On a Snowy Night in Indianapolis
Aug. 19th, 2011 02:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabbys_ficsOn a Snowy Night in Indianapolis
Bandom || Gabe Saporta/Tom Conrad (Cobra Starship/Empires) || Adults || ~2500 words
Originally posted May 12 2009 at this post.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the real people mentioned within or mean to imply anything about them. No harm intended. If you or someone you know is mentioned in this fic, hit the back button, thanks.
Summary: Tom gets snowed in at the airport in Indianapolis and runs into an old friend. (unfinished)
Tom thought leaving TAI was kinda like going through a divorce; on paper it was easy, physically it was hard (there was always something he was missing that he last saw on tour and was probably with one of the other guys, like he had found one of Sisky's t-shirts mixed in with his own clothes or the random drawing of the Butcher's tucked into his cd case), but the worst part was dividing up the intangible: music and memories and friends. So when he catches sight of Gabe Saporta across the crowded airport, he isn't sure how to react.
Gabe was more William's friend than Tom's when it came down to it, so does that mean he no longer considers Tom a friend at all? Tom starts to turn around and walk away, but suddenly Gabe is right there, grinning and throwing his arm over Tom's shoulder.
“Thomas Conrad, don't even act like you didn't see me! I have a three hour layover and you are buying me coffee!'
When they return from what Tom thought would be an awkward conversation over coffee but actually turned out to be not that different from any other time he'd ever hung out with Gabe they see the main sign flashing ‘canceled’ in red for nearly every flight.
“It was really putting it down out there when we landed,” Gabe remarks, one hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I guess it didn’t let up.”
“Just my fucking luck,” Tom grumbles, trying to remember where his ticket counter is and wondering if he even knows anyone in Indianapolis.
“I’d say you’re actually very much in luck,” Gabe says with a smirk, tugging on the strap of Tom’s bag. “C’mon, I saw a TGIFridays over by the gate where we landed. I’ll buy the drinks if you buy dinner.”
That’s an offer Tom’s pretty sure he can’t pass up, so he dutifully follows Gabe through the crowd.
He waits to dig out his cell phone until they’ve worked their way to the bar and are settled in with a basket of fries and a couple of scary-looking drinks. He would have been fine with a beer, but Gabe’s buying and he insisted on this special concoction that he instructed the bartender to make.
Tom dials Jon and isn’t all that surprised to get voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I’m kinda stuck in Indianapolis; snowstorm has us all grounded. I’ll try to get there tomorrow but don’t count on it. You guys go on ahead without me; once we’re back up I can try to get a plane out to Cancun to meet you.”
“Girlfriend?” Gabe mouths as Tom’s talking.
Tom shakes his head and mouths back, “Jon.”
“JWalk!” Gabe leans close to Tom so he can yell into the phone. “Don’t worry, Jonny Walker, I’ll take good care of your boy.”
Tom laughs and pushes Gabe away. “I obviously ran into Gabe Saporta. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, you may want to worry.”
Gabe smirks at Tom as he hangs up the phone. “Worried about being alone with me?”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” Tom tilts his glass towards Gabe in salute and takes a long drink of the hideously purple liquid. It’s pretty smooth, doesn’t taste bad at all, and that should be his first clue. Still, he doesn’t think anything about it, about the way he always seems to have a full glass waiting before he finishes the one he’s on, and he’s wondering exactly what is in the mix because he’s definitely not feeling drunk. Maybe a little bit tipsy, a little loose with his laughter, a little bit of extra heat to his cheeks, but nothing more than that. At least, he doesn’t think so until he stands up, and immediately has to grab onto the top of the bar to steady himself. “Whoa.”
His vision is filled with a grinning Gabe. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.” Gabe wraps his arm around Tom’s waist to hold him up and signals to the bartender for their tab.
Tom lets Gabe lead him out of the bar and through the lingering crowd in the airport. They find out that there really aren’t that many rooms left open because most people jumped on the ones that were offered and cleared out pretty quickly. Tom is willing to find a corner of the airport to crash in – hell, it wouldn’t be the first time, and Gabe’ll be entertaining company either way – but Gabe is sweet-talking the girl behind the counter, who comes up with a single room at a nearby hotel and asks if Gabe wants her to check the others for another room for his friend.
“No, hey, Tommy and I are old friends; we can totally share.” He grins at the girl and Tommy is not the least bit surprised to find her phone number scribbled on top of the paperwork she passes Gabe.
Outside, the world is covered in white, and Tom maybe holds on a little tighter than necessary to Gabe to keep from falling (or to pull Gabe over with him if he does fall, whatever) as they pile into the hotel shuttle with a dozen other people. There is definitely a lack of room, and Tom ends up mostly on Gabe’s lap. He’d be amused by the scandalous looks he’s getting from the mother of the young children sitting beside him, but he’s too focused on the safety issue as they go sliding down the road. The drive that should take five minutes takes nearly thirty, and it’s filled with tense silence in the van and Gabe’s hand rubbing lightly over his back. Gabe probably means for it to be soothing or some shit, but it’s totally having the opposite effect, and Tom tries not to wiggle around too much even as he shifts his bag around to cover his lap.
When they reach the hotel, Tom thinks that maybe he’s a little drunk. He can't feel his toes, and he doesn’t that's from just the cold, even though he can feel the slushy snow creeping into his shoes as he stands in front of the hotel, arms spread wide as he turns in a wobbly circle and tries to catch the falling snowflakes on his tongue.
Tom staggers a little bit, slides on the ice, but Gabe is right there. Tom grins at him as he grabs Gabe's arm to steady himself. "I may be a little drunk," he says, solemnly. "And more than a little cold."
Gabe laughs. "Yeah, I can tell, rosy cheeks. Why don't we go get you warmed up?"
There's something more than just laughter and friendship in Gabe's eyes, something Tom can't exactly place, but he's not going to say no.
Tom studies the photographs on the wall behind the reception desk as Gabe takes care of checking them in. He thinks vaguely that they could be giving someone the wrong impression with the way Gabe keeps one arm wrapped around Tom the whole time, but they're in Indianapolis in the middle of a fucking snowstorm, so it's not that big a deal.
Tom stays cuddled up to Gabe on the elevator ride up to their room, partly because he's feeling loose-limbed and cuddly anyway, partly because Gabe smells really good, and maybe a little bit because it seems to freak out that woman who had rode over from the airport with them.
Tom thinks about maybe kissing Gabe, just to see the reaction it'll get, but this isn't Jon and his boys, isn't his own band, isn't even William, so he's not sure what he's allowed to do, what Gabe will take as a joke and what will be serious. He's all for Gabe laughing it off, going along with it just for the show, but he kinda wants to find out what will happen if he is serious about it, and he thinks that may need to wait until they're behind closed doors.
He remembers William talking about Gabe, about the way he kisses like it's the only thing he wants to do, like he'd be happy doing it forever. He wonders if it's true, because William was sometimes full of fanciful elaborations.
Gabe is laughing at him as he opens the door to their hotel room and ushers Tom inside. Tom thinks maybe he said some of his rambling thoughts out loud, but he's not sure.
It doesn't matter anyway, because there is a bed in the middle of the room, a bed with clean, crisp sheets and room to stretch out and Tom didn't realize how much he was looking forward to getting to lay down until the opportunity presented itself.
Tom drops his bag and kicks off his shoes, leaning against the wall for support. "God, bed, Gabe, you have no idea how much I want to be horizontal right now." He strips off his jacket, his hoodie, his shirt (seriously, this cold weather shit is for the birds, he's supposed to be halfway to Cancun right now, where he can be comfortable in a pair of shorts instead of eighteen layers of clothes), and shucks his jeans, tripping a bit as they get tangled around his feet, but it's okay because he lands on the bed and is able to maneuver himself around to yank them off and drop them on the floor without much trouble.
He groans and lays back on the bed, stretching out in his socks and boxers, enjoying the feel of the warm air on his skin and the way Gabe is watching him. He's not sure why Gabe is just watching him, still standing by the door fully dressed. "Bed, Gabe, seriously. C'mon."
Gabe shakes his head and drops his own bag, toes off his shoes, and crawls up onto the bed, half-kneeling over Tom. Tom grins and grabs the open edges of Gabe's hoodie, pulling him off balance. Gabe has far too many layers of clothes on, but Tom's still thinking about Gabe and kissing and he thinks they're probably due for an experiment.
Gabe tastes like the drink Tom doesn’t know the name of, the one from the bar he’s calling Cobra Concoction in his head. He knows if he asks, Gabe’ll come up with something equally ridiculous. Whatever it was, it fits Gabe: slightly fruity and highly intoxicating, smooth and vibrant on his tongue. He didn’t expect the drink to leave him feeling so inebriated, just as he doesn’t expect Gabe’s kisses to leave him feeling so off-kilter.
When Gabe starts kissing Tom’s jaw, the side of his neck, Tom can’t hold back the pleased humming noises, the ones he was making against Gabe’s lips just moments before, and they sound loud to him so he bites his lip to try and keep them in as he wiggles on the bed beneath Gabe. Gabe’s barely touching him, holding his body away from Tom.
Tom’s on edge, anticipating something. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting on, just that he wants more from Gabe. Needs more. Tom thinks I am the drug you can’t deny and starts laughing. Gabe gives him a questioning look and Tom laughs harder, singing low and slightly off-key, “G-A-B-E gonna get me high?”
Gabe’s breath is hot and moist against Tom’s throat as he echoes the laughter. “Baby, I will totally get you high.” Gabe presses his tongue flat against Tom’s skin and licks a line up to the bottom of his jaw, bites lightly. Tom groans, arches up off the bed, tries to close the distance between their bodies, but Gabe pulls back further, smirking.
“Too many clothes,” Tom says, tugging at Gabe’s hoodie, pushing it off Gabe’s shoulders even as he tries to use it to draw Gabe closer.
“I don't know, Tommy, you seem like you may be too inebriated to be making good decisions.”
Tom thinks Gabe must not be inebriated enough if he can still use words like ‘inebriated,' but he knows his tongue'll get twisted around those words if he tries to call him on it. “Fuck you, naked is always a good idea.”
Gabe’s laughing as he rolls away from Tom, sitting up to take off his hoodie and one of the shirts under it. Fucking cold weather clothes, seriously. Tom doesn’t wait for Gabe to pull off the last shirt, just slides his hand underneath it as he pushes Gabe down to the bed, going back for more kisses. Gabe’s skin is hot and smooth under his hand, and Tom’s hand must still be a little cold – or Gabe must be ticklish – because Gabe jumps a little when Tom skims his fingers over his stomach. Tom wants to be able to see, to touch, to taste, but revealing more any more skin means he has to quit kissing Gabe.
Tom isn’t usually this indecisive, or this impatient, but then again, he doesn’t usually have Gabe Saporta in his hands. Under his hands. He compromises and pushes Gabe’s shirt up far enough to reveal the skin underneath, then scooting down to scrape his teeth against his stomach, laughing when Gabe flinches. Tom feels Gabe’s stomach muscles shift under his hands, his tongue, as Gabe lifts up and maneuvers his shirt off. Then Gabe’s hands are in his hair, tugging just a little, urging him up. Tom leans close, enjoying the press of hot hot skin against his own, and runs his hand down Gabe’s side, to the top of his jeans, dips his fingers just below the waistband. He slides his hands over, fumbles with the button, and yeah, he actually is usually this uncoordinated, especially after he’s been drinking, and right now he’s got the added distraction of Gabe, so he’s not surprised that it takes a couple tries. Gabe pushes Tom’s hands away and undoes it himself, pulling back so he can wiggle out of them. Tom’s totally okay with that, though, because naked, naked, naked. he doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until Gabe laughs and says, “I’m working on it, fuck.”
Gabe’s boxers have dinosaurs on them and Tom starts to laugh as Gabe slides them off but stops when Gabe turns his attention back to him, tugging at the waistband of Tom’s own boring-plaid boxers. “Your turn.”
Tom maybe whimpers a little as he lays back and lifts his hips off the bed a little, Gabe’s fingers brushing against his skin as he pulls Tom’s boxers off and crawls back up the bed. Tom feels Gabe’s dick, hard against his leg, and shifts on the bed beneath Gabe, trying to get them into a position where they’re both getting some friction as Gabe kisses him.
“That better?” Gabe asks as he pulls back.
“Naked,” Tom answers, meaning YES. He knows there’s bound to be a goofy grin on his face, but that’s okay, b/c Gabe’s sliding his hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Tom’s cock.
(I don’t think there’s gonna be actual sex though, b/c neither of them have lube. And there’s a ridiculous comment from Tom about how Gabe is a bad boyscout, not always prepared, and Gabe says the only boyscouting he ever did was at clubs after the shows. So there is gonna be like handjobs and maybe some love bites and some cuddles. And there can totally be sex the next day because they’re still snowed in.)
Bandom || Gabe Saporta/Tom Conrad (Cobra Starship/Empires) || Adults || ~2500 words
Originally posted May 12 2009 at this post.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the real people mentioned within or mean to imply anything about them. No harm intended. If you or someone you know is mentioned in this fic, hit the back button, thanks.
Summary: Tom gets snowed in at the airport in Indianapolis and runs into an old friend. (unfinished)
Tom thought leaving TAI was kinda like going through a divorce; on paper it was easy, physically it was hard (there was always something he was missing that he last saw on tour and was probably with one of the other guys, like he had found one of Sisky's t-shirts mixed in with his own clothes or the random drawing of the Butcher's tucked into his cd case), but the worst part was dividing up the intangible: music and memories and friends. So when he catches sight of Gabe Saporta across the crowded airport, he isn't sure how to react.
Gabe was more William's friend than Tom's when it came down to it, so does that mean he no longer considers Tom a friend at all? Tom starts to turn around and walk away, but suddenly Gabe is right there, grinning and throwing his arm over Tom's shoulder.
“Thomas Conrad, don't even act like you didn't see me! I have a three hour layover and you are buying me coffee!'
When they return from what Tom thought would be an awkward conversation over coffee but actually turned out to be not that different from any other time he'd ever hung out with Gabe they see the main sign flashing ‘canceled’ in red for nearly every flight.
“It was really putting it down out there when we landed,” Gabe remarks, one hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I guess it didn’t let up.”
“Just my fucking luck,” Tom grumbles, trying to remember where his ticket counter is and wondering if he even knows anyone in Indianapolis.
“I’d say you’re actually very much in luck,” Gabe says with a smirk, tugging on the strap of Tom’s bag. “C’mon, I saw a TGIFridays over by the gate where we landed. I’ll buy the drinks if you buy dinner.”
That’s an offer Tom’s pretty sure he can’t pass up, so he dutifully follows Gabe through the crowd.
He waits to dig out his cell phone until they’ve worked their way to the bar and are settled in with a basket of fries and a couple of scary-looking drinks. He would have been fine with a beer, but Gabe’s buying and he insisted on this special concoction that he instructed the bartender to make.
Tom dials Jon and isn’t all that surprised to get voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I’m kinda stuck in Indianapolis; snowstorm has us all grounded. I’ll try to get there tomorrow but don’t count on it. You guys go on ahead without me; once we’re back up I can try to get a plane out to Cancun to meet you.”
“Girlfriend?” Gabe mouths as Tom’s talking.
Tom shakes his head and mouths back, “Jon.”
“JWalk!” Gabe leans close to Tom so he can yell into the phone. “Don’t worry, Jonny Walker, I’ll take good care of your boy.”
Tom laughs and pushes Gabe away. “I obviously ran into Gabe Saporta. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, you may want to worry.”
Gabe smirks at Tom as he hangs up the phone. “Worried about being alone with me?”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” Tom tilts his glass towards Gabe in salute and takes a long drink of the hideously purple liquid. It’s pretty smooth, doesn’t taste bad at all, and that should be his first clue. Still, he doesn’t think anything about it, about the way he always seems to have a full glass waiting before he finishes the one he’s on, and he’s wondering exactly what is in the mix because he’s definitely not feeling drunk. Maybe a little bit tipsy, a little loose with his laughter, a little bit of extra heat to his cheeks, but nothing more than that. At least, he doesn’t think so until he stands up, and immediately has to grab onto the top of the bar to steady himself. “Whoa.”
His vision is filled with a grinning Gabe. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.” Gabe wraps his arm around Tom’s waist to hold him up and signals to the bartender for their tab.
Tom lets Gabe lead him out of the bar and through the lingering crowd in the airport. They find out that there really aren’t that many rooms left open because most people jumped on the ones that were offered and cleared out pretty quickly. Tom is willing to find a corner of the airport to crash in – hell, it wouldn’t be the first time, and Gabe’ll be entertaining company either way – but Gabe is sweet-talking the girl behind the counter, who comes up with a single room at a nearby hotel and asks if Gabe wants her to check the others for another room for his friend.
“No, hey, Tommy and I are old friends; we can totally share.” He grins at the girl and Tommy is not the least bit surprised to find her phone number scribbled on top of the paperwork she passes Gabe.
Outside, the world is covered in white, and Tom maybe holds on a little tighter than necessary to Gabe to keep from falling (or to pull Gabe over with him if he does fall, whatever) as they pile into the hotel shuttle with a dozen other people. There is definitely a lack of room, and Tom ends up mostly on Gabe’s lap. He’d be amused by the scandalous looks he’s getting from the mother of the young children sitting beside him, but he’s too focused on the safety issue as they go sliding down the road. The drive that should take five minutes takes nearly thirty, and it’s filled with tense silence in the van and Gabe’s hand rubbing lightly over his back. Gabe probably means for it to be soothing or some shit, but it’s totally having the opposite effect, and Tom tries not to wiggle around too much even as he shifts his bag around to cover his lap.
When they reach the hotel, Tom thinks that maybe he’s a little drunk. He can't feel his toes, and he doesn’t that's from just the cold, even though he can feel the slushy snow creeping into his shoes as he stands in front of the hotel, arms spread wide as he turns in a wobbly circle and tries to catch the falling snowflakes on his tongue.
Tom staggers a little bit, slides on the ice, but Gabe is right there. Tom grins at him as he grabs Gabe's arm to steady himself. "I may be a little drunk," he says, solemnly. "And more than a little cold."
Gabe laughs. "Yeah, I can tell, rosy cheeks. Why don't we go get you warmed up?"
There's something more than just laughter and friendship in Gabe's eyes, something Tom can't exactly place, but he's not going to say no.
Tom studies the photographs on the wall behind the reception desk as Gabe takes care of checking them in. He thinks vaguely that they could be giving someone the wrong impression with the way Gabe keeps one arm wrapped around Tom the whole time, but they're in Indianapolis in the middle of a fucking snowstorm, so it's not that big a deal.
Tom stays cuddled up to Gabe on the elevator ride up to their room, partly because he's feeling loose-limbed and cuddly anyway, partly because Gabe smells really good, and maybe a little bit because it seems to freak out that woman who had rode over from the airport with them.
Tom thinks about maybe kissing Gabe, just to see the reaction it'll get, but this isn't Jon and his boys, isn't his own band, isn't even William, so he's not sure what he's allowed to do, what Gabe will take as a joke and what will be serious. He's all for Gabe laughing it off, going along with it just for the show, but he kinda wants to find out what will happen if he is serious about it, and he thinks that may need to wait until they're behind closed doors.
He remembers William talking about Gabe, about the way he kisses like it's the only thing he wants to do, like he'd be happy doing it forever. He wonders if it's true, because William was sometimes full of fanciful elaborations.
Gabe is laughing at him as he opens the door to their hotel room and ushers Tom inside. Tom thinks maybe he said some of his rambling thoughts out loud, but he's not sure.
It doesn't matter anyway, because there is a bed in the middle of the room, a bed with clean, crisp sheets and room to stretch out and Tom didn't realize how much he was looking forward to getting to lay down until the opportunity presented itself.
Tom drops his bag and kicks off his shoes, leaning against the wall for support. "God, bed, Gabe, you have no idea how much I want to be horizontal right now." He strips off his jacket, his hoodie, his shirt (seriously, this cold weather shit is for the birds, he's supposed to be halfway to Cancun right now, where he can be comfortable in a pair of shorts instead of eighteen layers of clothes), and shucks his jeans, tripping a bit as they get tangled around his feet, but it's okay because he lands on the bed and is able to maneuver himself around to yank them off and drop them on the floor without much trouble.
He groans and lays back on the bed, stretching out in his socks and boxers, enjoying the feel of the warm air on his skin and the way Gabe is watching him. He's not sure why Gabe is just watching him, still standing by the door fully dressed. "Bed, Gabe, seriously. C'mon."
Gabe shakes his head and drops his own bag, toes off his shoes, and crawls up onto the bed, half-kneeling over Tom. Tom grins and grabs the open edges of Gabe's hoodie, pulling him off balance. Gabe has far too many layers of clothes on, but Tom's still thinking about Gabe and kissing and he thinks they're probably due for an experiment.
Gabe tastes like the drink Tom doesn’t know the name of, the one from the bar he’s calling Cobra Concoction in his head. He knows if he asks, Gabe’ll come up with something equally ridiculous. Whatever it was, it fits Gabe: slightly fruity and highly intoxicating, smooth and vibrant on his tongue. He didn’t expect the drink to leave him feeling so inebriated, just as he doesn’t expect Gabe’s kisses to leave him feeling so off-kilter.
When Gabe starts kissing Tom’s jaw, the side of his neck, Tom can’t hold back the pleased humming noises, the ones he was making against Gabe’s lips just moments before, and they sound loud to him so he bites his lip to try and keep them in as he wiggles on the bed beneath Gabe. Gabe’s barely touching him, holding his body away from Tom.
Tom’s on edge, anticipating something. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting on, just that he wants more from Gabe. Needs more. Tom thinks I am the drug you can’t deny and starts laughing. Gabe gives him a questioning look and Tom laughs harder, singing low and slightly off-key, “G-A-B-E gonna get me high?”
Gabe’s breath is hot and moist against Tom’s throat as he echoes the laughter. “Baby, I will totally get you high.” Gabe presses his tongue flat against Tom’s skin and licks a line up to the bottom of his jaw, bites lightly. Tom groans, arches up off the bed, tries to close the distance between their bodies, but Gabe pulls back further, smirking.
“Too many clothes,” Tom says, tugging at Gabe’s hoodie, pushing it off Gabe’s shoulders even as he tries to use it to draw Gabe closer.
“I don't know, Tommy, you seem like you may be too inebriated to be making good decisions.”
Tom thinks Gabe must not be inebriated enough if he can still use words like ‘inebriated,' but he knows his tongue'll get twisted around those words if he tries to call him on it. “Fuck you, naked is always a good idea.”
Gabe’s laughing as he rolls away from Tom, sitting up to take off his hoodie and one of the shirts under it. Fucking cold weather clothes, seriously. Tom doesn’t wait for Gabe to pull off the last shirt, just slides his hand underneath it as he pushes Gabe down to the bed, going back for more kisses. Gabe’s skin is hot and smooth under his hand, and Tom’s hand must still be a little cold – or Gabe must be ticklish – because Gabe jumps a little when Tom skims his fingers over his stomach. Tom wants to be able to see, to touch, to taste, but revealing more any more skin means he has to quit kissing Gabe.
Tom isn’t usually this indecisive, or this impatient, but then again, he doesn’t usually have Gabe Saporta in his hands. Under his hands. He compromises and pushes Gabe’s shirt up far enough to reveal the skin underneath, then scooting down to scrape his teeth against his stomach, laughing when Gabe flinches. Tom feels Gabe’s stomach muscles shift under his hands, his tongue, as Gabe lifts up and maneuvers his shirt off. Then Gabe’s hands are in his hair, tugging just a little, urging him up. Tom leans close, enjoying the press of hot hot skin against his own, and runs his hand down Gabe’s side, to the top of his jeans, dips his fingers just below the waistband. He slides his hands over, fumbles with the button, and yeah, he actually is usually this uncoordinated, especially after he’s been drinking, and right now he’s got the added distraction of Gabe, so he’s not surprised that it takes a couple tries. Gabe pushes Tom’s hands away and undoes it himself, pulling back so he can wiggle out of them. Tom’s totally okay with that, though, because naked, naked, naked. he doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until Gabe laughs and says, “I’m working on it, fuck.”
Gabe’s boxers have dinosaurs on them and Tom starts to laugh as Gabe slides them off but stops when Gabe turns his attention back to him, tugging at the waistband of Tom’s own boring-plaid boxers. “Your turn.”
Tom maybe whimpers a little as he lays back and lifts his hips off the bed a little, Gabe’s fingers brushing against his skin as he pulls Tom’s boxers off and crawls back up the bed. Tom feels Gabe’s dick, hard against his leg, and shifts on the bed beneath Gabe, trying to get them into a position where they’re both getting some friction as Gabe kisses him.
“That better?” Gabe asks as he pulls back.
“Naked,” Tom answers, meaning YES. He knows there’s bound to be a goofy grin on his face, but that’s okay, b/c Gabe’s sliding his hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Tom’s cock.
(I don’t think there’s gonna be actual sex though, b/c neither of them have lube. And there’s a ridiculous comment from Tom about how Gabe is a bad boyscout, not always prepared, and Gabe says the only boyscouting he ever did was at clubs after the shows. So there is gonna be like handjobs and maybe some love bites and some cuddles. And there can totally be sex the next day because they’re still snowed in.)
