“We’re just helping each other out on a long shift. It’s not gay,” Sal says into the air of the empty station bathroom as he wraps a hand around Tommy’s dick, and then in the same breath, “No one can ever know.”
Tommy nods, too far gone in the fantasy-come-to-life of what’s happening to dwell on the irony there. He’ll pick that apart later. For now, he has what he’s craved for so long within his grasp, he just has to reach out and take it.
He gets his hand on Sal’s dick in return and revels in the way it twitches under his touch. Tommy wants to moan with how good it feels to touch another man like this, to be touched by one. But he has to pretend this is friend stuff—normal straight guy shit, not the stuff of waking wet dreams—or else it will be taken away from him.
{finish on ao3 or continue below}
Tommy tries to match Sal’s pace: hard, fast, efficient. He thumbs through the liquid gathering at the head, twists his hand on the upstroke, but doesn’t let himself linger—even as his body is screaming for him to slow down and savor it. This might be his first and last chance to have this.
The way Sal is looking right at him is unexpected. He’d thought Sal would look away, pick a tile on the wall and stare at it, pretend this isn’t happening, but no: Sal is in it, studying Tommy’s face in that passive slack-jawed way of his. Tommy keeps his expression carefully neutral but he’s worried even that will give him away.
Sal’s mouth drops open on a silent moan when Tommy’s thumb drags along the vein on the underside just right, so Tommy does it again harder. He wants Sal to like this. He wants Sal to want to do this again.
Tommy is losing focus quickly. Sal isn’t working as hard to impress him, isn’t pulling out different moves to see what he likes, but his hand is big and warm and calloused and masculine around Tommy’s dick and it really doesn’t need to do anything else to have him panting and leaking.
He’s thought about this so many times and the reality of it is even better than he could have imagined. Every bit of energy he’s not using to give Sal the handjob of his life he’s putting into not whining and humping Sal’s hand like a dog.
He takes half a step forward before he can stop himself; needing to be closer. Sal huffs but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step back.
They’re so close to each other now that Tommy could wrap his hand around both of their dicks and jerk them off like that. He knows it would feel good, wants it more than anything in this moment, but it would be a definitive step over the ‘not gay’ line into territory he’s not sure Sal will follow him willingly. It’s this or nothing, so Tommy chooses this.
“You close?” Tommy asks. He is. He can already feel it rising in his stomach, his balls, licking along his spine. He wants Sal to come first, to hide whatever his own orgasm is going to look like in the mists of Sal’s pleasure.
Sal nods. His face is inches away from Tommy’s and he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
When it happens, Tommy feels it. He doesn’t know why he didn’t expect to—he always feels the pulsing of his own dick as he comes—but to feel another man’s dick twitch and spasm as it shoots warm into his hand has Tommy biting back a moan so quickly he chokes on it.
Sal comes with a low groan and Tommy is helpless to follow. For as long as he’s wanted this—wanted Sal—he thinks he could’ve come from that sound alone, but the way Sal’s big hand tightens on the next few strokes is the last thing he needs to send him hurtling over the edge.
Tommy’s forehead drops to Sal’s shoulder without permission and he keens high in his throat as the pleasure rips through him. It’s easily the best orgasm he’s had in years and he’s instantly terrified of what that means.
He shoves it down. Later. He’ll think about that later.
Tommy pants, coming back to himself, and he gives himself two more seconds of physical contact with Sal before he pulls back completely.
They both lean against the hard tile wall of the bathroom and catch their breaths.
“Good?” Tommy asks, giving a joking half-smile. He knows the answer but it seems like a safe enough way to start talking again.
“Jesus, kid,” Sal laughs. “Yeah. It was good. Where the fuck’d you learn how to do that?”
He grabs some paper towels to wipe his hand off, then gives them to Tommy to do the same.
“Lonely childhood,” Tommy says. It’s true but it’s not the answer. “Dad had a lot of porn mags he’d leave around. I spent a lot of time jerking off. Figured yours doesn’t work too differently from mine.”
That look is back in Sal’s eyes like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet again. He just shakes his head and laughs.
Sal walks towards the door but stops before he opens it. “Give it a few,” he says. He doesn’t look back at Tommy but he has a small smile on his lips still. Tommy takes that as a win.
Sal leaves and Tommy is left alone with the enormity of what just happened. It was good. It was hot. Sal clearly doesn’t hate him, isn’t disgusted by him. He seemed almost… intrigued.
Tommy will sort out the shame and elation he feels swirling inside of himself like oil and water later.
For now, he washes his hands, splashes some water on his face, and gets back to work.
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When Steve and Eddie start dating Wayne pulls Steve aside and is like “I know this sounds odd but you’re gonna have to take him on walks every once in a while.”
And Steve is just like “?? Sir? He is not a dog?”
Wayne gives him a slightly haunted look, muttering “sometimes I wonder,” under his breath before clearing his throat and telling Steve to just trust him on this one.
Steve thinks this is probably something Wayne had to do when Eddie was a child to get him out of the house but the man is a full-grown adult now, Steve is not gonna walk him.
He kind of forgets about it until one day. Eddie’s been staying at Steve’s for the week and he gets home from work only to find the kitchen absolutely wrecked. He finds Eddie in another room standing in a pile of books. He very slowly approaches him, putting his hands out and making his voice soft and as carefully as he can being like, “Hey, babe, what’s up?”
Eddie whips around, eyes big and wild, rambling almost too fast for Steve to understand. “I needed to make a cake but I didn’t have a recipe so I improvised and that did not work so I went to find a recipe and did you know there are like fifty-year-old medical books here? There are so many descriptions of gross stuff in them.” He waves one of Steve’s granddads old books around and Steve has to lean back to not get smacked by it.
“Yeah… my granddad was a doctor,” he says all while eyeing him warily.
His hair is frizzier than usual and he’s about to turn around to grab more books and Steve does not know what this is or what to do? Should he do something? That’s when he remembers what Wayne said about walks and the way he had looked, a bit stressed and disbelieving. It’s about how Steve is feeling right now so he might as well try, right?
So he grabs Eddie, pulling him along towards the door, making up the first excuse he can think of. “Speaking of my granddad, he built a tree-house for me in the woods behind the house, let’s go look.”
He walks into the woods at the wrong opening, leading them kind of far in before turning around to wander and pretending to look. He finally steers them back to where the tree-house actually is, all in its tiny rotten glory, and right at the edge of the lawn.
“Guess it was closer than I remember,” he says with a shrug as if dragging Eddie around for twenty minutes insisting it was further in is in any way a believable mistake.
Eddie gives him a look like he’s acting insane, which, okay fair but Eddie did start it. And anyways he looks better now, judgmental as all hell but better.
“Cool,” He eventually says then stomps back inside.
Eddie spends the rest of the day making fun of Steve for getting lost in the woods where he grew up but he’s not climbing the walls anymore so Steve counts it as a win.
After that he brings Eddie on regular walks, tells him it’s because he doesn’t do sports anymore and needs to move, doesn’t always feel like running and it’s boring going alone. Eddie accepts it easily but also says it’s so weird because Wayne will also drag him along on walks, and, like, what about him attracts these people who need to go on walks all the time and can’t do it alone?
Steve and Wayne have a pact to never tell Eddie, they do not even want to imagine how that would go because Eddie is a drama queen at heart and their system is working (until years later when Steve and Eddie live together hours away and Steve goes on a trip with Robin, he comes back to Eddie on his way to turn their living room into a greenhouse)
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Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.
Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.
Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.
It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...
This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.
I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.
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baby guild :)
aka the timber scouts! they're basically just a bunch of kids in a sort of guild prep-course. so, not a real full official guild, but functions like one. all the kids have different woodland animal gimmicks to go with the scout vibe. They have a very loose shared uniform too, they're pretty much allowed to customize however they want as long as they keep the white button-up, brown outerwear, dark brown bottoms, and brown boots. also like a lot of kids in other guilds, their weapons are toys or otherwise "safter" items. But that's pretty much all! They aren't super deep characters, but more general info still under the cut :p
Name: Ceres
Name Origin: Dwarf planet named after the goddess of agriculture and motherly relationships
Pronouns: They/them
Age: 29
Guild rank: Guildmaster
Weapon: Pocket knife
Ethos (Power): Aegis (The ability to cast a protective shield around others but not themself)
Flaw power is based on: Their tendency to put others first, in a way that makes them a pushover.
Notes: Suffering.
Name: Aquila
Name Origin: The eagle constellation
Pronouns: They/them
Age: 12
Guild rank: 1 star
Weapon: Hula hoop
Ethos (Power): Aerial burst (A powerful burst of air created with their wings)
Flaw power is based on: They're flighty and feather-brained
Notes: Birds just wanna have fun
Name: Procyon
Name Origin: A star in canis minor, the name technically means "before the dog" but refers to the raccoon family
Pronouns: He/him
Age: 11
Guild rank: 1 star
Weapon: hacky sack
Ethos (Power): Scaling (He can climb any surface)
Flaw power is based on: His rowdy uncontrollable nature
Notes: Yeah he can kick the hacky sack while on a wall, no big deal.
Name: Kochab
Name Origin: Beta Ursae Minoris- brightest star in the little dipper
Pronouns: She/her
Age: 11
Guild rank: 1 star
Weapon: Honey dipper
Ethos (Power): Honeymelt (She can turn solid structures into a more gooey form with the consistency of honey)
Flaw power is based on: Her sluggish listlessness
Notes: Wait until you meet mama bear
Name: Vulpecula (Val)
Name Origin: The "little fox" constellation
Pronouns: She/her
Age: 11
Guild rank: 1 star
Weapon: Jump rope
Ethos (Power): Tactful sense (Heightened senses for what's going on around her)
Flaw power is based on: Her desire to control everything around her
Notes: She's the first on track to getting a second star (according to herself)
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