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The After After Party

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Cisco stood on his tiptoes to see through the peep hole, then dropped flat to his feet and sighed. When he opened the door, Harry was leaning against the door jamb with both hands behind his back and his eyebrows stretched to his hairline.

“What’s the disaster?” Cisco said immediately, thinking: giant lizard, space robots, republicans.

Harry shrugged lazily. “Good morning to you, too, Buttercup.”

“I don’t think this qualifies as morning,” Cisco muttered, but he stepped to the side and Harry swept past him, trailing hints of beer flavored sweat. Harry’s usually tightly spun vibes were frayed and grasping, but Cisco was too tired to either decipher or dodge them. “I was sleeping. Why are you here?”

Harry spun, bringing his hands out with a little more razzle dazzle than a half-empty bottle of brandy deserved at four in the morning. Cisco blinked drowsily. Harry waggled his eyebrows.

“Who let you watch Wheel of Fortune?” Cisco wondered out loud. “Also. What?”

Harry lowered the bottle and frowned, looking put out by Cisco’s reaction.

“None of us are on duty for the next twenty-four hours,” he said. He scratched the side of his neck, leaving red welts behind. “I thought. Well, your plans for the party were ruined tonight. The least you should get is a quality drink for your trouble.”

Cisco squinted at the bottle.

Quality. Sure, ok. Like Cisco hadn’t seen Harry sucking great gulps of that down on rough days, which was basically every day except Wednesdays. The ratio of backwash to liquor in that bottle was probably eighty to twenty by now.

“It’s late. Or early.” Cisco wiped a tired hand over his eyes. “I don’t think…”

Harry ignored him and pivoted toward the kitchen. Cisco trailed off.

“I’m not even shocked right now,” he said to himself when the light in his kitchen turned on.

In the kitchen, Cisco watched Harry pull a snifter down from the right cabinet on the first try. When he reached up, his black jean jacket lifted and took the threadbare shirt underneath with it, showing the slim pale curve of skin above his belt. Cisco wasn’t so tired that he didn’t feel a little zing at that. As if reading his mind, Harry glanced over his shoulder at Cisco with a grin that was basically the definition of saucy and rolled the glass back and forth in his hands, warming it up.

Cisco let a small smile slip and crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned on the edge of the table to embrace his role as the audience. Harry raised an eyebrow and plucked the top from the brandy, pouring a finger from a dangerous height. He spun the lip as he did, swirling the liquid in an elaborate dance. He set the bottle aside without breaking eye contact and offered the glass balanced on the palm of his hand.

“I feel like I should be wearing something more fancy than boxers for this,” Cisco said, chuckling as he accepted the glass. He bowed his head a little, because that felt appropriate. “Or maybe fancier boxers?”

 

Harry’s fingertips brushed his, lingered, and his eyes swept down and then to the side. He cleared his throat and his energy reached out, pulsing with sick heat.

Cisco eyed the amber liquid and then looked back at Harry, who remained close.

“What’s going on? For real?”

Harry lifted his eyes. A splatter of glitter from the club glinted at his temple.

“Cisco,” Harry said. From this close, Cisco could see silver tips of his eyelashes. “Drink.”

Cisco frowned. He squinted at Harry, but Harry stared flatly back at him. Cisco realized Harry wasn’t wearing his glasses and nearly stepped backwards because something about that was deliberately provoking. Only he didn’t back down from Harry. Not anymore. He stood taller instead.

“Sure. Ok. Yeah, let’s do whatever this is.” Cisco tossed the brandy back recklessly. It lit fires on the way down and Cisco sputtered, coughing. “Shit,” he gasped, eyes watering. “Can I go back to bed now?”

Mid-cough, he felt Harry take the snifter from his hand and heard the click of it being placed on the counter. Harry took a noisy breath. Cisco wiped his mouth. Harry yanked him forward by the back of his neck and kissed him. Cisco collided with him bodily and kept falling, deep into a world of white noise and hunger that he’d been muffling for months now. Desperate ache. Forget everything else. No one else mattered. The scratch of Harry’s poorly shaved beard yanked him back into his body, and Harry’s mouth was waiting there, wet and warm, with hints of smoke on his tongue. Cisco returned the kiss helplessly, deeply, and that itself shocked him sober fast enough to give him a headache.

He jerked his jaw aside and fell back to earth, gasping for air against Harry’s soft sweater.

Cisco noticed his fingers knotted in the front flaps of Harry’s jacket and he slowly untangled them, clumsy and disturbed. Harry’s elegant fingertips ghosted the nape of Cisco’s neck, stuttered over his shoulder. There, he grasped, that old familiar comfort. It would have been platonic, except Harry lingered close, looking down the bridge of his nose at Cisco with a sternness that Cisco abruptly realized was tautly restrained lust. He’d seen this sternness before. How many times?

Harry’s cheek twitched as Cisco stared up at him. His gaze flicked between Cisco’s eyes and mouth. Cisco licked his lips. Harry leaned down once more, slowly, telegraphing his intention.

“Wait, I.” Cisco shook his head. Dazed. “This is---”

Harry sighed through his nose. “Don’t be dim, Ramon,” he snapped impatiently. “You’re faster than this.”

“Just.” Cisco sidestepped him and dragged his hair back from his face. His skin felt itchy and tight. An epi-pen would have come in handy. “I need a minute. And some pants.”

“I’ll give you a minute,” Harry grated and rolled his eyes. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t waste time finding pants.”

Cisco boggled. “I think I need to sit down.”

Harry followed Cisco to the living room where Cisco collapsed on the couch and seriously considered putting his head between his knees. Harry planted himself on the coffee table, legs open wide and bracketing Cisco’s knees. He looked calm. Actually, he looked mildly annoyed. Or constipated.

“You want me,” Cisco said. Harry looked at him like he was stupid which was nice and familiar. “For how long? What the fuck, Harry.”

“You want me, too,” Harry said and Cisco scoffed, because that was ridiculous. Cisco was healthy. Mature. He would know that about himself. If he’d been pining for Harry, he would be: sweating, trembling, dick half-hard as Harry’s knees nudged his own.

Cisco looked down at their legs. He was gripping his own thigh, nails bleached white.

“Holy shit,” Cisco said, letting his leg go. Harry smirked hard enough that it lifted his ears.

“How many more minutes?”

Cisco shook his head, baffled. “I’m sort of---in a--- there’s this---”

“Off and on again long distance relationship? It’s off this week, though, right?” Harry bent forward and pinched Cisco’s chin. The lack of light had dilated his eyes, making them all black with just a sliver of blue at the edges. “You were in my lap half the night, Ramon. Forgive me if I find it hard to believe you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”

Cisco felt his eyelids flutter and hissed, jerking away. “Excuse me, I was not---”

Or was he.

“Save it,” Harry said. He abruptly stood and straddled Cisco’s knees, towering over him, one hand planted on the cushion by Cisco’s shoulders. Cisco leaned away and stared up the length of Harry’s body. The front of his sweater gaped, showing the unforgiving cut of his clavicle and Cisco kind of wanted to---well, bite him. Almost without thought, he found himself holding onto Harry’s thighs, which were firm and hot underneath the black jeans. Something clenched was unwinding within his gut, spiraling through the rest of his body. It felt wet.

“It’s ok,” Harry rasped. He stroked through the tangle of hair at Cisco’s temple and pushed it behind his ear. Cisco shuddered. He closed his eyes and fell into the touch. The base of Harry’s palm caught him, holding the weight of his head. His wrist smelled like blood. Cisco wanted to chew on the strap of his wrist watch.

“It turned me on,” Cisco admitted, and admitting it turned him on again.

He’d climbed over Harry’s lap to get out of the booth and if it had been Barry, he would have nudged him aside, had him climb out first, but because it was Harry and they were all up in each other’s space, Cisco had simply moved his body over Harry’s, felt Harry plastered against his back, strong thighs under his own, and---hands on his hips, breath hot on the side of his throat---and Cisco had. Hesitated.

“Fuck,” Cisco hissed and turned his face in Harry’s palm, breathing hot against the skin. Harry pressed his thumb against Cisco’s lips and teeth and Cisco bit him. Hard. A little grunt punched out of Harry in answer.

“That’s good,” Harry whispered. “You’re catching up.”

Cisco latched onto Harry’s wrist and yanked. The couch broke Harry’s fall and Cisco climbed into his lap, straddled his hips and crushed their fronts together. He grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair, dragged his head backward and kissed him with more teeth than tongue, trapping him against the back of the couch by his mouth. Harry opened instantly like a puzzle coming apart. His hands crossed over Cisco’s back, jaw gaping wide to accept Cisco’s tongue. Even his hips lifted to answer Cisco’s.

“I wanted your dick in me,” Cisco said, yanking Harry’s hair. “Fuck, that sounds awesome.”

Harry squeezed him tighter, dragging Cisco in. “You’re gonna get it. Any time you want it.” Harry huffed when Cisco humped him hard enough to knock the air out of him. “Do you want it now? I have---everything we need. No foreplay, I’ve been hard all night, let’s just---”

Cisco unbuttoned Harry’s jeans and stuck his hand straight inside his boxers. Harry nearly bucked him off, hissing and throwing his head back. Cisco scraped Harry’s neck with his teeth then backed off enough to pull Harry’s cock through the slit of fabric. Harry was hot and slightly damp. Uncircumcised. Cisco stroked his foreskin back and dragged his thumb over the spongy glans. Harry was already leaking, slicking Cisco’s palm.

Harry groaned, practically writhing, and this was what Cisco wanted: Harry wordless at last, in the palm of Cisco’s hand as literally as he could make that happen. Cisco watched Harry’s face as he jacked him slow and tight. Harry peered at him from behind narrowed eyelids, eclipsed black pupils staring at him under his lashes. It was making Cisco go crazy, having all that cutting intelligence concentrated and pointed at him. His own dick pulsed enviously against Harry’s thigh.

“You look smug,” Harry managed to mutter through a strained grimace.

Cisco licked his lips. “You look hot,” Cisco answered.

It was true. Cisco pushed Harry’s shirt up so he could watch the muscles bunch and release as Harry fucked his fist. It was better than porn.

“That’s good,” Harry gritted. “You can go tighter.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Cisco said and let go entirely. Harry bucked and legitimately whined as Cisco crawled off his lap. He looked ready to be angry. And then Cisco stripped out of his shirt and Harry stilled, his body as quiet as the whites of his eyes. Cool air brushed Cisco’s nipples, making them contract. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

“I do,” Harry said quietly. His fingers flexed on his knees. “Cisco, I.”

“What, Harry.”

Harry’s throat worked. “You should know. I really want this.”

“Then why are your clothes still on?”

Harry blinked at him and then started yanking. His boots landed somewhere behind the couch. His jacket nearly hit Cisco in the face. He stood when he was down to his unbuttoned jeans and the heavy belt buckle weighed them down, making them sag around his hips. Cisco chuckled and Harry caught him around the waist, reeling him into another deep, wet kiss that curled Cisco’s toes.

Cisco gave a push toward the bedroom and Harry went blindly, guided by his mouth. Easy. When the back of his knees hit the bed, he gasped and fell backwards, catching himself on his elbows on the mattress. The lava lamp dribbled blobs of red and blue light over Harry’s chest. Cisco smirked at him and thumbed out of his boxer shorts. Harry sat up more, knees coming up, feet flat on the bed as Cisco crawled onto the bed naked.

“Look at you,” Harry said. “Do you know what you look like?”

“I’m too busy looking at you.”

Cisco crawled between Harry’s lean legs and tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers. Harry lifted his ass and Cisco tugged them off, fingertips dragging along the back of his thighs, scraping through the thick hair on his calves. He balled the fabric into a messy ball and dropped it over the side of the bed, eyeballing the expanse of Harry draped naked on his bed. He was thin, muscles present in a useful, functional way, nipples and dick the same dusky pink color as his mouth. His hair was a mess, flat in some spots, sticking up in others. Cisco pushed a hand up the inside of his thigh and Harry let his legs drop open, dick visibly flexing.

“You’re so easy.” Cisco scraped his nails through Harry’s pubic hair and Harry fisted the blanket by his hips. “Are you going to moan for me, Harry?”

Harry pulled him down by the back of the neck, leaning up to meet him halfway. Cisco crawled up Harry’s body so that he could straddle him and press his dick against the curve of Harry’s groin. Sweet, sweet friction.

 “You were hard when I climbed over you.” Cisco laughed, and Harry nipped at his mouth, his neck. “You already were, before I even touched you.”

Harry grunted. “You kept hitting me with your hair. Your---” He licked up Cisco’s throat. “You kept touching my leg.”

Cisco broke away and stared down at Harry, hair shielding Harry from a blue blob of light as it rolled over them. Harry smiled faintly and tucked the hair away again.

“You need to fuck me right now,” Cisco decided.

Harry shrugged. “As you wish.”

Cisco lubed himself up and had to keep pushing Harry’s helpful hands away.

“I know what I’m doing,” Cisco gasped.

“Yes, yeah, but.”

“This is gonna be a tight fucking fit,” Cisco muttered and Harry groaned, jerking himself off slowly while Cisco tried to stretch himself open. When he was as ready as he was ever going to be, Cisco crouched over Harry’s lap and held Harry’s cock upright with one hand while he sunk down over it, struggling to take it all without complaint. Harry’s jugular veins bulged, pulse throbbing at his temple, but his hands stayed feather-light on Cisco’s hips.

“You should probably breathe,” Cisco said, trying to take his own advice.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and held it again. Cisco chuckled and that made it easier to sink down, so he did, suddenly and all at once. He shut his eyes against the stab that was more pain the pleasure, pain that was both deep and superficial. Harry’s hands fluttered uncertainly over his thighs.

“It’s been a couple years,” Cisco gritted.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Harry said, and Cisco opened his eyes, watching Harry hold himself achingly still beneath him.

“Jealous?” Cisco wondered.

Harry grimaced and squeezed Cisco’s hips.

The pain eased when he didn’t move so that his ass just felt---uncomfortable. Too full and a little raw. And then. Harry whimpered, and. Cisco shifted. Harry trembled under him, head thrown back, eyes squeezed tight and Cisco felt Harry’s legs fighting a ghost in the sheet behind them. Cisco pulled up and came back down and Harry took it like a punch, head slamming against the pillow.

It looked like it hurt. Why was that so satisfying?

Cisco’s dick, which had gotten a little soft, perked right back up, like a dog sensing a bell. Cisco bunched his fists in the sheets under his thighs to anchor himself and shifted, and oh yeah, there it was, that was what he remembered. Sweat dripped down the curve of his back, into the crack of his ass, and Cisco shifted, catching the rhythm that felt like it had been waiting for him. Harry arched tautly, arms coming around the small of his back and Cisco shoved him back down. Harry grunted when he hit the sheet. Cisco groaned wildly, completely fucking ecstatic about the current events.

“You’re being slow again,” Harry said.

“Some things should be savored,” Cisco reminded him. “Are you complaining?”

“I want to fuck you,” Harry grated. He clutched Cisco’s hips, embedded his nails. “I really just want to---fuck right through you. I’m gonna fucking----lose my mind here, Ramon. I need it---Give it to me, give me everything before I---” Harry gasped and Cisco bucked on him, taking him deep and dragging off.

“Before you what? Hmm? Tell me.”

“Before I take it,” Harry snarled, face twisted and sharp.

Cisco stopped moving and leaned over him, smiling. Harry puffed up at him, trying to thrust, but Cisco blocked him with the strength in his thighs.

“That’s what I want you to do,” Cisco breathed over Harry’s mouth.

Harry blinked at him. A second later, Cisco landed on his stomach. Harry held him down with one forearm braced over his shoulder and opened his ass with the other, shoving in with two uncareful thrusts. Cisco cried out into the pillow and Harry leaned his weight on Cisco, shoving Cisco up the bed with his dick hard enough that Cisco tried to crawl away from it.

“Don’t fucking move,” Harry grated.

He fucked Cisco hard then, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, and when Cisco looked back, catching a glimpse of Harry through the sweaty tangle of his own hair, Harry’s face and chest were bright red, his teeth gleaming white where his lips were pulled back. His arms bulged demandingly as his body worked hungrily against Cisco’s.

“This is what you need,” Harry muttered, seemingly to himself as he watched his dick sink into Cisco’s body again and again. “You need me to fuck you. Don’t you. Don’t you.”

Cisco’s eyes rolled back in his head. He reached under himself for his dick, which was tight and underappreciated at the moment, caught between his belly and the mattress. Harry dragged his hips up and pulled him back onto his dick, almost too deep.

“Don’t come,” he warned, but didn’t seem interested in taking his own direction. His locked his arm around Cisco’s hips and humped him a few more times before grunting and shuddering, circling his hips as he emptied himself into the condom. Cisco opened his mouth against the pillow, chewing on it as he fisted himself harder, needing to come while Harry’s dick was still in his body, but Harry twisted out, suddenly, leaving Cisco struggling. Asshole. Harry flopped Cisco over onto his side, shoved his leg up and wide, slapped his hand out of the way, and then leaned down, taking Cisco deep in his mouth. Cisco yelped, flinching.

He grabbed Harry’s shoulders and held on for dear life as Harry sucked him deep and slow, tongue dragging up the vein under his cock, a look of genuine appreciation in his eyes as he threw a glance up Cisco’s stomach.

“You----Harry, you.”

Harry pulled off with a noisy pop.

“I want your come in my mouth,” he hissed. He smiled meanly when Cisco’s eyes rolled back in his head. “You want to hear more? I want everything you have, Ramon. Not one fucking bit less.” Harry sucked him down again and then pulled off. “I’m going to fuck you again after we get some sleep. You’re going to wake up with my dick in you. I’m gonna fuck you three times for every single time I had to come in my hand thinking about doing it. I’m going to blow you once for every time you’ve shoved your dick in my face under the guise of needing something off my desk. How many times will I have to suck your cock, Ramon? Do you even know how many times that is?”

Cisco shook his head weakly, scrabbling for purchase on Harry’s slick back. He kicked his legs like he was swimming and couldn’t say a single fucking thing. Harry took him deep again, circling Cisco’s dick with his fist and pulling up so his fingers hit mouth.

Cisco threw an arm over his eyes and came down Harry’s throat.

Harry, for his part, took everything----just like he’d threatened.

After, Cisco stared up at the ceiling. Blobs of light floated on the surface, bumping into each other and merging. Harry shuffled around in the bathroom. There was a distant fluorescent buzz and splashing water in the sink. The toilet flushed and the water kept running until Harry jiggled the handle. Cisco breathed deeply, in and out, entire body vibrating in the aftermath.

Harry returned to bed with a warm, damp towel and washed Cisco down, face first, then his stomach and dick. Cisco huffed and fought him off when he reached beneath Cisco to get at his ass. Harry raised his hands in surrender and dropped the towel.

“Boundaries, man,” Cisco muttered. “I’m a little sore.”

Harry smirked. He leaned down to give Cisco a long kiss like that proved something. Cisco sighed into it and Harry rolled him a little to the side, tugging the blanket and sheet out from underneath him.

“Cold, cold, cold,” Cisco said.

“Hush,” Harry said.

The bed dipped when Harry climbed in. He tugged the blankets up and over their bodies, bundling them securely as he shoved himself against Cisco’s back, not bothering to ask if he could stay. Cisco shifted to make room. Harry’s skin was a little chilly from the open air, hair bristling and scratching, and then----softening, warming, skin adjusting to the scrape of unfamiliar skin. Accommodation. Cisco settled down over Harry’s bicep.

This would be easy to get used to.

It should worry him. This wasn’t uncomplicated. Cisco needed to have a conversation with himself. Do a little soul searching. It was one thing to fuck Harry, who was deviously attractive, and cunning, and mean in a way Cisco found super hot. It was another to---

“Give it a few weeks,” Harry whispered. “I’ve figured it out. We just proved the hypothesis. It’s only a matter of time now.”

Cisco watched Harry’s fingers curl over his own on the pillow in front of his face and saw his own thumb reach out and stroke over the scar on Harry’s knuckle.

“A few weeks,” Cisco said, pseudo-thoughtfully. “A few days, maybe. You’re underestimating me again, Harry.”

Harry smiled. Cisco felt the curl of it in his hair and his body echoed that in the aftermath, arched back into Harry, pulling Harry around him like a blanket, up and over and in. Harry played with his hair for a while and mumbled something kinky about it and then fell asleep. He snored. Cisco rolled his eyes because of course Harry snored. Cisco bit his lip to keep from grinning, but in the end couldn’t stop himself from giggling secretly to himself in the dark.