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“So… you and Bailey.”
Neil sighs, leaning against the window of his apartment with his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder while he tries valiantly to peel a very stubborn orange.
“Me and Bailey.”
“How’s that going? Big plans for Saturday night?”
Neil frowns. How does Matt know about Saturday night?
“I mean… I guess. Why do you ask?”
“Because! Ya know… first Valentine’s. Kind of a big deal.”
Neil’s eyes widen and he tears off a huge strip of peel, clumsily dropping it on the floor. “Fuck.”
There’s a long pause at the end of the phone.”Uhhh… Neil. You did know it was Valentine’s Day on Saturday, right?”
“No! Why would I? I’ve never–” He scowls down at the orange, giving up and tossing it onto the couch and properly grabbing hold of his phone instead. “I’ve never made a thing of it before.”
“But you have Bailey plans?”
“I have Saturday Bailey plans. Coincidental ones.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “They’re staying over.”
Matt laughs slightly, sounding surprised. “Oh. Wow.”
“What?”
“No, nothing. Just… have you two uh… ya know? Yet?”
“Matt. We’re adults. We can say it..” He leans his head against the window, closing his eyes at the sensation of the cool glass against his skin. “We haven’t slept together yet. We’ve just kissed.”
And they’ve kissed a lot. Neil enjoys kissing. Bailey is good at kissing. Bailey’s lips are always smooth and soft, and they never have bad breath.
“But you want to? Or is that not…”
“I want to. I think.”
“You think?”
“It’s not that simple with me, remember? Everything has to be… right. And so far I’m not there yet.”
“You’ve not even had a little over the clothes action?”
Neil can’t help but snort. “Maybe a little.”
“That’s my boy.”
“I like them. A lot. I’m having a good time with them and I don’t want to… fuck it up somehow.” He swallows, opening his eyes and staring out of the window. “I can’t believe it’s Valentine’s Day. I should reschedule.”
“What? No.”
“We can’t have sex the first time on Valentine’s Day, Matt. They’ll think…”
“They’ll think what? That you’re into them? You are!” He pauses. “Right?”
Neil thinks about Bailey’s face. Pictures their cute little sideways smile. His stomach flutters slightly, because Neil is, undeniably, into Bailey. Which is why making such a big deal of Valentine’s Day feels like such a dumb thing to do.
“It’s a lot of pressure,” Neil says resignedly. “That’s all.”
“Neil, my man, you are a gorgeous little hotshot sports star and I’ve seen the way Bailey looks at you. They want to eat you up. Or get eaten up. Or both.”
“I know. And I want to eat them, too!” Neil pauses, and he hears Matt stifle a laugh. “Not what I meant.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. Eating pussy is the best. I could do it all day.”
Neil groans. “I do not need to hear that. Dan is basically my sister.”
“Not sorry. That woman tastes like a dream.”
“I’m hanging up now. Thank you for the Valentine’s reminder. I owe you.”
“Wait! I have tips!”
Neil spends almost two hours at the local mall that Saturday, with all the other hopeless idiots finding last minute Valentine’s Day gifts. He peruses boxes of candy, flowers, stuffed bears holding hearts that say B MINE in white cursive. He hates all of it. He hates pink. He hates chocolate. He hates that Matt even reminded him about this dumbass holiday.
He decides to ditch the Valentine’s displays and tries to think of something Bailey might actually need. He thinks about the last time they were together, the things they talked about. Music. Exy. Owls. Bailey loves owls. They showed him YouTube videos of owls doing stuff that was apparently funny, and he distracted them with neck kisses, until they finally switched off the TV and cupped his face in their hands and–
Their hands. Bailey’s hands are always cold. Neil has never noticed. But they complain about it a lot. He could get them gloves? Is that romantic? Neil has no idea what’s romantic. His last partner’s idea of a romantic date was sitting on the hood of the Maserati with In-N-Out burgers, smoking and exchanging handjobs even though their hands were salty from the fries.
In the end, he asks a member of staff. Which is how he ends up with…
“What is it?”
After dinner that night, Bailey unwrapped their gift, looking a little confused, and is now looking down at it, looking truly perplexed.
“It’s a hand warmer,” Neil says nervously, wondering if he’s misjudged this gift entirely. “You put it in the microwave and hold it between your palms, and it keeps your hands warm.”
“It has owls on it...” Bailey looks up at him. “Why did you get me a hand warmer?”
“Because… you get cold hands. Right?”
They stare at him, lost, then gasp. “Oh! Josten! That’s just an excuse to hold your hand, dumbass.”
Neil’s eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Oh my God.” They look down at the gift again. “Oh my god, you wonderful idiot. This is so fucking adorable.”
Neil grabs for it, embarassed. “Forget it. I’ll return it.”
Bailey snatches it away. “You will not. It has owls!”
“Bailey…”
“I love it! I just… why did you get me a gift?”
Neil pauses. “It’s… aren’t I supposed to? For Valentine's Day?”
Bailey stares at him, blinking slowly, then their jaw drops. “Oh my God, it’s Valentine’s Day.”
They stare at each other for a few moments, then Bailey cracks, bursting into a loud laugh, their mouth so wide that Neil can see their tongue piercing glinting in the light. He can’t help but grin at them.
“I forgot, too,” he says through a snort. “Matt told me,”
“Fuck!” They pout, looking genuinely upset as they pass the hand warmer from hand to hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t get you anything.”
“I mean… you forgot it was Valentine’s Day. Would have been pretty weird if you did get me something just for a random date.”
They look up at him. “I mean… It wasn't just a random date. Even if it didn’t happen to be the fourteenth of February.”
Neil frowns. “It wasn’t?”
“No…” they smirk. “It’s a sleepover. Remember?”
“Oh. Yeah. I mean… yeah.” He shrugs, trying not to look as nervous as he feels. “If you still want that.”
They laugh, as if it’s the stupidest thing Neil has ever said. Then they gasp, a metaphorical lightbulb appearing above their head, before handing the hand warmer back to Neil and suddenly disappearing into his bedroom. Neil stares at his bedroom door, lost.
“Bailey?”
“Give me a minute!”
He clears his throat, awkwardly sitting down on the couch and placing the gift down on the coffee table next to him. He looks around, wondering if he should have made more of an effort with his apartment for tonight. What do people do on nights like this? Light scented candles? Toss some rose petals on the bed?
With Andrew, it had been–
He shakes his head, forcibly removing the thought from his head, then his head whips around when he hears Bailey pointedly clearing their throat.
They’re standing in his bedroom doorway, wearing one of his exy jerseys that they’d apparently searched through his wardrobe to find. Neil would be pissed off at the invasion of his privacy, if it wasn’t for the fact that, apart from the jersey, they don’t seem to be wearing anything else. He swallows. Hard.
“Uhm…”
They smile, doing a cheesy-sexy lean against the doorframe. “You like?”
“That’s uh–”
Bailey looks good. The jersey falls down to the very top of their thighs, which are almost completely covered in colourful tattoos. Their hair is a little messy from the rushed change of clothes, and they’ve topped up the red lipstick they’re wearing. They tilt their head questioningly, tugging at the bottom of the jersey.
“I’m assuming from the look on your face, that’s a yes?”
“Yeah,” Neil says, the word coming out in an embarrassing croak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yes.”
“Does this make up for the lack of gift?”
“I… genuinely can’t think of anything you could have gotten me that would top this.”
Their smile gets even wider. “Speaking of topping…”
Neil raises an eyebrow, and Bailey laughs, pulling the jersey down a little and padding across the carpet towards him.
“Can we make out now?” they ask, pausing in front of him. "Pretty please?”
Neil has to school his face not to react to that word. Years of tiptoeing around it has conditioned him to find it oddly uncomfortable, and he has to remind himself that not everyone shares the same triggers. Bailey is standing in front of him, asking him, politely, to kiss them. There’s not a cell in his body that wants to say no.
He smiles. “Sure.”
They smile back at him, then climb into his lap, straddling him. Neil rests his hands on their legs, this position already familiar to them. Bailey pushes his hair from his eyes, then drapes their arms over his shoulders before leaning in to kiss him.
They taste good. As usual. A little minty and a little sweet and a little like the ravioli they had for dinner. Bailey always kisses Neil like they have all of the time in the world. Like there’s nothing they’d rather be doing. Neil sinks into it, like he always does, hands tracing over the warm skin of their thighs, pushing against the grain of the soft layer of hair, then smoothing it back down.
Bailey shivers at the gentle touch, shuffling forward in Neil’s lap, bringing them even closer together. Their hands slide into Neil’s hair, and they sigh against his mouth, starting to roll their hips just slightly. Barely. But enough to make Neil’s toes curl slightly in his sneakers.
“Mmmm,” he hums into Bailey’s mouth. “Bailey.”
They roll their hips again, grinding down a little harder, and Neil gasps. Bailey breaks the kiss, coming up for air and leaning their forehead against his, their eyes hooded as they stare into his.
“Do you…” they ask, a little breathless already. “Do you want more?”
“Yeah,” Neil says without hesitation, and it’s only in that moment that he realises; yes. He wants more. He wants this. He wants Bailey.
Maybe he’s not totally ruined, after all.
“Yes. I do.”
They nod. “What do you want to do?”
Neil pauses. “Lie back?”
Bailey’s breath catches. “Here?”
Neil nods, and Bailey bites their lip. Their lipstick is a disaster already, and Neil can only imagine how much of it has transferred to his face. Bailey takes a deep breath, then climbs out of Neil’s lap, lying back on the sofa and arranging the couch pillows underneath their head for comfort.
Neil watches them for a moment, then follows them down, carefully pinning them down with his weight, giving them plenty of time to object. Bailey looks far from concerned. In fact, they look positively molten, their pupils blown out and their cheeks getting steadily more pink.
Neil knows what he wants to do, but he’s never done it before. He’s blown Andrew, Plenty of times. So many times that he considers himself good at it. They’d just worked up to Neil eating Andrew’s ass before they broke up and it had been a cautious, hesitant development. This… this is an entirely different ball game.
“I want to go down on you,” he tells them. “Talk me through it?”
Bailey lets out a shaky breath. “Happily.”
They help Neil to pull down the briefs they’re wearing under the jersey, clumsily kicking them onto the floor. Neil shimmies his way down the sofa, leaving quick kisses over the jersey along the way, as Bailey buries their fingers in his hair, encouraging him further, until he’s settled between their legs.
The first touch of his mouth is cautious, barely there, but still makes Bailey gasp, their fingers tightening against his scalp.
“Okay…” Bailey says soothingly. “There you go…”
Neil knew this would be different, but he wasn’t expecting just how different Bailey tastes. How different they smell. It’s instantly intoxicating, and when Neil slowly drags his tongue upwards through their soft folds, and feels them twitch in response, he thinks this is something he could definitely get used to.
“Good… perfect.” They talk him through it. Just as he asked. “Just… slow like that. But a little harder.”
Neil nods, and tries again. Slow, slow, a hard press of his tongue against warm, sharp-tasting skin. Bailey shudders, their legs falling apart even wider, bucking up just slightly against his mouth.
“Fuck.”
Neil looks up at them. “Okay?”
They nod frantically. “Keep going. You can speed up a little.”
Neil finds a rhythm. Dragging his tongue back and forth, sliding his right hand underneath Bailey’s jersey until he reaches their chest. He drags the pads of his fingers over their nipple, then along the scar tissue that’s underneath them. Bailey moans, starting to roll their hips in time to his licks, their breath getting heavy.
“Okay…” they whisper, reaching down and gently pushing his mouth away. “Just…”
Neil watches, fascinated, as they use their fingers to spread their lips apart, exposing themselves even more. Neil licks his lips, knowing exactly what it is they’re asking for. He swallows, then leans in again, sealing his lips around the swollen bud of their clit and gently sucking.
Bailey gasps loudly. “Fuck! Oh my god.”
Neil tries to pull away again, to check they’re okay, and Bailey groans, holding his head in place and pushing their hips harder against his mouth.
“Don’t stop. Keep going, keep going.”
Neil keeps going. Switching between sucking and pulsing his tongue against Bailey’s clit, until he starts to feel their thighs shaking.
“Just like that… don’t– don’t speed up or slow down, just… just like–” they cant their hips at one particularly hard suck. “That! Oh my God. Oh my God. Just…”
Bailey comes with one hand in Neil’s hair and the other still spreading themselves apart for his mouth. Their back arches from the couch, and Neil groans at the sensation of their pussy pulsing and throbbing against his tongue. Neil breathes through his nose, kneads at Bailey’s thigh until they start to come down, breathing shakily and rolling their hips against him weakly until they finally push him away, cupping themselves with their hand and hissing at the sensitivity.
“Holy fuck,” they mumble. “Wow.”
Neil sits up, catching his breath and wiping his mouth, surprised by how wet it feels. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Yes.” They clumsily pull themselves up. To Neil’s surprise, they immediately climb back into his lap, happily kissing the taste of themselves from his mouth. “You… are a very fast learner.”
He laughs slightly, kissing them back and holding them close. Only when they grind themselves down against his crotch does he realise he’s gotten hard. They smile when they notice, grinding down again. Neil buries his fists in the fabric of the jersey Bailey is wearing, moaning quietly against their lips.
“Shit. Are you… already?”
“Oh, yeah,” they say proudly. “I could go again. Having a cunt is the best.”
Neil can’t help but laugh. “Wow.”
“If you want to?”
Neil stares at them, thinking, and Bailey pauses their hips, looking at him seriously.
“You do want to. Right?”
“I do. I want to. I’ve just…” he takes a breath. “I’ve never done that. Like that.”
“Oh!” They raise an eyebrow. “I mean… if that’s what you like, I’m down. I have a strap.”
Neil furrows his brow. “You brought that?”
They grin. “Always prepared.”
“Is that what you want?” He squeezes at their thighs. “Because… I want what you want.”
Bailey’s cheeks turn even pinker. Neil didn’t think they were capable of being bashful until now. “Oh. Well. In that case… I kind of really, really want you inside of me right now.”
Neil feels his cock twitch, and he swallows. “Then I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“I could lead?” They rock their hips again, pointedly. “Like this?”
Neil groans, pulling them into another quick kiss, before clumsily lifting them up and dropping them down onto the other side of the couch.
“Condom,” he says, pulling himself up off of the couch and stumbling slightly.
Bailey laughs as Neil quickly goes into his bedroom, running to the bedside cabinet and pulling the drawer open. He finds a box of condoms, fishing one out and turning back to leave, before hesitating and turning back to check the expiry on the box. They’re good. Thank fuck. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining that the box has been gathering dust for over a year.
When he heads back to the couch, Bailey is sitting back, legs open, chewing on their bottom lip and almost absentmindedly dragging their fingers through the wetness between their legs. Neil curses under his breath, walking the rest of the way at a faster pace, ripping the condom wrapper open with his teeth at the same time.
Bailey laughs, stops touching themselves so they can shuffle closer to the edge of the couch and grab Neil’s hips when he gets close enough— gazing up at him with heavy eyes. They flutter their eyelashes, then start to undo the fly of his jeans.
When Bailey tongues carefully at the head of his cock, he gasps and jerks at the sensation of the cold metal stud against his skin, almost dropping the condom to the floor in the process.
“Fuck.”
They smile, looking back up at him.
“Not tonight, baby. My dick sucking has to be savoured.”
Neil huffs, and Bailey laughs, pushing him back onto the couch next to them, and climbing back into his lap. He can feel the warmth radiating from them, the need that’s echoing in him at the point where their bodies meet. They take the condom from his hand, reaching down and expertly rolling the rubber onto his cock. He hisses, closing his eyes, suddenly feeling so worked up that he doesn’t know how he’s going to last thirty seconds once they—
“Ready?” Bailey asks, snapping him out of it.
Neil nods, tries his best to speak, but all that leaves his mouth is a quiet uh huh.
Bailey lifts a little, lines him up, and sinks down onto his cock in one slow movement. Neil groans, his head dropping to Bailey’s shoulder. Bailey feels tight, and hot, and wet, and like nothing he’s ever felt before.
“Fuck. That’s good. You feel good.”
“Mmm. You don’t—” they cut themselves off with a groan as they roll their hips. “You don’t feel too shabby either.”
“It’s good?”
“Yes, Neil. Holy shit.”
They lean back, going to take off the jersey but Neil finds himself whimpering, grabbing their wrists to stop them. “Wait. Don’t. I like it.”
Bailey pauses, then grins, then tugs their wrists from Neil’s grip, pulling the jersey back down into place. They give him a look that can only spell danger, then reach over his shoulders, gripping onto the couch behind him. Bailey gives Neil one last look, then takes a breath, lifting up slowly, then dropping back down hard and fast,
Neil moans, his hands grabbing onto Bailey’s back,
“Hold on tight, baby,” Bailey says with a smirk.
Neil holds on tight. Tugging so desperately at the jersey that he’s sure it’s going to be stretched beyond saving. Bailey is riding him like their life depends on it, and it feels so fucking good that Neil can’t believe he put this off for so long.
Bailey is jubilant with it– grinning at him, laughing between gasps of breath. Neil manages to let go of the back of the jersey with one hand, clutching at Bailey’s chest instead and feeling their hard nipple through the fabric. Neil pinches at the sensitive nub, and Bailey suddenly looks much more serious– their mouth falling open, staring down at Neil’s lips, but unable to spare the breath to kiss him.
“Fuck. Fuck, Josten. I’m gonna come.”
Bailey’s thighs clench around his hips, and at that moment, instinct takes over. Neil doesn’t fight the urge that comes over him, and he grabs Bailey’s waist, pushing them down onto the couch and pinning them down.
Bailey gasps, shocked, then wraps their legs around him tightly. They kiss roughly, and Bailey moans loudly as Neil fucks them harder, his hands digging into the sofa cushions behind Bailey’s head for leverage.
He closes his eyes, sees flashes of hazel eyes dotted with gold, feels phantom teeth digging into his shoulder, imagines warm come spilling inside of him.
Then, Neil is coming with a gasp, pulling his mouth from Bailey’s so that he can bury his face into the pillow by their head, muffling the loud, broken moan that seems to come out of his mouth before he can stop it. He feels Bailey clench around him as they fall over the edge again, feels them bury their hands in his hair and arch their back from the couch again.
“Oh my God,” Bailey repeats as they both grind their hips in slow circles, chasing the aftershocks and trying to come down from their mutual high. “Holy fuck. Where did that– where did you come from?”
Neil doesn’t answer, his face still buried in the throw pillow as he catches his breath.
He did it. With someone else. He had sex with someone else. Someone who isn’t Andrew. And it was good. He feels relief. Guilt. A strange ache in his gut. He wants to run. He wants to know how quickly he can get Bailey to come again.
Eventually, he notices gentle fingers carding through his hair, bringing him back to the present.
“Are you okay?” Bailey asks quietly, concern tinting their voice.
Neil takes a breath, then finally looks up. They stare at him, moving a hand to palm his cheek with their decidedly not-cold hand. They look flushed. Their hair sticking to the sweat on their forehead. They’re so fucking beautiful.
Neil nods. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Bailey smiles, relieved, then pulls him down into a slow, sweet kiss.