Scenes from a Relationship:
down the rabbit hole

"You're fucking nuts." Dean shook his head at his friend. "Have I ever told you that?"

"Daily," said Joey, putting his hat on and straightening it in the mirror. "I'm still doing it. Are you coming or not?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm coming. Of course. When do I not come when you pull one of these crazy fucking stunts?"

"It's just a tattoo," said Joey. "It's not like I'm getting a fucking sex change or something. Come on...let's get out of here."

"It's just as permanent," muttered Dean as they left Joey's bedroom and headed down the stairs. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I'm eighteen now," said Joey, stepping outside after Dean and pulling out his keys to lock the front door. "I'm old enough to make up my own mind about how I want to mutilate my body. And I've been wanting this forever."

"I know, I know, you never stop fucking talking about it. Fine, whatever. Where is this place anyway?" The both got into Dean's car, and Joey pulled a business card out of his back pocket.

"Here's the address," he said, handing it over. "Lita says this place is good. It's where she got that fairy dragon on her back done."

Dean rolled his eyes as he started the car and backed out of the driveway. "Lita endorsing the place isn't exactly boosting my confidence, Joe. You're sure about this? Absolutely sure?"

"Goddammit, yes," he said. "Just drive." Joey rolled down his window and lit a cigarette, watching the houses go by as they made their way downtown.

Dean glanced over at him. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked. "You don't smoke."

Joey looked at the cigarette and shrugged. "I needed something to calm my nerves," he admitted. "Which does not mean I'm having second thoughts. I even know what I want to get."

"What?" asked Dean, then waved his hand in the air to keep Joey from answering. "Nevermind. Let me guess...superman?"

Joey grinned and took another drag off the cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window. "You know me too well. Oh, hey, turn here, we're almost there."

"I know where we are," said Dean, turning. "I know my way around this city better than you do."

"Hmm, intimately familiar with the seedy side of Orlando, are you?" said Joey, finishing the smoke and throwing the butt out the window, onto the pavement. He watched in the side mirror as a flurry of sparks flew up in the air, then died out as quickly as they'd appeared.

"I don't kiss and tell," said Dean, pulling into the first parking spot he saw free. "We're walking from here. I don't feel like circling the block for an hour."

"Fine," said Joey, waiting for him to shut off the engine before stepping out of the car. "It's not far. It's just up the street and around the corner."

Dean looked up and down the street. "This isn't exactly a good neighborhood. Are you sure this place is legit?"

Joey rolled his eyes. "It's fucking Orlando, Deano. There are no bad neighborhoods. You should see New York some time."

"Oh god, you are not playing the Big Badass from New York again," groaned Dean as they began walking down the street. "Don't even bother. I know you're really a pansy-boy."

Joey smacked him on the back of the head as he paused to light another cigarette. "You know I don't like that word. And you know I can kick your ass if you use it."

"Right, right, sorry," muttered Dean, rubbing his head as they continued walking. "I know you're really a fag."

"Yes," said Joey, nodding his head. "Fag is much more acceptable." He held out the cigarette to his friend, offering him a drag, but he refused with a swift shake of his head. They walked another block and turned the corner and the place was right there. "Tattoo Parlor," was painted in bold letters on the wooden sign, which was the only identification on the place.

Dean hesitated, but Joey dropped his cigarette to the pavement, grinding it under his heel, and marched right inside. The place was surprisingly well lit, hidden from the outside by the blacked out windows. Joey scanned through the designs tacked up on the wall until someone nearby cleared his throat.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah," said Joey. "I want to get a tattoo."

"Yeah, that's why most people come in," he said, sounding bored. "Come here and sign this form, then just head in back if you know what you want. Dirk'll take care of you...he's not busy tonight."

"I know what I want," said Joey, stepping up to the desk. He quickly scanned over the form and signed his name at the bottom. He's seen exactly the design he wanted on the wall, a smallish version of the Superman shield. Clearly he wasn't the first person who'd ever wanted it.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Dean standing there. "Last chance to back out, man," he said quietly.

"I'm not backing out,' said Joey with a wide, brave smile. "I've come this far." With a wink at his friend, he stepped through the curtain and into the back. "Hello?" he said, looking around.

"Hey, sit down, I'll be right there," said a voice from a room off to the side. Joey sat down on the stool and looked around the small room, avoiding looking at the gun and other equipment that was on a table to his right. He knew he wanted to do this, he just didn't want to think about how it was done.

A moment later, the man who'd been speaking stepped out of the room and switched off the light. He was younger than Joey had been expecting. Way younger. "Are you sure you're old enough to be doing this?" he joked nervously.

"Ah," the man said knowingly. "A first timer. Well, right there's stuff I've already done," he said, pointing at a series of snapshots on the wall. "Make up your own mind."

Joey glanced briefly at the photos, but spent more time looking at the tattoo artist in front of him. He had spiky red hair--not a natural red but a bright, fire engine red--and a thick ring in his eyebrow. He only had one visible tattoo, surprisingly--a series of tiny letters on his left wrist that Joey couldn't quite read. He couldn't have been more than a couple years older than Joey himself, if that.

Joey exhaled slowly and looked away. Fuck. Either he wanted this guy, or he wanted to be this guy. Or possibly both.

"So what do you want, kid?"

"Kid?" said Joey incredulously. "You've gotta be kidding me."

The guy put his hands on Joey's shoulders and made him look straight at him. "I'm gonna take a wild guess here," he began, his gaze intense. "You're still in high school. Probably turned eighteen within the last week, if not today. You've been waiting ages to get a tattoo because the folks wouldn't let you, and now you think you're the big man because you can march in here all by your lonesome.

"Meanwhile, you're scared as shit but you don't wanna stop now. Especially since you've got a friend out there waiting--I can see him pacing from here--who'll never let you live it down if you do, even though he probably thought you were a nutjob for wanting to come here in the first place. Am I close?"

Joey cleared his throat. "You sure have a way of making people feel at ease," he muttered.

"Ain't my job," he said. "If you don't want this, leave now. And if you do, then tell me what you want so I can get started."

"Superman," said Joey, trying to keep his voice steady. "I want Superman."

The guy laughed. "Well, so do I, kid, but I don't think it's in the cards." He shook his head. "Superman. I shoulda guessed that. Nice T-shirt, by the way."

Joey looked down at his Superman T-shirt and smiled. "Thanks," he said.

"Well, you've got balls, anyway," he said with an endearing grin. "I like that. More'n half the people I give that talk to get right up outta that seat and walk out the door. I'm Dirk, by the way," he said, holding out his hand.

"Joey. Joey Fatone." He deliberately left off the 'Junior', and shook hands firmly. "I want it on my ankle."

"On your ankle?" he repeated. "Girls get tattoos on their ankles."

"Girls and me," said Joey firmly. Dirk looked at the expression on his face and grinned again, shaking his head and picking up the design that Joey wanted so he could place it properly.

"Your choice," he said.

"Next time I get one, you can tell me a more manly place to put it, how about?" said Joey, putting his leg up on the second stool that was placed in front of him. "Let me be a wuss for my first time."

Dirk paused for a moment, then lifted the leg of his jeans to show off a small cross tattoo on his ankle. "That was my first," he said, winking then sitting down to place the design. Joey laughed, and Dirk put a firm hand on his shin to hold his leg still. "How's that?"

Joey looked down. "Perfect," he said with a smile.

Dirk nodded. "Okay," he said, setting out the inks and beginning to prepare the gun. "This is gonna hurt a little, but it's small so it won't take long. Let me know if it gets to be too much and I'll take a break. Better than than having you jerk. You can grip the sides of the stool, or I can get your boyfriend in here if you want and you can grip his hand."

"He's not my boyfriend," said Joey, too quickly.

"Well, grip the stool, then. But for god's sake, whatever you do, don't grip me. Got it?" Joey nodded. "Ready?" Joey nodded again. "Okay."

Joey winced as he felt the first pinching, burning sensation of the rapid needles inserting ink into his flesh. After a moment, though, it wasn't quite so bad and he relaxed a little. "So, how old are you?" he asked after about five minutes, hoping that talking to the artist at work wasn't against the rules.

"Twenty-one," he answered. "Most people ask that before I start."

"I'm not asking to check your credentials," said Joey. "Now I'm just making conversation."

"Most people don't do that, either."

"Sorry," he said, falling into silence again.

"I don't mind," said Dirk, and Joey could see the edge of another grin on his face, though his attention was still focused on his work. "I get so bored, sometimes. I get these rich, uptown chicks coming in here all the time, getting their thrills by coming down here and spending daddy's hard-earned cash on a bit of rebellion, I guess, and they end up sitting there in stony fucking silence all the time. It bites."

"One of those rich, uptown chicks is named Lita," replied Joey. "She recommended the place to me."

"Shit," said Dirk. "She a friend of yours?"

"She's a bitch," admitted Joey. "But she throws good parties."

"Nothing wrong with a chick who throws great parties and clearly has excellent taste," admitted Dirk. "Even if she does throw daddy's money around like water. Can I tell you a secret?"

"I guess," said Joey warily.

"I overcharge them. A lot, sometimes. Hell, they can afford it. Makes it easier to give freebies out to people like you." He was grinning again as he switched over the ink colour.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, kid. Freebie. One-shot deal. Hell, you're my last customer of the night, and I made a killing this afternoon, already. Skater who's getting his full back done. It's gonna be wicked when I finish it."

"Shit. I don't know what to say."

"Thank you would be appropriate, but not necessary," said Dirk, feigning crisp politeness. "Having a beer with me when I get off would be better," he added, a bit more gruffly.

"Would the beer be before or after I get you off?" asked Joey quietly, daringly.

Dirk paused and looked up at him, then grinned widely. Joey felt himself get hot again, looking at that expression. He couldn't believe he'd said out loud what he'd been thinking, but it was out now and there was nothing to be done about it. "You're a quick one," said Dirk. "I like that, too. Almost done, here..." He turned back to his work again.

Joey had almost forgotten about the pain; it had become something vague and persistent in the back of his mind. What was more noticable to him was the way his heart was pounding. He'd fooled around with guys before, and his close friends all knew that he was queer, but he'd never felt anything quite like this towards anyone before. It was like...lust mixed with intrigue--an intoxicating combination.

"Done," said Dirk suddenly, putting the gun aside and wiping a bit of blood away. "Take a quick look, then I gotta cover it up."

Joey looked down at it. He'd been watching Dirk's face the whole time, avoiding watching the needles go into his flesh. "Hey...that rocks," he said, not quite believing yet that he'd finally gone and gotten a tattoo. Dirk smirked a little at the expression, then covered the fresh tattoo with what looked like saran wrap, affixed with surgical tape.

"Try not to get it wet for at least 48 hours," he said. "Moisturize it daily until it heals. And don't pick at the scab, cause that'll fuck it up. this." He handed Joey a card with instructions printed on it. "We keep those to hand out so people don't forget. Not that they read em. Fuck, I get more people in here for touch-ups within two weeks, than...well, I won't get into it."

He stripped his latex gloves off and threw them in the trash, cleaning up his stuff. "So, you sticking around for a beer or what?" he asked, his back turned to Joey who was still seated on the stool, staring with a giddy grin at his tattoo.

"What? Oh, hell yeah!" he answered. "If you can give me a lift back to my place later, I can tell Deano to head off without me. Or, I can get a cab. Whatever."

"I can give you a ride. That's cool," said Dirk "Go tell your little friend to run home without you...tell him you're gonna be tied up for a while."

"He'd take me literally," warned Joey, stepping off the stool. He watched Dirk clean up for another moment, then stepped through the curtain to the waiting room on the other side. Dean looked up immediately.

" really went through with it?" he said, getting to his feet. Joey proudly showed off his new Superman tattoo. "Wow. So you ready to head off?"

"Actually," said Joey, his eyes flicking back to the curtain. "I'm sticking around for a while. You go ahead, Deano. I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

"What? What the fuck are you talking ab--" Dean broke off and stared at the curtain, suspicion dawning on his face. "You're shitting me, Fatone. Tell me you're shitting me."

Joey shrugged. "I'm just gonna hang for a while. No big deal."

Dean raised his hands. "Whatever, man. Whatever turns your crank. me, okay? Call me when you get in."

Joey rolled his eyes. "You sound like my mother."

"That's my condition. Call me when you get in or I ain't leaving without you. Someone's gotta watch your sorry ass, Fatone, cause you sure ain't doin' a good job of it." Dean crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

"Fine. Whatever. Just get outta here, McTavish." Joey grinned at him a little and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Be safe," was all he said as he slipped out the door and onto the street.

Dirk came through the curtains a few moments after Dean left, deadbolting the door and putting the 'closed' sign up. "That's it," he said. "Come on to the back. I got a fridge back there. We'll put on some music and shoot the shit for a while."

"Sounds good," said Joey, following him back through the curtain and into the side room that Dirk had been in when he arrived.

Dirk handed him a bottle of beer, slick with condensation, then opened one for himself. "Sit down," he said, gesturing vaguely at a battered grey couch. Joey looked at it nervously, then sat himself down on the edge to prevent being swallowed. Dirk had no such reservations, closing the fridge and sitting down heavily on the other end.

"So how right was I earlier?" he asked with no preamble, swallowing half the beer in one long gulp. Joey sipped his own, and looked at Dirk blankly. "You're eighteen? High school?"

Joey nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "Today. It's my birthday."

"Well, happy birthday," said Dirk, raising his beer in half a toast. "I hope it was a good one."

"It sucked," said Joey. "I had to work. I didn't even have a party. This," he said, gesturing at the room, at the two of them, "has been the best part of my night."

"If this is the highlight of your day," said Dirk, raising an eyebrow, "then I guess it HAS been crappy. Where do you work?" He took another long gulp of beer, then set the empty bottle on the floor next to him.

Joey flushed a little. "Universal," he admitted. "I'm a performer there." Usually he felt damn proud of what he did, even though it was the bottom rung of performing jobs, but Dirk made him feel almost like anything that didn't involve pain and sweat and a few beers afterwards was weak.

"What?" said Dirk, laughing aloud. "You're shitting me!"

"What's wrong with that?" asked Joey, somewhat sullenly.

"Wrong?" said Dirk. "Nothing! I think it's great. Most kids your age are packing groceries or working at McDonald's or some shit like that. I know I sure as hell was. You wanna be an actor?"

Joey nodded. "I've been an extra in some stuff already. It's hard work but I like it." He sipped the beer again. It wasn't bad, but for once he was enjoying talking more than drinking.

"I've got a cousin who's an actress," said Dirk. "Well, not an actress, really. She does pornos. But I hear all the stuff about waiting for the lighting and the cameras and doing shit over and over and over again. I don't think I'd like it much." He began rubbing his right hand with his left, wincing a little as he tried to work the stiffness out of it.

"I don't do pornos," said Joey unnecessarily, wondering if he'd ever seen Dirk's cousin in anything. "Your hand hurt?"

"Yeah," said Dirk. "It's been a long fucking, day. It gets like this, cramps up. It'll be okay in a bit." He shook the hand out a little, then started rubbing it a little.

"Fuck," said Joey, putting his beer on the floor and scooting over closer to Dirk, holding out his hand expectantly. "Let me do that."

Dirk looked at him warily, then let Joey take his sore hand. Diligently Joey started rubbing the tension out of it with both hands. "Fuck, that feels good," mumbled Dirk, sinking further back into the couch. "I used to fuck around with this guy who would do that for me...but he fucked off to California last year, haven't seen him since."

"Hardly does you any good to have to do it for yourself," said Joey, trying to ignore the fact that he was getting hard, that he was getting turned on, that he wanted very much to fuck around with this guy. "I used to do this for my mom sometimes, when her hands and feet hurt after work."

"You have a lucky mother," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, Joey saw Dirk reach down and adjust himself slightly with his free hand, shifting his position on the couch. "Kalen was never this good at it."

"You might find," said Joey, lowering his voice a little and continuing rubbing up Dirk's wrist and onto his forearm. "That I'm better at a lot of things than Kalen was."

To his surprise, Dirk laughed aloud. "There is no one on this planet that sucks dick better than Kalen did," he said, shifting in his seat again. "Not that I doubt you, but I can't imagine you have that much experience at your age."

"Some," said Joey, his body turning more towards Dirk's as he moved the massage further up his arm. "More than you probably think." He winced a little as the tattoo brushed up against the coarse fabric of the couch.

"Careful," said Dirk. "That's gonna be tender for a couple days. Joey--" He sighed unexpectly and the sentence broke off. Joey looked up at his face, saw his eyes closing and a smile--and genuine smile--spreading slowly across it. "I'm not going to fuck around with you, Joey."

Joey tried to keep his disappointment from showing. "You're not," he repeated. "Okay. Well, I guess you never said you would. I just thought--"

"Shut up, I'm not done," said Dirk, opening his eyes, the smile still on his face. "I like you too much, Joey. I don't want to just fuck around. I'd hate myself if I did."

"You do?" he said, still rubbing Dirk's arm, moving back towards the wrist again. "I thought someone like you...I mean...fuck it. I don't know what I mean. Can I say something?"

"You think I'd stop you?"

"You're fucking hot, Dirk, okay? I mean...I've wanted you since I walked in here. And you're interesting...and you're fucking talking to me, which most people don't bother with. But I thought you wouldn't want anything, and that if you did want anything that you'd want me out of here as soon as we were done. So I don't know what to think now."

"So what do you want?" he asked, his eyes closing again as Joey worked his fingers on his palm, loosinging all the muscles there.

"To get to know you better," said Joey honestly. Dirk wasn't a guy he could beat around the bush with, not like the rest of his friends that he could talk around, that he could hide things from. He found he really, really liked that. "To make out with you, too, but that's my dick talking."

"Yeah, I have a pretty loud dick, too," said Dirk, grinning. For the first time, Joey actually dared to look at him, to see the outline of his erection through the worn denim of his jeans. "It's telling me it wants to bend you over the coffee table and do you right there. But I'm telling it to wait a bit."

Joey eyed the coffee table a bit nervously. "Probably best to wait on that," he agreed. His jeans were getting tighter and tighter, and finally he had to adjust himself to keep from cutting off his circulation. It wasn't like Dirk didn't already know how much Joey wanted him, so why hide it.

"Hm, maybe I should stop calling you kid," said Dirk, blatantly starting at Joey'd crotch, then looking up into his eyes. Joey let his hand go and turned his body completely around moving up to straddle Dirk. "Comfortable?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Very," said Joey. "You?"

"I'm good," he replied. "Kinda hard to talk like this, though."

Joey shrugged. "We can try," he said, shifting slightly to maintain his balance without falling forward into Dirk's body. "Kill two birds with one stone." He reached sideways and managed--barely--to snag his beer off the floor, taking a long swig of it. "How'd you get into this whole tattoo thing anyway?"

"Couldn't afford art college," said Dirk. "Sick of slinging fast food. Wanted to move out of my parents' place. Thought it might be fun to stick needles in my friends. Lots of reasons." He shifted again so that his groin was pressed up against Joey's. There would be no mistake about who was in control of this little scenario. "Mostly because it's my passion."

"Everyone's got to have a passion," said Joey.

"So what's yours, then? Acting?"

"Singing," said Joey. "It's what I love more than anything. Singing and dancing." He grinned, a little sheepishly and a little challengingly. "Did that sound too faggy?"

"If that's your passion, then why the fuck aren't you out there doing it, Joey?"

"I am," he said, rolling his pelvis against Dirk's lightly. "The show I'm in? At Universal? It's a good start. And I'm in this singing group with some guys I go to school with. So...I'm getting started."

Dirk reached out to hold onto Joey's hips, pressing their bodies even closer together. "So when you're a big rock star, I can say 'I knew him when', huh," he joked. "I'm sure that'll impress my customers."

"More like...a big broadway star," said Joey, his own hands reaching out to grip Dirk's shoulders as they began to slowly move together. "That's more my thing."

"Broadway?" said Dirk, gasping as Joey thrust against him, then masking it with a chuckle. "As in show tunes? Chorus lines? Guys dressed up like giant cats?"

Joey shrugged vaguely. "It's what I like," he said. "What, you worried that being seen with a guy who likes show tunes is gonna ruin your rep?"

"I don't give a fuck about any kind of rep," he said, speeding up the motion of their bodies grinding against one another. "I do what I want to do. That's it. And right now I want to do you."

"Just right now?" asked Joey leaning forward and sinking his teeth into Dirk's shoulder as he rode him, both still fully clothed.

"Right now, tomorrow, next week," said Dirk, his breathing starting to become ragged. "But now...for a start." His hands moved around to grab Joey's ass as they rocked hard against one another, squeezing it with each motion. "Okay, talking's over now." He moved one hand up to grip the back of Joey's head, tangling his fingers in that soft brown hair.

Joey had to force his breaths in and out; his body wanted to forget about everything except grinding against Dirk's, except being teased the layers of fabric between Dirk's cock and his, except rubbing and rubbing and finding release.

"I'm gonna come," he hissed. "I'm gonna come in my fucking pants." He didn't slow down, didn't care, didn't want to stop.

"That's okay," growled Dirk. "So'm I."

Joey shuddered as he came, flooding his underwear and leaving a stain on the front of his jeans. He bit down so hard, he almost drew blood. Dirk let out a groan as Joey bit him, and bucked up against him with frantic motions until he came explosively, digging his fingertips into Joey's ass and his nails into Joey's scalp.

They both gasped for breath for a moment, shifting uncomfortably as the wetness in their jeans began to cool off. "Well," said Dirk finally. "You're certainly quite the conversationalist."

"You're not so bad yourself," grinned Joey. He reached for his beer again, and drained the rest of the bottle with one swallow before setting the bottle aside. "'ve definitely made it a better birthday."

"I suggest we get naked next time," said Dirk, pulling his sticky black t-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans as Joey pulled back, away from him, stretching and unintentionally cracking his back. "It's easier to clean up."

Joey leaned to the side and flopped down onto the couch next to Dirk, leaving both his legs up over his lap. He put his hand over his softening dick for a moment and groaned as he felt just how much had soaked into the thick fabric. That was gonna be hard to hide if anyone was up when he got home.

Dirk reached over and grabbed a pack of smokes from a nearby table, lighting one and inhaling deeply. "I would have asked if you minded," he said. "But I smelled it on you when you came in." He offered one to Joey, but he shook his head.

"You smelled me when I came in?"

Dirk grinned, exhaling to the side. "You can tell a lot about a person by the way they smell."

"Like what," said Joey, lacing his fingers behind his head, becoming more comfortable by the second despite the mess that was gluing his clothing to him. Dirk looked less intimidating to him now. Despite his blunt honesty there had been a veneer to him, a slight pose of being a real badass to his customers. That had been stripped away now, his smiles more genuine and less menacing, his speech more fluid.

Dirk looked him up and down. "You smoked right before you came in," he said. "It was still lingering on you, but not as a pervasive background scent. You don't wear cologne. You DO wear speed stick deodorant. And you're using this fucking fruity shampoo. Like...strawberries or something."

Joey ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. "It's my sister's," he said. "I ran out."

"That's what they all say," said Dirk, grinning wryly as he flicked the cigarette with his thumb, bumping the ashes off the other end. "You don't have to make excuses. It smells good. Not like that perfumey shit that all those chicks come in here wearing. Man, that stuff reeks sometimes."

"Gives me a headache," said Joey, closing his eyes. "So what does your smell say about you?"

Dirk shrugged, taking another drag. "Smell me and find out."

Joey grinned and propped himself back up, burying his face in Dirk's neck and breathing deeply. "You smell like sweat," he said quietly. "And hair gel and smoke and tomatoes." He lay a hand on the other side of Dirk's neck and moved back so that he could see his face. "Would it be okay if I kissed you now?"

"Don't ask," said Dirk, dropping the remains of his cigarette in the ashtray. "Just do it."

"You could, too, you know."

"Fine, I will." Dirk leaned forward and pressed his lips against Joey's firmly, then after a moment parted them and teased Joey's with his tongue and teeth until he did the same. They let their tongues explore each other for a long, long time. Dirk bit down slightly on Joey's lower lip before pulling away.

He stripped his shirt completely off and threw it aside, putting his arms around Joey again. "Maybe we'll get to that naked part sooner than I thought," he said, kissing him again. "You don't have anywhere you need to be?"

"Hell no," said Joey, his heart racing as he quickly caught on to Dirk's intentions. He'd thought his birthday would end with him lying at home alone in bed, a new tattoo throbbing on his ankle, wondering how his eighteenth birthday had been so crappy. Instead he was here, with a guy he desired more than anything, about to have sex. He brought their lips together again and wouldn't let go.

"Fuck, I should have brought you home," said Dirk. "If I'd known we were going to fuck. There's a bed there that's a hell of a lot more comfortable than this couch."

"Shut up," braved Joey, kissing him again. "Right now, I don't care about a bed, or a couch, or anything but fucking. kiss and I'm crazy for you already. I don't do this all the time, Dirk. I--"

Dirk grinned at him. "Shut up," he said quietly and pulled Joey's shirt off over his head. They kissed without parting as Dirk managed to strip the rest of his clothing off, tossing it over the back of the couch. Joey bit down on Dirk's lip as he tried to strip his own jeans off and had one of the legs catch around his ankle.

Dirk pulled away and laughed a little, leaning over to yank the offending jeans off and toss them over the back of the couch with his own. "That's better," he said, frankly appraising Joey's body now that they were both naked, both hard, both beginning to flush with internal heat. "I like," he said, leaning in to take Joey into his arms again.

Their hand began frantically exploring the other's body, sliding across all the planes, dipping through all the curves, twisting in each other's hair and skidding across sweaty flesh as they kissed with a voracious appetite for more. Dirk's teeth bit gently into Joey's earlobe, then he whispered, "I want to fuck you so bad, Joey...."

"Then do it," said Joey, keeping his voice from shaking both with nervousness and anticipation. He'd done this before, but not without a whole night of buildup and foreplay. But no just wasn't an option. He wanted this, he ached for it as much as he feared it. "Be careful."

"I'm not an animal," whispered Dirk, kissing behind Joey's ear, his hands sliding down his back. "Unless you want me to be." He moved away for a moment and looked around the room, as though searching for something, then leaned forward and cleared the coffee table with one swipe of his arm. "Bend over this," he said, gently coaxing him with his hands.

Joey remembered the comment from earlier and smiled; he'd thought it sounded hot then, if a little intimidating. Well, it was even hotter now when he was seconds away from doing it...but then everything seems a little less scary and a little more normal in the heat of the moment. He let Dirk move him into position, shifting as he tried to let his body heat the cold wood beneath him.

"Oh god," he breathed as he felt Dirk kneel behind him, felt his cheeks being spread and a spit-lubricated finger entering him slowly and carefully. A lot more carefully than he'd expected, but GOD it felt good, so good, so amazing. His eyes fluttered closed and his jaw hung open as Dirk stroked inside him, one hand resting on his lower back to steady them.

Then one finger became two, and the strokes became thrusts, and honest-to-god lubrication was added to the spit, and he thought he might come before Dirk even got inside. He couldn't see what was happening, but he knew, he could hear Dirk's sharp breaths, hear the small noises he was trying to keep himself from making, feel those tender caresses that Dirk's thumb was giving him in the small of his back.

"Fuck," he heard Dirk hiss, felt him tilt away for a moment, felt his fingers stop moving inside his body. "Fuck...oh thank GOD." Then Dirk's fingers slipped out entirely and Joey heard the sound of a condom being open, heard the intake of breath as Dirk unrolled it along his length. "Are you ready? he asked quietly.

Joey's eyes blinked open in confusion for a moment. "Wha...ready?" he said, any reservations he'd had forgotten. "Yeah...ready...fuck me..." At those words, Dirk pushed inside him slowly, and Joey squeezed his eyes tightly shut again until he got used to the sensation. He remembered sex being vaguely like this, but at the same time not like this at all. Nothing had ever been quite like this.

Then Dirk began moving inside him, pushing in and out, then thrusting harder, hard enough to shift the whole table so that they needed a few seconds to regain their balance. Joey felt bolts of pleasure shoot straight to his brain with each thrust. He never wanted this to end, and at the same time he was desperate to come, desperate to help this aching, throbbing hardness reach a climax.

With an shaking hand he reached down and began to stroke himself; he barely need to touch it for the pleasure to intensify. As soon as Dirk was certain that Joey could take this, he started slamming into him, his whole body straining as they fucked, pressing as far into Joey as he could possibly go.

Dirk shouted as he came, loud and reckless, echoing off the walls and taking forever to die down. It was that sound, more than the constant stimulation of his prostate, more than the stroking of his cock, that made Joey come. He let out a gasp and a moan as he felt the hot fluid flood over his fingertips and fall onto the rough carpet.

The moment he came down from the high of his orgasm, Joey kept waiting for Dirk to pull away, to yank him up or maybe tell him to put his clothes on, but as Dirk's softening cock pulled gently out of his ass he let his arms wrap around Joey's waist, lifting him up and into a gentle embrace. "That was great," whispered Dirk into his hair.

Joey just kissed his shoulder speechlessly. Dirk held him for a long time, then let go and stripped the condom off himself, wrapping it in kleenex and tossing it in the trash. He smiled at Joey, then the smile changed into a grin. "That's two," he said, winking. "Want to try for three?"

"Only if I get to be on top," shot Joey back at him. Even with the smartass comment--or maybe because of it--the moment was perfect. Joey's grin matched Dirk's as they unsteadily got to their feet.

"In that case," said Dirk, beginning to search for his clothing. "I'm taking you home with me. Grab your stuff, kid, it's gonna be a long night."