Sleepless in New Orleans

Nonetheless, he hissed "Deeper" in a mix of a moan and a command.

Complying, Atticus slid further inside Trent at a steady rhythm, then removed his right hand from Trent's hip. Before Trent could register that, he gasped when he felt the hand at the head of his cock. A shiver shot through Trent's body as Atticus, whose breathing was growing shallower, started to slowly stroke him up and down.

"H-harder," Trent spat through gritted teeth. "Please...I need you to do this..."

The hold on Trent became faster, rougher, as did the rhythm. A shaky whimper escaped Trent's lips; his nerves - inside and out, from his toes to the top of his head - were on fire in the best possible way. Every thought in his head was more like faint fog.

"I need this..."

Atticus, still inside of him, bent forward and lovingly kissed his back. "I know you do," He whispered softly.

"I need you..." Trent said low, like he was almost afraid to say it or that Atticus would hear it. "I need you..."

"I know you do..."

Suddenly, the breath in Trent's throat became stuck and his eyes shot open. Then almost violently, a cry erupted from his lips. Electricity and heat radiated from every inch of his body, and he felt like he had just gone supernova. He shuddered repeatedly as the familiar white hot fluid hit the sheet beneath him, Atticus still thrusting inside of him - clearly not finished.

Atticus removed his hand - covered in white - and put both hands around Trent's hips again and thrusted. "I'm almost- alm-"

He inhaled sharply, and his legs convulsed behind Trent. Then, Trent yelped as the same heat shot through him like a bullet through the chest. Atticus' legs convulsed again, until he finally let out a sigh; his thighs relaxed, and his quick breaths joined Trent's in a heavy unison.

They were dead silent for what was between an eternity or a few seconds, but to Trent it felt like both. Then Atticus, practically out of breath, piped up with, "Are you alright?"

"Um, yeah," Said Trent, slowly coming back to reality. Carefully, he felt Atticus exit him. When he finished, Trent let his arms give out and crashed onto the mattress. He turned around onto his back and stared at the ceiling, as Atticus layed himself next to him.

Instead of letting the silence return, Trent glanced at Atticus, and said the first thing that came to his mind: "For a guy whose never fucked other guys, you're pretty good at doing that."

Atticus said only a small "Oh" and buried his face in his hands. "I, erm, I watch a lot of porn."

That made Trent laugh way more than he thought it would, probably more than he had in a while. He took Atticus' hand and traced the sides with his finger. In turn, Atticus pulled him into his arms and smoothed his hair back.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

That gave Trent pause; he really wasn't sure how he felt just then. The reality of what just happened was setting in, and so was the realization that his relationship with Atticus had been permanently changed, and he wasn't sure what that would mean in the future, whether in twenty minutes or twenty years from now...but in the present, lying down with him, that felt...

"I feel safe," He said finally.

"Huh?"

Suddenly feeling nothing but self conscious, Trent shook his head. "That was a stupid thing to say, never mind."

"No it wasn't," Atticus replied without a hint of dishonesty. "I'm glad you feel that way." He turned his head towards Trent. "That's really all I want."

"Really?"

"Yes."

They lied down together, hands held in silence. And gradually Trent's eyelids started to get heavier and heavier, until suddenly his consciousness was a void.

He gladly welcomed it.

--

There was a phone ringing.

Trent sleepily shrugged it off and put his arm across Atticus' chest. Surely it would stop ringing soon.

Which it did. Only to start ringing again not even a minute later.

Again, Trent let it ring.

And again, it returned with a goddamn vengeance.

Finally, Atticus woke up abruptly next to him. He rubbed his eyelids then muttered "Fuck" as he shuffled off the bed and out of the room. Trent groaned and glanced at the digital alarm clock (apparently the 'alarm' part wasn't currently in use), then nearly had a heart attack.

The clock read '1:38 PM'.

Trent could do nothing but lie back down. Holy fuck, he hadn't slept in that much since he was working on The Downward Spiral. How long were they up for?

In the kitchen, Atticus picked up the phone. "Hel-" Whoever he was speaking to on the other line must have interrupted him. Then he turned apologetic. "Sorry, sorry! Trent and I were, um, we were doing a...side project. Yes. I'm being totally honest."

Trent snickered; he was such a bad liar.

Atticus continued on the phone. "Uh-huh...yes...we'll be there in an hour and a half..." He hung up the phone, and then - posture slouched - returned to the bedroom. "That was Maynard, he and everyone else are at the studio. Waiting for us."

Trent motioned for him to come back to bed. "Fuck them, they can wait a little longer." When Atticus sat himself down on the mattress, Trent grabbed his arm, pulled him down and kissed him. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Last night." Trent smiled to himself. "And for the sleep, I guess."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," Said Trent. He kissed Atticus again, and then put his head onto the other's chest. "Do you wanna, um, come over to my place?" He quickly added, "Not to fuck, probably, but do you just, I don't know, wanna hang out or do something?"

His face breaking into a smile, Atticus nodded. "Am I going to have to sleep on your couch for part of it?"