Touch-Starved

"Doesn't it get to you?" he asks.

"The jump scares? No, not really. Sometimes, I suppose, but they have to be unexpected."

"Pah," says April, and Rice laughs. He's dragging his nails slowly down and then slowly up the line of his spine in a way that makes Rice's eyes cross.

They go to bed fucking early, before it's even ten, and Rice wants to complain but April's bed is comfortable and because he's just been lying there getting stroked like a fucking puppy all evening, he's actually tired.

December purrs next to his head and even though they don't spoon or anything, April's facing him as he sleeps, snoring, his knees touching Rice's, their feet entangled.

Rice sleeps better than he can believe.

He wakes up early, wakes up slowly, blearily, realising his body is fucking wrapped around someone else's and his cock is hard in his boxers, rubbing up against the plump heat of someone's arse.

He comes to slowly, reality sinking in hot and soothing, like bathwater.

This is Sebastian April in his arms.

It's Sebastian April's flat belly that Rice's hand is splayed over, shoved up under his shirt, Sebastian April who's still snoring, mouth ajar, April's plump arse that Rice is rubbing up against. His hips are just kind of moving on their own, a gentle rock forward, and he grunts at the pressure even as he slowly extricates himself, feeling over-excited, embarrassed, so fucking horny.

The blankets have been kicked off, and April's PJs have ridden halfway down his arse.

Rice's mouth fucking waters, seeing it -- it's no bigger than the rest of him, but it's probably the only place on April's skinny body where there's some real fucking fat, two perfect little globes, tiny fucking handfuls that Rice hovers his hands over, amazed at the difference in size.

He put his hands on April's bare skin, thrills, can't believe that he's doing this, touching April's arse where the waistband comes down and shows the top of his crack, the swell there.

Holding his breath, he pushes April's cheeks apart, and stares down at his hole.

It's --

Fuck, but it's small, which makes sense, just like the rest of him, a duskier brown than the light tan of the skin around it, looks... tight. Rice can't even imagine how tight.

April is still snoring, and Rice slowly grips at the waistband of his trousers, his thumbs sliding underneath it.

He doesn't wake up, keeps breathing at the same rhythm, and Rice wonders if he'll wake up as Rice fully pushes them down, just so he can see April's whole arse, just so he can see it.

Put his hands on it, feel how fucking small it is, squeeze it, feel the give.

Rice swallows, and he just, he just wants to try it. Just wants to rest himself there, it's not like he wants to fuck into him or try to, even, he just wants to see what it would feel like, his cock between April's arsecheeks.

He shifts closer, dragging down his borrowed boxers so that they're under his balls, cock sticking out, already ready with the fucking morning, and he parts April's cheeks again, sliding himself between them.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It's so hot he can't stand it, the pressure of April's arsecheeks either side of his cock, the heat of his body, the slight moisture of his skin from sweating in the night, and when Rice releases his grip on April's cheeks and lets them tighten in around him, he moans.

There's wetness at the tip of his cock, and he has to bite back a whimper as he slowly rocks his hips forward, into that warm channel between April's buttocks, and he doesn't push in but the head of his cock nudges against April's hole and he whimpers despite himself. He tries to be quiet, tries not to gasp, not to moan, keeps holding his fucking breath as he rocks between April's cheeks, feels him, feels how warm he is and how tight it feels and how wet and slippery it gets -- if this is just his cheeks, what's the inside like?

He feels dizzy just imagining it, the hot, tight, velvety grip of April's arse around his cock, so much tighter than anything he's ever felt, so much better than his fist, and his cock gives a jerk, sputters wetly. He could come like this, he thinks.

"Arden," says April dryly, no longer snoring, sounding very sleepy but definitely awake and actually quite stern, and Rice whimpers again even though he's trying to hold it back. "Care to explain to me what you're doing?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, you're so fucking -- Fuck, I need it, please, please -- "

His hips are stuttering between April's cheeks, and there's wet, slick noises whenever his hips jump forward because Rice's own cock has slicked the way, and when the head of it accidentally nudges April's hole again, prods against the tight muscle, April's breathless laugh as a moan to it.

"Oh, fuck, can I?" Rice almost fucking whines, hearing how pathetic he sounds and somehow unable to care, his head spinning, empty of anything except how April's cheeks feel to his cock, April's body, April's hole. "Can I, can I, please? Please, I'm sorry, fuck, I want it so badly, Sebastian -- "

"Oh, do you?" asks April mockingly, and it's so excruciatingly hot it makes his skin burn. "Do you want it, Arden?"

Rice clenches his teeth, wants to be angry, wants to point out exactly who has the power between them except he knows it's April and the entire world is just... him.

His cock is so slick he can't stand it, and he's making wet, desperate noises as he grinds it between April's cheeks, prods against his hole almost but not quite deliberately, nudges against the rim and feels it give a little, and this time, April moans.

"Just -- Can I just try the tip?" begs Rice. "Please, just the head? I just want to -- "

April does something, clenches or moves his hips back or something, and everything goes tight and Rice grips at him harder, tightly grasps at his middle, shoves harder against his arse.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" asks April breathlessly. "Are you enjoying my arse?"

"Ye -- yeah," Rice moans, breaths hiccoughing and desperate, hips moving of their own accord now, every nudge against April's perfect little hole and its promised vice grip sending thrums and thrills of pleasure around his head, the rest of his cock slickly enveloped.

"Yeah?" asks April. "Yes, you're going to come, just like that, fucking between my cheeks because you couldn't stand to wait, because you just needed it? Try to cram the tip of it in, paint my insides white?"

His head is fucking spinning. "Yeah," he chokes out. "Yea -- "

April moves so fucking fast he can't even register it, and the grip around the base of his cock actually fucking hurts, his balls tightening up and then suddenly made to back the fuck down. He groans out a wordless protest, confused, disoriented, ruined.

April is staring up at him, his lips smiling but his eyes fucking hard as he keeps that horrible grip around the base of his prick, and Rice tries to move, tries to lean away and gets a sharp smack on the thigh for his trouble, making him jump and let out a whine.

"Sebastian," he says desperately, "Sebastian, I was about to -- "

"I know precisely what you were about to do, and indeed, what you were doing," says April coolly. "Selfish prick you were being, too -- where's your manners, hm?I don't recall allowing you the privilege."

"I just -- "

"No just," says April, and finally lets his cock go. It's still hard, throbbing, but he doesn't dare touch it. "If either of us is to use the other as a fucktoy, Arden, I can assure you it will not be that way around. If you were anybody else, I'd be putting a belt to your arse right about now."

Rice's cock jumps at that for reasons he can't quite define even though the idea of being belted fucking terrifies him -- maybe because the idea terrifies him? -- and he watches powerlessly as April gets up.

"I'm sorry," he moans. "I'm sorry, I'm -- "

"Quite forgiven," says April, and he does look more amused than angry. "But for your punishment, you won't be coming this morning. Cold water when you shower -- if you try to touch yourself before we go, I'll know."

His gaze lands on Rice, and there's such intensity in it that he feels like he's been shocked. He believes him. Right to his core, he believes him.

"You don't get to decide that," he says, or tries to say, but it comes out quiet and kind of nervous, and April arches one eyebrow.

"Oh, someone's feeling brave this morning," he says in a soft, deliberate way, and Rice shudders at the way that tone affects him. As he's swallowing, April says, "Put it this way -- if you get yourself off this morning, Arden, that's the last time your cock and I will ever come into contact. You will neither fuck me nor be fucked by me."

Rice's breath catches in his throat.

"Mm, that's what I thought."

* * *

It's the slowest day at work he's ever had.

It's fucking painful is what it is, drives him absolutely crazy to sit at his PC and try to check over graphics coding while April is sitting at his desk with one pencil behind his ear and another tapping his lips as he works.

He moves back and forth in his seat, rocking one way and then the other as he goes between his sketchbook and whatever he's working on in CAD, his lips loosely pressed together.

"Hey, Arden," whispers one of the receptionists, and Rice glances up at her.

"Uh, you and Sebastian, um, Mr April," she says, and Rice tries not to laugh. No one ever calls him Mr, and he and April are technically the same rank. "You're friends, right?"

"Uh huh. Why, you want to get him something for his birthday?"

"Oh, ha, no, um, is he -- is he single?"

How old is she, twenty-five, twenty-seven? Younger than they are, but not super young. Still though. "Listen," he says, "April's kind of a stickler. Guy doesn't go out with anyone from work."

"Oh," she says, blushes, nods.

After she's gone, April says, "Aren't you a heartbreaker."

"Eavesdropper. How the fuck do you hear from all the way over there?"

"A side-effect of being a runt with a cane is one becomes preternaturally able to make out people's whispering. A sort of defensive mechanism, if you will."

"Asshole."

"Liar," says April, but he's smirking.

"Can I, uh -- can I come around to yours tonight? Again?"

"If you like," says April.

"And we can fuck?"

April turns in his chair, looking at him flatly, although he looks like he's trying not to laugh. "I can hear you whisper," he says. "Everyone can hear you yell."

"I'm not fucking yelling."

"You're projecting your voice," says April mildly. "People can and will hear you."

Rice bites the inside of his lip, and April smiles at him, tilting his head, the expression indulgent.

"Will you?" he asks.

"I should tell you no," murmurs April, standing to his feet and coming over, one hand resting on his cane, the other sliding to rest on the back of Rice's neck, thumb resting at his nape. Rice itches to lean his face into April's side, to bury his face against the wool he's wearing.

"I should tell you no," April repeats, "tell you to take a few days to think it through, but this morning you rather teased me. All I've been able to think of Is folding you up and fucking you until I have you sobbing."

Rice's mouth is dry, and he stares helplessly up at April's face. April pats the side of his cheek.

"Go home first," he says smoothly. "Get a change of clothes, scrub that arse of yours clean, and then, yes, come to mine, and I'll show you what makes me so... popular."

He arrives at April's door with takeaway Chinese, and they sit on the sofa to eat -- April leans back against the arms of the sofa and throws his legs over Rice's lap, and Rice thrills at it, thrills and feels insane over it, over the weight of his calves, his feet.

How is it that it feels so intimate and so overwhelming when it's as casual as this, April eating wontons and idly watching Stargate, his feet a warm and comfortable weight on Rice's thighs?

"Have you been with a lot of virgins?"

"A few, here and there," says April. "More than I'm explicitly aware of, I'm sure -- I don't tend to conduct an experience survey before I go along with anybody."

Rice chews on a spring roll, and asks, "What if I'm not gay?"

"What if you're not?"

"I mean, what if you're right, and I'm not actually attracted to you." He's trying not to think about April's legs, because thinking about April's legs ultimately means thinking about his middle, which means thinking about his cock.

"Well, you won't die for having had sex with me," says April. "If you find you don't want to have sex again, we simply won't. If you don't enjoy anal, we simply won't have anal sex again. If you don't like anything at all, you can tell me, and we won't do it again."

"And if I want to fuck women? Just -- just women?"

"You can fuck women," says April. "I've never stopped you from fucking women before. I'm willing to out with you and be your wingman, so to speak."

"And fuck a woman together?"

April's gaze shifts from Teal'c on the TV to Rice, stares at him for a second, and then he laughs, low and chuckling and unspeakable in a way that goes straight to Rice's cock.

"Let's walk before we can run, shall we?"

"What would you know about running?"

"I've seen it on TV."

He doesn't know when it happens, but it's sometime after they finish eating that April goes from his feet being in Rice's lap to his whole body, sitting his legs to the side and his arse on Rice's thigh, and his lips are on Rice's.

"Mm, no, close your mouth a bit."

Rice tries to do it, tries to close his mouth more as they keep going, lips smacking against one another in a way that makes his mouth tingle, makes his face feel hot.

"There you are, good boy," murmurs April. "Tilt your head a bit more... there."

April is touching him through his trousers, sliding the heel of his hand over his cock through them, squeezing it through the fabric as he keeps coaching Rice through kisses, nips at his lower lip and makes Rice gasp out loud.

"So sensitive," April purrs, drags his teeth over Rice's lower lip and then traces over it with his tongue, and Rice whines despite himself, making April laugh, squeezing his cock tighter. "I'm not one for kissing, but you're rather fun."

"Huh?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't like kissing?"

"Mm, not on the mouth, not particularly," says April, and he starts trailing kisses up Rice's jaw, nips at his neck, under his ear, and Rice moans, rolling his hips up and into him. "You like it, don't you?"

"Yeah, ye -- yeah, more, please -- "

"Please, he says," purrs April, letting go of Rice's cock to start unbuttoning his shirt. "So polite, such an eager thing, aren't you? I could have you so well-trained..."

"Yeah, yeah, please, Sebastian -- "

"Mm, we'll see," April murmurs. "Let's to bed."

Rice lifts him clean off the ground and April lets out a sharp sound of surprise, laughing and squirming in Rice's arms as they move down the corridor and into the other room, almost tosses April on the bed because he's so desperate to scramble out of his clothes.

He falls back on the bed once his clothes are off, and April is on top of him, crowding him back against the pillows stacked by the headboard, sinking into them -- and then April's mouth closes around one of his nipples and he yells.

April doesn't let up.

No one's ever done this before, not to him, not to any man he's ever heard of, and Rice lets out a sharp noise, gripping at the blankets underneath them as he leans back into them, and April sucks hard, laves his tongue around the tip of Rice's nipple then gets it between his teeth.

He squeaks, the noise fucking humiliating and way too goddamn high, and April doesn't even bite down that hard, just holds his nipple between his teeth and tugs on it, worries a little, so that his whole fucking tit throbs and feels hot and sensitive.

When he lowers his mouth again, over the actual meat of his pec, he really does fucking bite, and Rice chokes out a noise and arches off the bed as he feels April's teeth dig in, then catch again as he sucks a fucking hickey into place.

Before he starts on the other one, he leans back, puts his lips into an O, and blows cool hair over his pec where it's hot and swollen with blood and wet with spit, and it's so cold that he feels his nipple stiffen just like that, making him whine.

"Fuck, fuck, Sebastian -- "

"Gorgeous, these little tis of yours," April pronounces like he's complimenting the body of a fine wine. "I begin to understand the appeal you find in people's breasts, sweetheart."

His cock is hard and leaking, and it jerks when April latches onto the other side.

He never knew his nipples could be so sensitive, that there could be so much radiating heat and sensation coming out from his chest, how April could worship his chest so utterly and leave him feeling dazed and oversensitive, pecs throbbing.

"Don't -- "

"Don't?" April asks, looks up at Rice's face, his mouth still in line with his chest, breath hot against the wet skin. There are bruises and bite marks blossoming on them, teeth imprints and hickeys surrounding them in a cascade of stars.

"Don't stop," he whispers.

April sucks hard, pulling at his other nipple with his fingers, twisting in a way that makes sparks fly up up on his spine, his cock jerking between them.

"Quite gorgeous," says April, sitting back on his knees, and he weighs Rice's pecs in his palms, cupping them from underneath.

He feels dizzy in the aftermath of it -- he hasn't come, doesn't think he could from this, but he feels dizzy and just a little fuzzy, his chest throbbing with overlapping sensations.

April smiles at him as he kneels between his legs and uncaps a bottle of lube.

It's not as cold as he expects, warmed by his fingers, and he heaves in a hitching lungful of air as April slides a finger into him, warn and weird and -- and good.

"Never had a prostate exam?"

"It doesn't normally feel like that," Rice grunts, and April laughs.

"Once you're aroused, your prostate swells too," he says mildly. "All this, around here..." Hr rubs with his finger, not hard, but smoothly and in a way that makes him groan, his cock bouncing as he clenches down. "All that blood flow sensitises the area."

"So if I had a boner to go to the doctor it wouldn't feel as bad?"

"For you, or your doctor?" asks April, and the next finger feels strange going in -- he waits for Rice to relax, or maybe to clench down, he doesn't even know, but it slides right into him. He's not as tight as he expected he might be -- this is... good. Easy. "Let me know if there's any burning or discomfort, alright?"

"Isn't that normal?"

"Sure, but it's not to everybody's taste," murmurs April, and he makes some kind of circle motion around the muscle of his rim that makes him stretch but it's easy, satisfying, good. "You can tap out at any time, alright?"

"Now?" asks Rice. "You gonna -- Now? Please?"

April laughs, and there's more now, another finger, a stretch that makes Rice's eyes flutter closed as April presses down on the muscle. "No burning?"

"Stretching," says Rice. "Pressure. I feel -- full. Kind of like I need to... But it's weird, it's nice, it's good."

"Good lad," murmurs April. "There's a boy." He laughs at the jerk of Rice's cock in reply.

April puts on a condom, and Rice stares at it as he slides it on, so easy, so well-practised. He pushes Rice's knees apart, pushes them up a bit, toward his shoulders, folds him up, and then he's sinking into him and it's so much bigger than fingers, thicker all the way around.

He blinks rapidly, trying to accustom to it, tipping his hips up and into April as April's cock sinks into him, a slow slide forward and fuck, fuck, that upward curve really is something, so he can feel it pressing up against him from the inside.