Un-Believable

I started this yesterday in class and hit the part where they were at the door when I went bright red and looked up... promptly meeting the eyes of my professor and being called upon to answer the question which had just been asked. Which I didn't have the answer to and the only word that kept popping into my mind was "smex"

So I finished writing this tonight instead of yesterday, as I had originally planned.

I've seen the evil look Jared gives Tristan many a times. It can be amusing, so long as you aren't on the recieving end of it. The sceen at the end is a little different from my usual. I didn't gloss over, that was what I got because apparently Tristan just wasn't there or something.

Read, Review and Enjoy.



Tristan woke the next morning, head mildly hurting but otherwise he was alright. Three beers couldn’t hurt him that much, despite him being such a lightweight. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up, wincing at the way the muscles down his back pulled in an annoyed fashion.

Jared was sitting up at his desk, netbook open and fingers skittering wildly across the keys. Tristan blinked his eyes to re-focus them and read a little on the screen. His eyes were good, he could see that far away, could read that far away. Jared was actually working on his fantasy work, at a ground eating pace.

Sliding out of bed, Tristan turned back and made the bed. He tugged the blankets up and smoothed them out, tucking each one back into place. Giving his pillow a little fluff, Tristan moved to Jared’s bed and did the same. It was a force of habit of his, to clean the room each morning. Plucking Jared’s dirty clothing off the floor, Tristan dropped them into the communal hamper and then laid out a pair of pyjamas for both Jared at himself.

A little dust across the top of the bookshelf and Tristan was done everything but the desk. The one Jared was working on, which was cleaned each Saturday because usually when Tristan woke up, Jared had just crawled into bed.

Tristan ran the duster over the keys of Jared’s netbook -while Jared’s fingers were still tapping out letters- then over the screen and across the rest of the desk. Jared stabbed at two of his buttons, the way he did whenever he unconsciously saved. Four or five times a page, that was how often Jared saved unconsciously.

“What are you doing?” Jared growled, keeping his face towards the screen but turning his glaring gray eyes up to Tristan. Grey eyes speckled with almost blue, that held keen intelligence and a quick wit that only came out when one got to know the young man enough for him to come out of his shell. The only change in the features were in the eyes. In normal people the lips would press, there might be a cheek twitch or the nostrils would flair.

Which made it all the more important that Tristan take a step back and remove himself from Jared’s space. Jared only looked so calm -yet so pissed- when he was thinking about bashing someone with a frying pan or the netbook itself. Throwing the netbook was reserved for special occasions, such as when Jared found out that someone was peering over his shoulder to steal his work…

“Dusting,” Tristan said innocently, holding up the duster to show what he meant, “you’re in the way.”

“Do not. Interrupt me when I’m writing!” Jared snapped, slapping the netbook closed. Tristan hadn’t even realised that Jared had been shutting down the computer. The brown haired young man yanked the USB drive out of the side of the netbook and began tucking everything away in his little travel case. The one that made him look a little douchey because it almost looked like a purse, “Why does everyone interrupt me when I am writing?”

“Because you’re always writing!” Tristan protested, “if I didn’t interrupt you, you’d forget to eat and then you’d die of starvation.”

“Well, then all your problems would be solved, wouldn’t they?” Jared shouted at Tristan, then shouldered his bag and walked around his immobilized roommate.

Tristan yanked himself out of his shock and spun as Jared opened the door. He slammed his hand on the door, forcing it closed and pinning Jared between it and himself. There was a long moment of silence as both men took in their positions. As soon as Jared realised where he was, what was going on, his body bloomed with heat, creeping up his back and down his legs.

Biting his tongue, Tristan slipped the strap over Jared’s shoulder and set the bag gently on the floor beside the door. Tristan’s breath hitched in his chest. He was in control of this situation and that was a bad thing, a very bad thing. He angled his hips away from Jared.

“That was not what I mean,” he murmured in Jared’s ear, feeling the smaller man shudder against the door. “The world would surely mourn the loss of one such as yourself.”

Jared turned in Tristan’s arms and swallowed, “Get away from me.”

“Excuse me?” Tristan asked, startled out of his fog.

“Just because we’re both gay and we happen to be roommates doesn’t mean we’re going to somehow magically end up together. A gay and a gay does not a porn make. Just like a heterosexual and a heterosexual does not make a married, happy couple. Get away from me. Three foot personal zone at all times. I’m not sleeping with you. I’m not your play thing and I don’t appreciate you pinning me to the door like I’m some conquest to be had,” the young man’s voice broke ever so slightly, “however you please.”

Tristan’s mind circled around to one point specifically in Jared’s argument, “you don’t believe in magic, therefore we won’t magically fall into bed with one another and I’m not saying I want you, I just happen to have you pinned to the door because you were kind of insinuating that you were having suicidal thoughts. And while you committing suicide would get me straight A’s for the rest of the semester, I don’t want you dead because it would be a hell of a mess to clean up and because you are actually a better writer than I am. When you write stuff that isn’t flat, boring and completely un-realistic.”

“You prick. One. I am not suicidal. Two. You’ve got a hard on, I can feel it-” at which point Tristan cleared his throat and moved his hips away from Jared, “and three, my work is not flat, boring and un-realistic. But yes. You are right, I am a better writer than you will ever be.”

“Am now.”

“Will ever be. There’s no such thing as latent talent and just because you can spin a tale or two to impress the Dean and the professors does not mean that you will ever succeed as an author.”

“There may be no such thing as latent writing talent, but story tellers are born, not made.”

“What are you saying, that you have more imagination than I do?”

“Damn rights I do, you don’t even entirely believe in imagination! You convinced your father it doesn’t exist!”

“If you’ve got such a vivid imagination, why don’t you just go fuck yourself?”

“Because I’d rather fuck you.”

Damn. Tristan’s eyes closed and he fought with his emotions for a moment. That wasn’t supposed to come out, and certainly not the way it had. Now, not only was he the bad writer, he was the pervy roommate.

Lips met his for the briefest moments. In confusion, Tristan opened his eyes as Jared squeaked and pressed his back against the door. Little cheeks bright red, Jared looked away and down, fingers wringing together. Teeth peeked over the bottom lip as Jared dragged them over the reddening flesh there nervously.

“I’m sorry. Is that an option?” Tristan asked, hunger for the taste of Jared driving him forward even as Jared laid hands against his chest firmly, “you and I. They say opposites make for a hot connection.”

“No. Us having sex isn’t an option, I’m not just going to hop into bed with you. This is a very bad idea and we would never be able to do more than have sex a few times and then never be able to meet one another’s eyes because we would be just so embarrassed of each other. And then the entire roommate situation would fall apart because one of us would be hostile or we’d just be… awkward.”

“You’re right, you’re absolutely right,” Tristan said, shrugging just slightly but unable to give Jared ground. In fact, he wanted to bat the hands away and advance. Wrap his arms around Jared and claim the younger man’s lips as his own, “this is a very bad idea and we’re just a little dazed from waking up suddenly and we’re not in the right state of mind. What are we even thinking, us? Touching? It’s just wrong. Plain-”

Jared practically leapt at him. Arms locked around Tristan’s neck and he stumbled backwards from the sudden weight of the other man. Their lips met, tongues tangled and all thought went out of Tristan’s head. He stumbled blindly backwards until the backs of his knees hit a bed and then they both just dropped back onto it. Jared groaned and pushed off of Tristan.

“This is a very bad idea,” Jared groaned.

Tristan pushed his hands up and under Jared’s t-shirt, fingers grazing over warm flesh, smooth skin. Over Jared’s head, the shirt went and was tossed to the side. He pulled his own shirt off before he drew Jared down with a hand tangled in the younger man’s hair. They kissed and touched, exploring one another’s bodies. So distracted, was he, that Tristan didn’t even notice when the last of their clothing had hit the floor.

He knew that he rolled on top. He knew that Jared mewled when that spot on his shoulder was nibbled and licked. That was about all he knew. He couldn’t figure out when he had dug out the bottle of lotion -that had been somewhere else in the room, surely- or how he had managed to prepare Jared without the younger man protesting violently. When had they adjusted to be fully on the bed? When had the curtains been drawn?

How dead would he be when Maggy found out?

That brought Tristan around. He stopped as he was preparing to thrust into the prepared, willing body beneath him. Only for a moment, though, and he managed to dismiss it entirely and capture Jared’s lips to wash away the tingling sensation in his face. Down his back. He thrust into Jared, excited by how the lithe body tensed beneath him, how Jared moaned in a higher pitch than was normal for the young man. The pace was slower than he would have liked, but deep. Pressure surrounded him yet Jared obviously enjoyed it.

With how Jared’s fingers were tangled in his hair and dragging down his back. Legs wrapped around his hips and back arching off the bed. Lips begging for more, head lifted off the bed, eager and needing the touch of Tristan’s lips. As he bent and captured Jared’s lips, Tristan knew he wouldn’t last. It had been too long since his last lay and Jared was so tight, so eager. It was overwhelming.

Whimpering suppressed by his lips, Tristan didn’t understand what he was meant until heat spread across his stomach. Tristan slammed into Jared, for once giving in to his urge and desire. Once, that was all he managed. Tristan groaned and stiffened, head bent and pressed against Jared’s shoulder.

He didn’t want to move. Not ever. He didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of this, to have to set up some kind of relationship or interaction with Jared when he wasn’t certain what he wanted yet.

Sighing, Tristan withdrew and collapsed to the side, head sitting on Jared’s shoulder.

“Tristan?”

He winced, knowing what was going to be said, knowing what was going to happen now.

Jared swallowed loudly, nervous, “weren’t you supposed to be at work an hour ago?”

“Shiiiitttt,” Tristan fell out of the bed in his haste. He was screwed, so very. Very. Screwed.


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