Un-Believable

... Written in less than an hour, but it is a little short. I was working on Adaptation and things went the wrong way and I had to walk away because I was uncomfortable. And this was sort of the original plan, but it was meant to be longer. Ah, well.

Bonus cookie to anyone who guesses at what's actually going on, in the background, I mean. There is something happening there and no one's even made comment on it! Well, besides Ghost but I only heard that one time...

Read, Review and Enjoy.




Jared sat up in the room, waiting for Tristan to come back. He couldn’t write, couldn’t focus on what he had to write. Then when he had managed to start writing something, it just went all funny. Like the characters thought that it would be amusing if they rehashed conversations and problems he had had as a child. Highly amusing, hahaha. He was in control of his characters, however. Unlike Tristan who allowed them to go about willy-nilly as if they had minds of their own or something.

So he had deleted the entire scene and written part of it properly, then sat down on his bed and just stared at the wall. One plus one was two, two plus two was one. That wall was awfully bare and they had been in the room for six months, almost seven, and neither of them had bothered to put anything up on the walls. Perhaps a poster or an inspirational photograph from one of those magazines. Oh, the window was dirty. That needed a wash. Which reminded him, the closet door wasn’t closing all the way. Too much stuff in there, or just a bad connection between doorframe and door?

These were the thoughts that ran through Jared’s head as the sun set and it went from evening to night time. He didn’t feel like eating, the pit of his stomach was filled with worry and the grumbling of bad stuff. Like it was filled with cotton and there was no room for anything else.

It was after eleven when he heard the key turn in the lock. Saturday nights the pub closed at ten, an early time for a pub, but a late time for a campus pub. Some odd law only allowed the pubs to be open until ten, instead of the regular two am, while all manner of coffee shops could be open twenty-four hours a day. This also meant that most creative writing majors were stumbling to bed at just about that time, having been turned out of the coffee shops because. Well. Who wanted a drunk writer sitting at the table snarling at things that weren’t there while getting a caffeine high from three shots of espresso?

Tristan entered the room and closed the door before he flicked on the overhead light and made Jared cringe and make a sound of displeasure as the light burned his eyes.

Yes. He had been sitting in the dark. Totally un-creepy of him, but he had just been sitting there and as he sat, his eyes kind of adjusted. Then he was just too lazy to get up and flick on the switch so he had left it off.

“Uhm… hi,” Tristan muttered, dropping his keys onto Jared’s desk, “look, Jared. I. Think we should talk.”

“Alright,” Jared said, turning his attention to the bare wall across from him. There was a smudge on the wall, just below the odd little pockmark in the pain, as if the person who had painted the walls had carelessly dragged a finger through the still wet coat.

“Look, we. We had sex, and that’s great and all but that doesn’t mean that I have to come home on time or something. I mean, I work and when I work, sometimes I have to work over time and that means that at random I’ll be late coming back to the room. That doesn’t mean that you have to wait up in the dark for me-”

“What?” Jared pulled suddenly from his daze, “waiting in the dark… no! No, I wasn’t waiting for you, per say, I was just. Sitting in the dark, staring at the wall. I’m having issues writing and so I sat down to think and time kind of slipped by on me. I’m not waiting up in the dark for the late lover to come home because he said he’d be home at such and such a time. No. No. I’m not crazy. Well, maybe just a little. But not really.”

Tristan sighed and settled on the bed beside Jared, “so we had sex. That doesn’t mean much to our generation. People our age have more sexual partners than eyelashes most of the time. We just. Happened to have sex.”

“Hot sex.” Jared said quietly.

“Yes,” Tristan conceded, “we had random sex. On my bed-”

“I changed the sheets,” Jared said informatively, “didn’t think you’d want to sleep in that.”

“And you changed- wait, you changed my sheets? You never do anything like that.”

“I cleaned up my own puke when I got so drunk that I threw up. Same deal, except different fluids,” Jared muttered with a shrug, “least I could do, since it was the best sex I ever had.”

“Only sex you ever had,” Tristan corrected.

“True.”

“Anyways. Just because we had sex doesn’t mean that we have to do anything. Yes, we can pursue a relationship because obviously we meet one of the requirements for a relationship. There’s some kind of a connection. But there are other facts to consider. You don’t believe in writer’s block, I do. In our line of work, that’s like I believe in God and you are an atheist. Or. You are dirty and I am a clean freak.”

“I’m not that bad, I don’t know what you’re complaining about?”

“Complaining about? The writing until six in the morning when I’m a light sleeper, the way you toss your laundry wherever you please. I’m absolutely convinced that if we had a dog, you’d end up killing it somehow.”

“Would not, I love animals!”

“Not to mention the fact that whenever we’re in a class together, you tell everyone in the class what I believe when it comes to writing, you broadcast my dabbling in literary theory and criticism about the room as if it were the topic of the weather. When I met your mother for the first time, you introduced me as the roommate and then proceeded to ignore me every time I talked. The last time I had a reading, you attended only so that you could shred my work in a public manner.”

Jared had no idea what it was about Tristan. When he talked that way, all Jared could think about was the way Tristan’s lips formed the words, the way animation that was in Tristan’s eyes as he spoke, the way the older man gestured erratically about him, so engaged and heated. So alive.

He leaned in as Tristan continued on, watching those lips. He watched and watched, and then, unable to contain himself any longer, pressed his lips against Tristan’s. The kiss was lingering. Tristan made a startled sound and yet allowed it. Jared pressed on, shifting ever closer to Tristan. A hand wrapped around his neck, another about his torso.

The calm demeanour only melted with Tristan was shouting and going on about how Jared had aggravated him. Those placid features became animated and the constant calm disappeared.

Their tongues tangled and Jared realised that it was happening again. Just as it had before, all thought was out of his head and he didn’t think about the time or the fact that this was likely not the best idea. Their clothing was tossed to the side and that toned body was pressing against him. Heated flesh reminded him that this was oh so real and that it was not just another fantasy. Tristan’s fingers caressed down his sides, firm but gentle as they spread his legs.

Those lips moved to Jared’s neck, hands pressed him into the bed and a voice grumbled, rumbled through the chest. Jared didn’t pay attention to the words coming out of the mouth, instead focusing all that he could on the sensation of the moment.

Though he suspected that Tristan said something like, “this is a very bad idea.”

He struggled for a moment at the intrusion of Tristan’s fingers, but recalling how this all went earlier, he made himself relax. Jared panted out, a small sound escaping his throat as Tristan brushed that place that had managed to make him cringe with pleasure and beg for more. Another finger was added and Jared mewled, shuddering out his breath when he had the chance, gasping it back in as Tristan caught flesh between his teeth.

Tristan tormented him for so long, caressing and tasting, nibbling here and there. Tormented Jared until he thought that he couldn’t take it any longer. Until he begged for something more. He wanted it so badly that the fast thrust confused him, made him moan even though it caused pain. Legs locking around Tristan, heels digging into some kind of flesh.

The pace was nothing like the morning. It was not slow and careful, it was hard and fast. Tristan groaned and breathed heavily over him, one hand pressed hard into the bed to keep his weight up. Even as Jared focused on these facts he realised and ever growing problem.

He liked it rough better than he liked it slow.

Jared cried out as he came, nails digging into Tristan’s shoulders, sweat clinging to every bit of his flesh. Tristan groaned and collapsed against Jared. They lay like that for a very long time, both breathing heavily. Jared wondered if he’d be able to walk the next morning, given the throb that was already starting.

Tristan pushed off of him and rolled to the side, making a sound at the back of his throat, one that Jared couldn’t entirely translate as meaning anything in particular.

They lay there, like that, staring up at the ceiling. Jared focused on the light and decided it was annoying him. He stood up and shuffled to the door, flicking off the light. Finding his way back to bed in the dark was a bit of a problem, given the fact that their clothing kept trying to trip him. Crawling back into bed, Jared groaned.

Only to be pulled into those strong arms, to have a chin rested gently just above his head.

“That was a very. Very bad idea,” Tristan murmured in the dark, “and now I am very, very tired.”

Sleep was already pulling him under. Jared forced the fogginess out of his head and pushed into Tristan, accepting the warmth there and enjoying the attention of another person.

“Not a bad idea, wasn’t even an idea,” Jared grumbled back, “know what’s an idea? Sleeping.”

“Yes, a very good idea.”

.