by Emrys Apollo
“Always,” Clive breathes, one hand firmly planted in Robin’s hair.
“You’ll have to tell me how,” Robin murmurs, and Clive realizes for the first time that he’s not the only one who’s aroused.
“You want to fuck me?” He can hear the desperation in his own voice, the hopefulness, and it’s almost pathetic, but he doesn’t care. It’s Robin. This is the stuff of dreams. He’ll be damned if he lets this opportunity slip. He doesn’t care, about Robin’s girlfriend. He doesn’t care about Jarrod, even, though there’s a small voice whispering protests, whispering his name in the back of Clive’s head.
Robin nods. “More than anything, Cli. I didn’t know - how could I have known? You’re my best friend, and I want to try, love, please - “
Clive pulls him in for another kiss before pushing him away and standing up. He holds out his hand. “Come to bed with me, Bartholomew. Please. I’ve waited so long for you.”
Robin takes his hand, rising to his feet, too, and kissing Clive again. He tastes incredible, the way he uses his tongue - it’s enough to make Clive’s head spin.
He’s reluctant to part from him, so he just wraps his arms around Robin and walks them backwards until Robin clutches him closer with an odd urgency to it, and Clive knows they’re at the stairs. “Come up to bed,” he says softly, pushing his sweats down to his ankles and stepping out of them, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and looking at Robin in the way he would’ve looked at Jarrod if he’d wanted to seduce him.
It works on Robin, too, and he tugs off his shirt, photoshoot-ready even with his mussed hair and flat, strong stomach rippling with muscles that were so familiar, Clive had had them memorized for years.
They manage to get up the stairs without falling or breaking any bones, somehow, and they’re in Clive’s room, in front of his queen bed - so much larger than Jarrod’s little single one, a voice whispers to him.
“I don’t know how,” Robin murmurs.
“I’ll show you,” Clive whispers, kissing him again, sliding Robin’s sweats to the floor and then pulling his briefs down too, as well as his own.
He sinks to his knees, stroking Robin’s cock reverently before he wraps his lips around it and lets out a pleased hum, closing his eyes as he savors the taste he’d wondered about for so many years. He sinks down lower, breathing carefully through his nose.
I’ve never given a blowjob before, he thinks to himself, remembering Jarrod’s voice on the phone for a fraction of a second and wondering if he’s doing it right, but the way Robin looks is encouraging, breathing unsteady and whispering praise. He pulls away and guides him so he’s sitting on the bed (Clive’s bed, a triumphant, disbelieving voice reminds him in his head).
He kneels between Robin’s knees. “I haven’t ever done this before,” he confesses softly, “so be gentle with me, okay?”
Robin nods, a wave of tenderness flooding his eyes. Clive leans down and presses a kiss to the inner side of his thigh before wrapping his lips around him again. He takes a deep breath and pulls Robin’s hands into his hair, sinking lower and lower, until he’s gagging.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Robin whispers, “you’re doing brilliant, Cli, so good, you’re doing so well, we can work on it, okay? We’ll practice on each other, get better at it.” At first it’s like Clive’s underwater, so focused on his task he can barely hear him, but the words crash into him. We’ll practice on each other. Get better at it.
This wasn’t going to be a one-time thing. He uses his hand to stroke what he can’t manage to get into his mouth, savoring the way Robin moans and whimpers.
He pulls away. “Do you still want to fuck me, Robin?”
Bartholomew nods, looking a little dazed, and Clive grins, letting himself be pulled onto Robin’s lap, letting himself be kissed to within an inch of his life. He finally pulls himself apart from Robin, leaning over to dig through his nightstand for the lube.
“I’ve used a condom every single time I’ve been with anyone,” he mumbles to Robin’s shoulder, “but I want to feel you, love. Please. I’ve been waiting so long. Is - is that okay?”
Robin nods. “I don’t know how,” he says again, sounding slightly nervous.
“It’s just like anal with a girl,” Clive says reassuringly, “you need lube, you need to open me up. I can do it this time, if you want.”
Robin nods, and Clive expertly slicks his fingers and his entrance and slides a finger inside himself, gasping at the sensation. “You need two, at least,” Clive whispers, preparing to put another one in.
“Baby,” Robin says reverently, “can I do it?”
Clive nods. “Just use a lot, okay? I’m not wet down there like a girl would be.”
Robin nods and uses a generous amount on his fingers and on Clive’s entrance before he slides one finger in slowly and then pushes the second in beside it. It’s awkward for a moment, but he learns quickly, until he’s steadily finger-fucking Clive, scissoring his fingers until he opens up a little more.
“Bend them, inside me, just - just there, Robin, baby, well done!” Clive praises.
“Are you - you’re ready?” Robin asks softly, and Clive nods. Robin pulls his fingers out, looking a little reluctant, but Clive settles against the pillow and spreads his legs.
“Quite a bit of lube on your cock, babe, and then - then you’ll be ready. Slow at first, okay?”
You didn’t have to show Jarrod how, whispers that traitorous little voice. He just knew. He just knew how to make love to you.
Nobody knows their first time, he reminds himself, smiling up at Robin and moaning loudly as he slides in, almost achingly slowly. Clive lets out a strangled gasp as he bottoms out, finally pulling Robin down for another kiss.
“How does it feel, being inside me?” He asks Robin, holding him close for a second while he breathes through the feeling of being stretched.
“It’s - you’re incredible, Cli. Amazing. So tight around me, so hot - fuck - “ Robin’s breathing heavily already, pressing his lips to Clive’s throat.
“Please - I need you to move now, Robin. I’m begging you, I need you to fuck me now - “
Robin’s breath hitches at the words and he kisses him again as he pulls out a few inches and pushes back in, still gentle, as if he’s afraid Clive will break.
“Harder,” Clive demands, bucking his hips up to pull Robin in deeper.
“Yes, sir,” Robin mumbles, focusing on leaving a hickey at the base of Clive’s neck as he thrusts.
He gets the hang of it, eventually, and he’s fucking Clive steadily, leaning down to kiss him as if he just can’t get enough of the taste of his lips, and Clive’s in absolute heaven.
“I love you, I love you, I love you - “ he chants as he gets close to his orgasm, nearly screaming the words when he finally comes.
He wraps his arms around Robin, not bothering to clean himself up. He doesn’t even care that he'll have to wash the sheets. He just wants Robin to sleep next to him tonight and maybe fuck him again tomorrow morning.
Morning comes too soon.
CHAPTER 5
Clive wakes up next to Robin, warm and strong. He’s still a little sore, and it takes him a few seconds to register the ringing of the phone. Robin’s quicker on the uptake than he is, and he lunges for the phone, answering with a sleepy “hello?”
There’s a moment of quiet as Robin listens to the person on the other side speak, before he nudges Clive and hands it to him.
“It’s Jarrod,” he informs him, and Clive realizes that Robin doesn’t know that Jarrod is his.
Was his?
Clive takes the phone into his hand, clearing his throat a little before he speaks. “Hi, Jarr.”
“Did you two fall asleep on the sofa, or…?”
Clive pauses, long enough for Jarrod to figure it out. “We slept together,” he admits finally.
“Oh.” Jarrod inhales deeply. “That’s good, then. Congratulations.”
“Don’t hang up,” Cliv
e begs, “I’m sorry - you know how I feel about him, you’ve known from the beginning - “ Robin’s looking at him, wide-eyed and concerned, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder in comfort.
“It’s okay,” Jarrod says, and there’s something off about it. He sounds almost genuine, and Clive can’t quite put his finger on it, the thing that’s bothering him, until he realizes suddenly that it’s the smile. Jarrod’s voice is different when he smiles, the words change shape, and this is one of the few times he isn’t smiling over the phone. “It really is okay. Honestly. I knew he’d want you back, Cli. It’s kind of impossible not to want you back. And it’s good timing, really, I’m just starting a new rotation. I’m going to be so busy, I just wanted to call to let you know I probably wouldn’t be able to talk as much anyway.”
“Jarrod - “
“I hope you two are really happy together. I mean it. You deserve to be happy with the man you love, Clive Reynold.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” Clive confesses, recognizing the truth of it, stark in the warm light of day, “could I still call you?”
“Bit greedy, that, isn’t it?” Jarrod asks lightly. “Besides, you’ve got a stunning golden-blonde hockey player in your bed, you can talk to him just as well.”
“No, I mean it. I care about you. You’re my… friend. You’re the first person who really knew me. All of me. And I don’t want to lose that.”
There’s a long pause, as Jarrod doesn’t say anything and Clive just waits. “You can call,” Jarrod says finally, “I just can’t promise to answer. I’m starting a really busy rotation, irregular hours… And I’m going to need you to be a little more discreet if you leave messages. I’ve got company coming by and he might stay for a few days, and I don’t want him recognizing your voice.”
“Right.” Him. Him. It could be anyone, couldn’t it? A mate, a brother, a classmate or colleague or boyfriend - but probably not a boyfriend, because Jarrod wouldn’t cheat. Right? Of course not. He wasn’t callous enough to do it. He’s do the right thing, the way he always did the right thing and end it before - unless Clive had just done the right thing for him. Maybe the him that wasn’t a boyfriend now would become a boyfriend, now that Clive had slept with someone else first.
Something deflates inside him, some little bubble that had been there almost without him knowing. “Yeah, right, of course. I’ll keep that in mind if I phone you.”
“You can still write,” Jarrod says, voice a little softer, “if you really need to talk, you can still write me.”
Clive agrees, and Jarrod mentions reading up on some diseases and pathologies before his shift in a couple of hours and Clive obligingly says his goodbyes.
“That was him then?” Robin asks quietly. Clive nods and takes Robin’s hand in his own, playing with his fingers.
“It was after France. I was going mad. I just - I don’t know what I was thinking. Went out to a club.” Robin looks confused and Clive flushes a little and looks away. “A gay club,” he clarifies. “I went out to find a one-night stand. But he - Robin, if you’d met him, he’s just - he got under my skin and I begged him to take a chance on me.”
“You said he wasn’t your boyfriend,” Robin says quietly, “I don’t want to be the person you cheat with, Clive. Or the one you cheat on.”
“You’re not,” Clive says quietly, “we’ve only seen each other a few times. It’s mostly just phone calls. He’s a med student, I’m training - we’re too busy. He knew from day one that I was in love with someone else, and he knew who it was, too. He said right away that he wouldn’t be my boyfriend. Besides, I think he might like someone else, too. One of his friends from when he was a kid.”
Robin blinks and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Clive, you are the most complicated man I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re the only man I know who’s ever completely understood me,” Clive shoots back, heart starting to beat a little faster in his chest. “Jarrod - he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t. He - god, it was the weirdest fucking thing - but he’s kind of obsessed with you. Every time he phoned me he’d tell me to confess to you, said you’d take it well, and I just - I didn’t believe him. But it just got heavier and heavier and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you, and, you were so close - “
Robin’s eyes soften a little. “If you’re going to be mine, I’m not sharing you with him. You can speak on the phone, that’s fine, but I don’t want you sleeping with him, Clive.”
Clive nods. “I won’t. It’ll be easy not to. He’s all the way down in Birmingham - he was just looking for an excuse to cut me loose anyway.”
No he wasn’t, a voice whispers in his head, he was starting to like you, you twat. And now you’ve gone and ruined it.
“Come shower with me,” Robin says. Clive leans up and kisses him properly. Even his morning breath tastes good.
It must be love.
It must be.
It’s brilliant, with Robin. He’s gorgeous and he cooks and he knows Clive inside and out and he’s a quick learner, so pretty soon, he knows exactly how Clive likes to be fucked, how to make him scream in pleasure, and he knows what kind of kisses he needs after a loss and what kind he needs after a long day of traveling, and what kind of champagne-flavored kisses he likes after a win. They come home after training, sometimes back to Clive’s and sometimes over to Robin’s, too, though that’s rarer. Robin doesn’t mention Kendra, and Clive doesn’t ask. He tells himself that the breakup must not have gone well, and if that little voice in the back of his head whispers, he ignores it.
They’re in love, him and Robin, and it’s perfect. Every single thing is perfect. Brushing their teeth in the same sink, when they get dressed for the day and Robin ends up wearing one of Clive’s t-shirts and doesn’t change into his own instead.
Clive calls Jarrod, but just the once. He gets the machine, and wonders if Jarrod’s at work or just screening his calls.
Hi. It’s me. Call me if you can.
Jarrod calls him back once, while he’s at training, and leaves a polite message. Hi, Clive. I’m sorry to have missed your call. Hopefully we’ll find a time to talk. There’s male laughter in the room and it isn’t Jarrod’s, and whatever Clive had hoped would happen - daily phone calls with Jarrod followed by nightly hookups with Robin - never comes to pass.
Jarrod doesn’t leave any details about his schedule or when he’s free. He offers the bare minimum of pleasantries, and barely even asks to be called back, probably, Clive assumes, because he doesn’t want to be. Clive takes the hint and doesn’t phone him again.
He takes to writing little notes with things he wants to tell Jarrod, and tucks them into plain envelopes - no address, no stamp - that get tucked into his nightstand drawer and never looked at again.
It’s a couple months in with Robin when he gets a phone call and tells Clive abruptly that he’s got to go back to his own place for a few days. “I’ve got a leak in the bathroom, I’ve got to get it taken care of, make sure it’s fixed before the whole ceiling falls in.”
Clive understands. Of course he does. Shit happens, and so he kisses Robin once more and drags him off to the bedroom for a proper goodbye.
Training the next day is strange. Robin’s aloof, paler than usual, a little out of it, not as sharp. He still manages to score a goal, and when Clive runs over and throws himself at him to celebrate, he pats him awkwardly on the back and pulls away as soon as he can with a strained smile.
Clive understands, of course. He doesn’t want to out them by accident. It’s just hard, when he loves him so much. When he’s waited so long to be allowed to want him.
Robin follows him home that afternoon. They drive in separate cars, just so that Robin can have a hypothetical way to get home, even though he’s going to stay the night, of course.
They walk into the house, and Clive takes Robin’s hand in his own. “You were brilliant today, babe. Just - you’re just so incredible, I have no idea how I got so lucky with you - “
Robin pulls his hand away and swallows hard, avoiding Clive’s eyes as he walks into the kitchen and puts on the kettle to make tea.
“Sit down,” he says quietly.
Clive’s stomach sinks to his toes. The gay crisis. He’d been expecting this, if he was honest with himself.
“You don’t have to have a crisis over being with a man, you know. People have always done it. It’s a natural thing. Even if you haven’t done it before, some people don’t find out they’re gay until later in life - “
“I’m not gay,” Robin says abruptly.
“Well, what we’ve been doing has been pretty fucking gay, Robin, or do you not remember the parts where you’ve been fucking me? Having sex with a man, Robin. It’s a pretty gay thing to do.” There’s a bite to Clive’s voice, and he’s maybe a little angrier than he thought he’d be, given who Robin is to him. Robin flinches at the word gay every single time, and it just hurts.