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Your Static, Your Mess
by Nicola
Rating: R
Gabe pulled lightly at the leather cord that laced up William's pants. It was a worn-out piece of leather, soft and frayed from the hundreds of times that William had yanked his pants open and closed. If Gabe was honest, he'd been waiting for it to break for a long time; up there onstage, there would be a faint twang and William's pants would fall open.
Gabe smiled and tugged a little harder, pulling the leather free of its first hole. William arched his back in response, lifting his ass off the bed slightly. William's shirt had ridden up and Gabe placed his palm against William's bare stomach, rolling the heel of his hand against William's hipbone. William shuddered, tension suffusing just beneath the surface of his skin. Gabe unlaced a little further, dragging his pants open.
Gabe liked William's control—the carelessness of his sexuality, undercut by an unwillingness to beg. It was admirable, if annoying. Gabe was pretty sure he could make William beg for it. But not today. Today William was irresistible, spread across the hotel room bed; his lips parted, a sheen of sweat across his upper lip despite the air-conditioning.
Finally, Gabe finished unlacing William, tugging his pants apart. William's cock sprang into Gabe's hand. William stilled; the slight moaning sounds he had been emitting quieted and Gabe guessed he was holding his breath.
When he left the next morning, Gabe stole the piece of leather. He knotted it around his wrist and spent the entirety of his flight home agitating his new bracelet. He would use his thumb to pull the leather tight against the bones in his wrist, cutting off the circulation until his hand began to turn white. As his wrist began to ache, he'd think about the curve of William's neck, the hardness of his cock, the way he moaned into Gabe's mouth.
William called him two days later.
"I can't do up my pants," he said when Gabe picked up.
"I thought your mom woulda taught you how to do that," Gabe replied lazily. As William laughed on the other end, he smiled widely. A girl across the bar mistakenly thought he was smiling at her and smiled back. He lifted his glass, nodding slightly in her direction, and continued, "Wait, you have them on right now, don't you?"
"Uh huh," William mumbled cheerfully and Gabe could tell he was grinning.
"Where are you?"
"The bus." William paused and clarified, "Everyone else went out."
"Take a picture." Gabe locked eyes with the brunette across the bar again. "Send it to me."
"You want me to take a picture with my cock hanging out?"
"Well, yeah." Gabe could see the girl was heading towards him. He noted the way she nervously brushed a lock of wavy chestnut hair out of her face.
"Can't do it," William said with mock-severity, "has Pete taught us nothing?"
"Fine." Gabe smiled, this time at the girl with brown hair that tickled the tops of her bare shoulders—it felt fake. "I'll find something else to do."
Gabe flipped his phone closed. His fingers unconsciously tugged at the length of leather looped around his wrist.
"Hi, I'm Gabe," he said to the girl as he felt his wrist begin to ache.
2006
Note: Title from 'Sing Me Sweet' by Matt Nathanson.
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