bragnificent | IC CONTACT ➛ mask or menace.

[ If Reggie were anyone else he might try to retreat behind the door right about now, or at least use it to create a more concrete barrier between him and Archie... but he's Reggie Mantle, which means he doesn't wuss out. Not like that, anyway.

He also wets his lips, then rubs them with his palm, feeling like he knows exactly what Archie means even despite his vagueness. Even though Reggie's probably been slightly more successful with putting that all out of mind for longer spans of time before the foggy memory slaps him upside the head again, it still hangs inescapably present in their apartment anyway. A tension both of them have been trying to pretend isn't there.

Without breaking eye contact, Reggie asks: ]

Thinking about what, Archie?

[ Playing dumb. Yes, good plan!! ]

[The eye-contact feels like Too Much, somehow. Archie's gaze drops to Reggie's mouth without him even really thinking about it.]

The party. [He grips the doorjamb, blunt fingernails digging into the wood, more for something to hold onto than for actual support.] In the hallway.

You. [The words stop and start, frustrating. He's not extraordinarily articulate even on good days—song lyrics are one thing, writing it down and going back later and erasing and reshuffling and it's the music that gets stuck in his head first, the poetry just follows—but right now he's having trouble with voicing everything that comes crashing through his head when he's lying awake, lonely and too hot.

He finally manages to flick his eyes back up to Reggie's.] You.

[ It isn't often that Reggie doesn't know what to say, but this is now one of those times-- even if he was the one who challenged Archie to say it in the first place. Part of him was hoping that maybe this would be about something else, one of many other problems that Archie surely has because he always seemed to have problems, but Archie doesn't really need to say any more than what he just did to make it perfectly clear what he means.

Reggie doesn't say anything for what's probably only seconds, but feels like longer-- five minutes, ten, an hour. He doesn't move or seem to react, but his heart is racing a bit faster in his chest, pounding impossibly loud to his ears; he watches Archie almost warily, wanting to be sure he can't also hear it.

He wonders what would happen if he took Archie by the wrist and pulled him into his room right now, but instead says: ]

Oh. [ --And laughs like someone releasing a breath. ] You know, that's right... god, I have never been that wasted before in my entire life.

[ Blood thumps more in his temples, slow now but still as loud to him as before. You, Archie said, he can't stop thinking about Reggie? But Archie's drunk and Reggie was stupid-- the poor idiot's probably just confused, right? Reggie leans his arm on the doorjamb, biting the corner of his lip as he tries to force a smirk, or at least a casual, reassuring(-ish) smile. This part is usually pretty easy, defusing an awkward situation by shrugging it off with a quip and a crude remark, but this time he does feel a moment of conflict. ]

But I mean, you get how it is-- you got pretty drunk yourself. [ He reminds himself that there's nothing really to this; nothing to ruin. ] Was it at least any good?

[Somehow, despite having just ingested an ungodly amount of liquid, Archie's mouth feels excruciatingly dry. So this means he'd been right, right? That Reggie didn't really mean it he was just drunk and probably like, lost.

Not that he seems angry about it. Not that he hadn't seemed, uh... enthusiastic at the time. Not that a lot of things, but sometimes Archie struggles a bit with putting two and two together. Not all the time, but he has gigantic blind spots. (More than a few.)]

What? [And yet, Archie sounds a touch indignant, all the same.] You walked away!

[Granted, Archie had been in the middle of stopping him at the time, but in the very frustrating stretch of days—weeks—since, he has completely and utterly forgotten why.]

[ Reggie stares at Archie blankly, mouth dropping slightly open in surprise like that was the last thing he was expecting to hear-- and in a way it is, although Reggie has no idea what he was expecting in the first place. This is the first time he's ever been in this specific situation, and it's difficult for him.

For a lot of reasons, not only because of how much more awkward it just became. ]

I-- [ Reggie's gaze drops downward for a moment, looking Archie over almost as if he's trying to recall the moment. Maybe even considering recreating it now. He raises his eyes back up slowly. ] Well... that's good, right?

[ Right? Yes... right? ]

And it's not like you didn't still get plenty of action. Hell, maybe even more than me... I didn't know you were into-- [ He pauses. ] Bro, how much did you even drink tonight, anyway?

[Is it good? One of the many questions Archie has been struggling with for literally two weeks, and even after all that time he's no closer to coming up with an actual answer.

Because, yes. Right? But also... definitely no.

But yes, because clearly—obviously—surely that's proof that Reggie hadn't meant to do it. If it's good, right? And that weird churning disappointment flopping around in Archie's belly is just too much carbonated alcohol threatening to make a return trip through his mouth.

Which is in the middle of opening and closing as he tries to figure out which of the many questions (or vaguely questioning statements) he's being asked he should answer, and what the answers even are to any of them, eventually plucking out the last by simple virtue of it being the easiest.] Just what was in the fridge. [So, like, a lot... because when there's enough alcohol in the system, it doesn't matter who you're attracted to, right? Nothing's weird when you're drunk.

Certainly none of what had gone on at the party had felt weird, except being left stranded in the hallway with his costume entirely undone and all of the skin that Reggie had touched on fire in his wake.] And all that just, happened. [All the action. Again, very clear, Archie.]

[ Even if it is a good thing, it doesn't really feel like one to Reggie, either. Rationally he knows it's better off that way, it would have probably fucked up their friendship or something and Reggie would rather at least have that than nothing at all, although... this wasn't much better. Archie is also obviously super drunk; who knows how much of this will still be weighing on him after he sobers up, how much he'll even remember, or if the alcohol is prompting starker honesty from him like it had (in a way) with Reggie. He has no way to tell, and nothing he can really do about it either. Not much, anyway.

This is exactly the kind of mess Reggie usually tries to avoid, because it's the kind he isn't sure how to fix.

He nods slowly, rubbing his hand over his mouth. ]

Yeah, well-- that just happened, too. I was pretty drunk, you know? And on something... it's not like I planned it out.

[ It's not the kind of thing that should "just happen" between friends, that sort of thing should be more deliberate or that's how you get problems. Reggie keeps his gaze down for a moment, then looks back at Archie silently for a few moments. ]

And you're way too drunk for me to finish the job now. [ He fwaps his hand in a curt, dismissive motion, smirking in his usual cheeky Reggie way. Then he adds, as if it's an afterthought: ] But don't worry about having to let me down easy or something, if that's what you're here for-- cuz I couldn't care less.

[Granted, Archie doesn't have much of a poker face in general, but in his current state he can't even make an attempt. Something vaguely hurt and kicked-puppy-like settles into the lines of his expression.] Oh. [It's not like he actually expected Reggie to care, but also like, apparently he had a little bit? Because the casual dismissal really smarts. He feels stupid, which is usual, but how monumentally bad an idea it was to kick in Reggie's door and demand they talk about the almost-blowjob in the middle of the night just because he can't stop thinking about it finally starts to sink in. (And now he can't even drunk dial his dad, which is honestly the worst!)

He pulls away from the door frame with a jerk, trying to salvage the dignity he absolutely does not possess while this sloppy drunk.] Well. Well, good, then. [Excellent, u did it Archie.]

[ Normally Reggie has a pretty decent poker face, at least after he has that initial moment to react-- it's not that his emotions don't show, particularly when caught off-guard, but he can usually recover fairly quickly in order to hide the ones he'd rather not advertise.

What he'd been planning to do was just that, continue to act so casual there'd be no way to assume it was anything but a drunken mistake; no embarrassment, no awkwardness, no undisclosed feelings, just chill confidence in his assertion that it meant nothing. What actually happens is that his face falls and remains that way once he sees the look that settles on Archie's face. Reggie's brows quirk and furrow in a troubled way and, without even thinking, he grabs for Archie's wrist just to keep him there for at least another minute. ]

Wait. [ He has no idea what he means to say. ] Dude, I--

[ Eyebrows furrowing more, Reggie casually chews at the corner of his lower lip. This is a terrible conversation to be sober for, he feels like if he weren't then maybe he'd luck into a stroke of problem-solving brilliance right about now, or they could make clumsy passes at each other and then laugh them off again in the morning. But he is sober, so his brain has no choice but to operate accordingly. ]

Why are you mad?

[Archie stops, but the embarrassment and urge to escape to save face makes him stiff, standing there. His mouth opens and closes a few time, as he flounders to explain (even to himself.)] I don't know, I— [He wets his lips, and then the stiffness bleeds out of him, shoulders slumping.] I'm stupid. I don't know.

[Well, that's not dramatic or anything.

The problem is that he doesn't even recognize the fact that there's a void in him that he's been trying desperately to fill since back when Ms Grundy left. A few stray kisses at a party while too drunk to care about what they might mean, what might happen after, were different than say... Valerie. Or Veronica.

Or Reggie.

And if Reggie doesn't care, then... then... he doesn't know. Maybe getting this drunk was a bad idea, somehow.]

[ The worst thing about this is everything-- which is probably an overly dramatic take on things, but Reggie's feeling it anyway. Pretty much everything he could (should) say right now goes in the face of both how he's used to handling things and how he prefers handling things, even though a lot of his instincts are also, frankly, counter-intuitive to anything he might really want. When it comes to feelings is just about the only time Reggie tries to keep his expectations low, "realistic", especially when friends are involved.

This time is, of course, his bad, and he doesn't like admitting to things like that either. But if anything's clear to him right now it's that he's going to have to make some kind of compromise if he wants to actually put things a little bit right.

Reggie doesn't let go of Archie's wrist, though his other hand moves to pat, then grip, Archie's shoulder. He shakes his head. ]

Think you're just confused, Archie. It's the booze talking or something-- you'll sleep all this off and feel different in the morning.

[ Right...? Except Archie said he'd been thinking about this, and it's been long enough since the party by now that Reggie can't dismiss that as drunk bullshit entirely. Reggie looks at him, gaze dropping to Archie's lips for what is probably a few seconds too long, and then he leans close so that they're forehead-to-forehead.

Still playing it safe, but not that safe. Reggie exhales slowly and says nothing for a moment, trying to figure this out without admitting to anything he's not yet ready to. He wants to say Please don't overthink it but that's probably even more of a mistake. And that train has left the station anyway. ]

Listen, it wasn't just random-- it's not that I wouldn't wanna go through with anything, I just-- I can't really explain it, Arch. I know we're not-- [ Not what... ] But you are like... important to me. Okay?

[The sudden closeness makes him dizzy, and all at once it feels like there's a lot going on. Too much. And not enough still, somehow—Archie's fingers twitch, and he feels electric, like he had two weeks ago in the hallway.

For a long moment he doesn't know what to do, or say, or think, or feel. But as much as he wants to be wanted, it's the last bit (the important bit) that makes him forget everything else.

And he does what he always does when the whole world is tangled up around him but one person finds a way to make him feel good and worthwhile regardless: he tilts his head just enough to close the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Reggie's.]

[ The hesitation before Reggie kisses back only lasts seconds, the time it takes for him to decide he doesn't care if this is a bad idea. It could be, almost definitely will be, but he's thought about this too many times before already.

He'd sort of invited it, anyway; the forehead lean can be a move of his, easily shrugged off when unsuccessful, but clearly worth its weight in gold the times when it does land. The hand on Archie's shoulder moves slowly up his neck, before Reggie's fingers disappear in Archie's thick red hair and tug it gently to pull Archie closer. Reggie opens his mouth up to the kiss, inviting more while his other hand moves to stroke up Archie's arm.

Fuck, Reggie thinks, although not angrily. There's more to that thought, too, enough that Reggie might normally stew in his inability to unthink it, but right now he actually doesn't care much; without breaking the kiss he steps out from his room just enough to close the door behind him, offering them something stable to lean against. Were the conditions different, of course, he'd probably consider closing the door with both of them on the other side, but for now all Reggie can think about is Archie's warm mouth and how his bicep feels under Reggie's fingers. ]

[Oh, now there's fingers in his hair: that's the stuff. Archie makes a noise in the back of his throat, pressing himself as close up against Reggie as he can possibly get, hands wandering around for the best place to settle. He did kiss Kyle a little bit, he thinks (or did he... hard to remember), so it's not his first time making out with someone as big and solid as himself (probably), but it's still novel.

Eventually one hand lands on Reggie's hip, and the other slips up his side to curl around his back, a subtle way for him to hang on so he doesn't end up clumsily overbalancing anytime soon. When he's secure, the light, soft exploration of Reggie's mouth turns more insistent: when he tugs at Reggie's bottom lip it's with his teeth now, not his own lips. His tongue drags against the roof of Reggie's mouth, and Archie maneuvers him as well as he can up against the now-closed door.]

[ Leaning back against the door, Reggie focuses on balancing his weight between it and Archie's body, the way they're both currently pressed together. He's fooled around like this before, it's not his first rodeo by any means, but there's still something uniquely overwhelming about the experience that makes Reggie feel slightly dizzy, too-- though not in a bad way, especially if he doesn't think too much about why that might be.

Reggie murmurs sounds of encouragement against Archie's mouth, panting whenever they part slightly only to then attack Archie's mouth more roughly and tug harder at his hair. The hand on Archie's arm moves downward so Reggie can anchor himself better, gripping Archie's ass. Then he relents his hold on Archie's hair, pulling back just enough to breathe, then speak. ]

Archie...

[ It's tempting to invite more, to offer to finish what they never got to the night of the party, but Reggie can recognize that's something better saved for a time either both of them will remember, or neither will. Still, Reggie doesn't push him away, only smirks slightly. ]

You are so damn drunk, dude. But if you weren't--

[ That's all he can manage so far-- they should stop, he knows this, but he's also not quite ready to stop yet. He kisses Archie again, figuring that if they do have to stop there's at least no harm in easing into it slowly. ]

I mean, you could be too... [Archie is maybe not full of great ideas even when he's stone cold sober, so it's probably not actually comforting that that particular one feels absolutely solid to him. When you're drunk, you don't have to question things, it's great!! And Reggie seems like maybe he's questioning things right now.

Well, not that much. Since they're still kissing.

Slower now, though, like maybe it's coming to an end. Archie is more than a little reluctant: he does like kissing just for kissing's sake, it makes him feel like he's not so alone for a little while, but this kiss... it's good, in ways that his other drunken makeouts hadn't really been. Not that they were bad, but this feels different, somehow.

Like Ronnie had always been different somehow. Archie doesn't really know how to process that, right now, so like everything on the night of the party, he just... doesn't bother.

He doesn't pull back, but he does still manage to mutter sheepishly:] You'll have to make more, though. [Listen. He was at the complete end of his rope. If he'd have known that he could just get a touch wasted and kiss it out earlier he wouldn't have spent two weeks going out of his mind every time the memory slipped back up to haunt him. (That's a lie he probably still would have.)]

I don't need to be. [ Drunk, that is. By which he means... ] Being drunk or being sober only changes what I do, not what I want.

[ And he very, very much wants this, enough that it's painful to consider turning it down, bringing it to an end. Enough that actually saying that might be somewhat revealing, more so than he wants it to be, if he was at all worried that Archie would even remember after he sobered up again.

Reggie doesn't know much, but he knows him getting drunk now wouldn't solve his other concern-- that maybe Archie is just confused, that he might not really want any of this the way he thinks he does right now. If Reggie's his friend, he should care about that, right? Because there's no way for him to really be sure when he's obviously the only one between them thinking somewhat clearly right now. It's not even that Reggie's smart or educated enough to be able to navigate the nuances of consent in cases such as this, but he knows all about drunken impulses, mistakes, and regrets; enough to make him hesitate.

He exhales slowly, moving his hand to the front of Archie's pants to cup his groin, hand and fingers steady despite the conflict weighing on him. He wets his lips, trying to make a decision. Steel his resolve. Resist the desire to unzip Archie right there as the zipper rests against Reggie's thumbnail. But all Reggie does is leave his hand there, stroking Archie slowly through his pants. ]

I have a better idea. [ He says, finally. ] How about we both go to bed first, and then... if you still want to in the morning, well-- you know.

[ He imagines Archie will probably forget and god HE HATES THIS... but it seems better than dealing with a potentially angry Archie later, especially since Reggie can't really blame things on alcohol, even if he were to start drinking now. ]

I mean, I do still owe you.

Edited (asdlkj it ate some) 2017-07-11 14:19 (UTC)

[That sounds like a terrible idea, probably the worst ever, because the sudden pressure on his dick makes Archie's hips buck and he grabs onto Reggie's biceps for support. Sure, it's just a hand over his sweatpants, but it's more than he's had in months (aside from the night of the party which certainly didn't help) and like kissing, or dating, or anything really... it does that funny thing where it starts to feel a little less like maybe he's got a big empty void in the pit of his belly that he doesn't understand or know how to address.

Which is probably why he sounds absolutely appalled when he asks:] What? Now? [He can't even imagine just going to bed first. Waiting that long. He can't imagine feeling any less like this, ever, unless Reggie's hand keeps moving like that and suddenly the prospect of adding hours onto the two weeks worth of waiting is nigh unthinkable. Archie leans in again, leaving a trail of slow, clumsy, wet kisses up the curve of Reggie's jaw, hopeful and insistent.

Part of it is physical (okay, a lot of it), but so much of it isn't just that and he wants— he wants. He doesn't know how to express it with anything but his mouth sliding over warm skin. Muffled there:] Come on, don't stop.

[ And with that, there goes the last of Reggie's restraint, but let no one say he didn't try to do what he assumed was the responsible thing. Not that he can really be sure what that actually is, because all he really knows about "responsibility" in situations like this is "don't fuck drunk people if you're sober." Same thing everyone knows, basically.

But that's also not what's happening now. It's... ]

Okay. Okay... [ Breathing hard, Reggie doesn't stop; he also wants. ] I didn't want to, but--

[ Breathless or not, Reggie tilts his head to make room for Archie, still surprised at how overwhelmed he feels-- not in a bad way, but in a way he'd never expect of himself. He never anticipated any of this happening, though, ever, which is probably why.

He moves his stroking from outside Archie's pants to inside, his fingers wrapping eagerly around Archie's dick. He'll still stop if he's told to, of course, but until that happens-- well, it does seem wrong, he can't blueball Archie twice in a row, right? Reggie's not here trying to play hard to get; Archie's been thinking about this, and obviously so has Reggie... though probably for longer.

Also, Reggie is rarely hard to get. ]

You like that?

[Archie loses his concentration at the progression to skin-on-skin, and at first his mouth stops moving and he just stands there with his lips on the curve Reggie's jaw, breathing, but as he starts to get hard with the movement his forehead drops down into the crook of Reggie's neck. It's warmer than he thought it'd be, softer somehow than he'd ever imagined (though he'd only actually been imagining for a few weeks now.) His fingers curl around the solid bulk of Reggie's arms, and even if the situation is familiar enough—it's certainly not the first handjob he's ever gotten—everything about this time is new and strange.

Exciting.]

God, [he groans, before nodding with his face still hidden against Reggie's skin. It feels good, so much better than his own hand, rendered increasingly inadequate over two weeks of progressively more profound frustration. He wants to melt and he wants to explode, and his eyes are closed (when did that happen?) so he could think of anyone when he starts to roll his hips into the grip around his dick.

He could, but he doesn't.] Reggie.

[ Reggie can't help but smirk, entirely pleased -- not to mention turned on, himself -- with how this is turning out, how Archie's responding to him. Fuck, Archie is cute. He always has been cute, but like this Reggie can finally allow himself to appreciate that fact fully, especially knowing that even out of the other people (boys included) Archie messed around with at their party, Reggie's the one who's remained in Archie's thoughts.

So maybe all the booze and coke hadn't been such a terrible idea after all.

Reggie leans his weight back slightly against the door, turning his head to kiss the top of Archie's, and then just resting it there against Archie's soft hair. ]

That's my name. [ He exhales, almost a laugh. More quietly, he murmurs: ] Relax, bro, I got you.

[ Reggie wets his lips, then bites them at the corner; the way Archie groans his name is striking below the belt, quite literally. Good, but Reggie is almost painfully turned on by now.

Almost panting, he withdraws his hand from Archie's pants just long enough so he can spit into his palm and then return it, stroking Archie more fervently now with that mild respite in friction. His other arm wraps tighter around Archie, fingers again digging deeper into his hair, and Reggie's eyes close too as he indulges in holding Archie like this. He decides he doesn't care if Archie doesn't remember most of this later, or if it never happens again; he wants, wants too much, but this is already more than he ever expected. Like... a fantasy. ]

[Oh. This is the best?? This is the best.

Not even the handjob part, exactly, though he's certainly not not enjoying that. But the fingers tugging at his hair, the barely-there pressure of a wayward kiss to the top of his head, the way his heart flip-flops around in his chest because he can hear the want in Reggie's voice. For him. And Reggie is so much more sturdy and solid than anyone else he knows, why hadn't he ever noticed that before? He's so easy to lean against, to relax into bonelessly, even as Archie presses insistently into the hand when it returns, wetter than before.

It's different than-- than his last, somehow. Not physically (although, yes physically), not just because Reggie doesn't have cello callouses. But there's something else, something... easier. It's almost like there's less pressure to prove himself, or be left in the dust.]

Please. [It's more a sigh than a word, too busy soaking up the attention and affection to think about returning it just yet while his brain isn't firing on all cylinders. ] I want— [He doesn't know, actually. Everything. More of this, certainly, even though he isn't... actually getting any harder.

Ahh, whiskey dick.]

[ He's so wrapped up, both in what he's doing and that it's Archie he's doing it with, that it takes Reggie a few seconds to realize anything's amiss; Archie is warm and firm and responsive against him, similar to how Reggie always pictured he might be. But different too, of course, because it's actually real. Before now, he never took seriously the idea that anything might ever happen.

Now that it is, all his focus is on not ruining it, not overthinking things. This is sometimes how things go between friends in the middle of the night, especially when alcohol's involved; nothing wrong with that. And in that case, Reggie knows already that his best -- if not only -- recourse is to be fine with it.

He refuses to worry. He'll think only about wanting, not about why. ]

What do you w-- oh, no. [ Now he notices. ] No no no no-- come on.

[ It shouldn't really be a surprise, all things considered, but before it occurs to him that perhaps this is a sign to call it a night, Reggie's instinct is to drop to his knees and try to fix the problem with his mouth-- or it is before he catches himself and remembers, no, we're not doing that while Archie's drunk. So he hisses: ]

Fuck.

[ And then reasserts his grip on Archie's dick, part of him wishing bitterly (not for the first time since they started, but especially now) that Archie were more sober. Because this is embarrassing, and also, well-- anti-climactic. If Archie were sober... this only goes to further prove that he really should be. ]

Edited 2017-07-21 16:42 (UTC)

[Archie is already pretty flushed, but he can feel his face heating up further in shame. His head jerks up off Reggie's shoulder when he swears, and Archie opens his mouth to make excuses, insist that this never happens, something to save face, but then...

But then.

The sensation is strange. Like all his veins start tingling (he never knew veins were something you could feel), and all the sudden the warm fog of dizziness and the illusion of time moving at a crawl is gone, like he dunked his face in a sink full of freezing water, but with none of the unpleasantness. The hand on his dick feels very there, though. Very there.

He stands up straight, straighter than he has all night certainly, though he doesn't drop his grip on Reggie's arms... and he's not exactly trying to pull away from the hand in his pants.] I— Reggie? [Any trace of a slur is gone, and his eyes are definitely more clear as well. He's blinking rapidly, like he's trying to suss out if what just happened actually happened, or if he's imagining it as they speak.]

[ Something about Archie's tone brings Reggie back from the edge of being prepared to give up and call it a night, draws his eyes toward Archie's slowly. Moments away from coming to his senses, but suddenly something is different.

Did he just...? Did Reggie do that, just now? He remembers, vaguely, Archie's idea that Reggie could get criminals drunk with his power as a way of fighting crime, but he'd never even considered the possibility that the power could also work in reverse. He isn't sure of that even now, despite the fact that Archie by all accounts does seem suddenly sober. His speech, his stance, the look in his eyes; Reggie is familiar enough with recognizing various stages of sobriety as well as intoxication.

He opens his mouth, then closes it; wets his lips as he prepares to try again, still leaving his hand wrapped firmly around Archie's dick. ]

... Yeah, Arch? Feeling okay?

[ He continues staring, uncertain... but curious. Not outright asking, but he imagines Archie will either catch his meaning or he won't, depending on if Reggie's instinct is correct or completely insane. Carefully (if a bit cheekily), he adds: ]

So what do I need to do now to get you hard?

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songwrite - 2017-07-24 11:06 (UTC) - Expand

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bragnificent - 2017-07-25 04:29 (UTC) - Expand

IC CONTACT ➛ mask or menace.

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nsfw-ish

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