without a key (epilogue)
Nate/Dan. s1 AU; Nate left town instead of Serena.
R. 2354 words.
Summary:"Dad's at some all-night installation thing," Dan tells him, and the meaning behind it is obvious.
Note: Just some bonus fluffporn. Which was mostly written way before any of the other parts of this fic, because I have PRIORITIES.
"Dad's at some all-night installation thing," Dan tells him, and the meaning behind it is obvious.
Sex has not come up a whole hell of a lot, except for how they're both hyper aware that they're not having it. It goes without saying that Dan is a talker, so it must be taking superhuman reserve to keep him from having this conversation with Nate; that, or he's nervous, afraid, especially since Nate's sexuality is a thing still in flux. Nate would tell him not to worry, but that would defeat the purpose of not discussing anything.
All they do is kiss, though they do so at length, pressed so tight in Dan's twin bed that the only place closer would be under Dan's skin. Nate like that about kissing Dan – likes to feel Dan's heartbeat right up against him, like the ballroom dance steps he's tried pretty hard to forget: quick quick slow.
They get wrapped up in each other. They kiss until their skin is flushed red and sticky, kiss until they're breathless, kiss until Nate can't keep his hands from slipping under Dan's shirt to press against his hot back, until Dan's hips are snug against his even though that's dangerous territory.
Nate isn't sure what makes them stop, except nerves, maybe. Sometimes it's Dan's parents or Jenny coming home (because they almost always go to Dan's, unless Anne has gone on a spa weekend or something). Sometimes Nate wonders how they would've been able to pull apart without the interruption.
It always takes a second or two to get their bearings, to breathe, to push away from each other. Nate will sometimes run his thumb over Dan's mouth, lips puffy from kissing, red and wet. Dan smiles under the touch and Nate tries hard not to kiss him again. Later he'll call the image back up in his head, wrap his hand around himself and picture Dan's mouth there.
Once, though –
Once Dan is kissing him, deeply like Dan is so good at, and he just says it, says, "I love you."
Nate can feel exactly how furiously Dan's heart is pounding – quicker than a quickstep – and it's all too much, too soon. It's been four months, maybe, depending on what they consider the beginning of their relationship (another conversation they haven't had). But Nate just finds himself reaching for the hem of Dan's shirt and yanking it up, tipping Dan back against the bed and settling on top of him.
Dan watches him with something curious in his widened dark eyes. Then it's kissing again, only there's all of Dan's skin under his fingertips, and it's hotter than before and Dan's hands are under Nate's shirt, palms pressing against Nate's spine.
They line up just right, Dan hard against Nate, and Dan moans – it's the first time Nate has ever made him do that, this rough little sound escaping from low in his throat like Dan can't keep it in, eyes shut tight and cheeks flushed. He moans because of Nate and Nate says, "Me too," before he can stop it.
He drops kisses over Dan's flushed face, his mouth, says, "I love you too," even though he's never told that to anyone except Blair in his entire life. But he does love Dan, he does. For all the reasons he told his parents: because Dan is smart and funny and kind, because he loves Nate, because he's good to Nate and good for him too. But also because Dan can be mean and judgmental and he overthinks everything all the time, because sometimes his mind is narrow even when he claims to be so open.
Dan's eyes open so he can look at Nate intently as he slowly slides the heel of his hand over the shape of Nate through his jeans. Nate sucks in a breath and kisses Dan again, trails his mouth over Dan's throat. He wants that sound back, that rough moan. He doesn't get it, though Dan laughs warmly before he tugs the button of Nate's jeans open.
That's the closest they come. Nate really thinks that'll be it, the first time, there on Dan's bed in the middle of the afternoon, until the front door opens distantly. A few minutes later Jenny's voice loudly echoes, "Stop making out, I'm home!"
Dan sighs loudly, his arms falling away as his head drops back against the pillows. He mutters, "Sisters."
Nate bites his lip, unwilling to accept that it's over just when it was getting so good. He rubs up against Dan a little.
"Can't," Dan says. It almost comes out like that moan, almost. "We can't."
"I know," Nate says with a sigh of his own, but he's still moving a little and Dan is too, slowly, without meaning to.
"We have to go out there and pretend to be normal and not have erections," Dan says.
"We won't if we –" Nate presses down a little harder.
But it's a no go.
Dan kisses him goodbye out on the street and calls him almost as soon as Nate is home, talks in a steady low mumble, says all the things he wants to do to Nate. Nate just has time to shut his bedroom door behind him, lean against it. He comes with Dan's voice in his ear and his hand on himself.
Before Dan hangs up, sounding a little breathless himself, he says, "Tell me again."
For once in his life Nate knows exactly what's going on and, without missing a beat, tells Dan he loves him again.
"It's good to hear that," Dan murmurs, an odd small talk phrase that sounds warm and genuine in his voice. It's a good thing to hear. It makes him feel good.
Honestly, Nate answers, "It's good to say it."
Which brings everything up to speed to: "Dad's at some all-night installation thing." After a beat, Dan adds, "Jenny is at another Waldorf soirée, and Mom is back up at Hudson this weekend."
Dan does not betray how he feels about that last little bit of information, because the point seems to be that they have the loft all to themselves for at least one night.
"Remember the first time I slept over," Nate teases, though nothing particularly shocking had gone on, unless one stoned kiss counts as shocking. It really wasn't, especially in retrospect.
As though to pay homage to that first night, they smoke a little first.
Dan is not hyper chatty (verbose, Dan informed him once, or loquacious; dating Dan will do wonders for Nate's SAT score) like he usually is high. Instead he is quiet and thoughtful as they pass the joint between them. The energy of the room is murky and mellow, and Dan is malleable and soft. They kiss leisurely with open mouths, in no rush.
Eventually Nate drags his lips along Dan's jaw, clean-shaven but still slightly rough, and sucks gently below his ear. He opens Dan's shirt button by button, concentrating on the task more than he concentrates on most, and pushes it off Dan's shoulders, where it catches at the crook of his arms. Dan laughs a little, falls back onto his elbows on the bed and brings the joint back up to his lips for a long drag.
Nate wets his lips unconsciously before pressing a kiss to the hollow dip of Dan's collarbone. He moves lower, sliding to his knees on the floor and trailing kisses over Dan's stomach as he reaches for Dan's belt.
Dan exhales smoke, and his nerves show in the slight tremor of his hand. His bottom lip is between his teeth as he watches Nate carefully divest him of his jeans, lifting his hips to help, and he unsuccessfully tries to stifle a shaky breath when Nate kisses his dick through his boxers. It hits Nate abruptly that he's never gone down on anyone before. Blair had given him a few blowjobs, very sparingly, always the pinnacle of her reward system, but she never let him return the favor.
Before he can cross that off his list, Dan tangles fingers in Nate's hair and tugs him back up for another kiss. Nate lets his weight settle on Dan, feeling an odd kind of shiver in his chest when they come into contact. Dan grips him so tightly, too tightly, and that makes Nate shiver too, makes him want to keep kissing Dan and never stop.
Nate pulls back just enough to stub the joint out, and then he's pressing close to Dan again.
Dan tugs Nate's t-shirt over his head impatiently and then his hands are all over Nate, everywhere, at once: clenching tight in his hair, dragging blunt nails over his back, squeezing under the waistband of his jeans. Dan moans a little, the rasp of it so soft Nate nearly misses it, and suddenly everything sharpens. It gets frantic where it had been so easy, messy and urgent where before they'd been happy to coast. Nate thinks it might just happen like this – half-dressed, too soon – but he wants it too much to care at the moment.
Until Dan is gasping, saying, "No, wait, no, I want to see –"
Nate stills. "See?"
"Can I?" Dan kisses Nate's throat wetly and wriggles free from underneath him so he can push Nate onto his back. His hands are at the fastening on Nate's jeans, rubbing the bulge there distractedly, feeling the shape of Nate's cock. "Can I?"
"Do whatever the fuck you want," Nate says, which gets a laugh as Dan gets the button open, zipper down. He pulls the remainder of Nate's clothes off unceremoniously, but then he pauses. He stares at Nate spread out beneath him, the rapid rise and fall of Nate's chest, his cock getting harder under the scrutiny. Dan touches him with light exploratory fingers. Nate remembers that Dan has never touched another boy either; whatever first Dan is for him, he is for Dan too.
"You too," Nate prompts. He wants badly to see Dan, touch him, take him in hand.
Dan sits back on his heels to strip himself of his unbuttoned button-down, finally, and then eases his boxers off. Nate grabs Dan's ass before he can stop himself, brings Dan back on top of him.
The first slide of Dan's cock against his nearly undoes them both. They look down as one, watching raptly as they move together. Neither of them can stop looking, apparently, at where they move inexpertly against each other, hard and flushed, too distracted by it even to kiss.
Nate's still got his hands on Dan's ass, directing those slow thrusts, pushing them towards that dizzy edge. Dan wraps a tight grip around them both, letting the rhythm Nate's setting slide them in and out of his fist with little assistance. Nate really can't pull his gaze from Dan's cock, can feel the pulse of it against his own. He thinks Dan's cock is awfully nice to look at, longer than Nate's but not quite as thick, looking bigger against the backdrop of Dan's thinness. He curls a hand around Dan's around them both, wants to feel it, wants –
"Want it in my mouth," Nate mumbles. It's a clumsy want of putting it, unthinking and motivated by desire, and it'll probably be embarrassing later. But right now he wants Dan's cock in his mouth, can imagine the weight of it on his tongue, the fullness between his lips. Dan must be able to imagine it too, because he moans desperately and spills all over Nate's stomach, cock, both their hands. His hips don't still for even a minute, still pushing restlessly against Nate.
And before Nate has much of a chance to enjoy that, to revel in Dan panting and sticky and sated, Dan is saying, "Tell me when," as he shifts down Nate's body to take Nate into his mouth.
Nate has a half-second of mild jealousy before he truly does not care about anything at all, Dan's mouth hot and wet, his cheeks going concave as he sucks. Nate lasts maybe three seconds and does not have time to warn Dan before coming unexpectedly.
"When," he breathes once Dan has pulled off, slumping back against the mattress. He winces. "Sorry."
Dan is making a little bit of a face but shakes his head, half-smiles. "Could be worse. And it's not like mine wasn't already…everywhere, when I –" He breaks off, cheeks pinking as post-coital embarrassment sinks in – yes, they really did all those things, yes, they were that shameless, yes, it was that messy, that good.
It only serves to make Nate want to wrap Dan up in his arms, so that's what he does.
They trade kisses slower than they did at the start of the night, sweat drying on their skin. Nate doesn't feel anything close to satisfaction, the roll-over-and-sleep feeling he's come to associate with jerking off. He just wants to keep kissing. He wants to do it all over again.
He says as much and Dan laughs quietly. "Shit. I mean, shit. We just had sex. Like, actually."
"I know, dude, I was there," Nate says. "I saw the whole thing go down." Dan pinches him and Nate grins, feels that flutter in his chest he sometimes has around Dan. Words tumble out without his meaning to say them. "I'm glad, though. That it was you."
When Nate thought about the first time he'd have sex, he'd never imagined it on a bar in an empty ballroom or with a boy in Brooklyn. He thought it would be fumbling but nice, carefully orchestrated and painstakingly planned. A movie first time. Candles, pink lingerie, chaste kisses, exchanged I love yous.
It's messier than that, though. He had no way of anticipating how out of control of his own body he'd feel, how it would be to give control to someone and something else. To just let it happen, however it was supposed to happen.
"I'm glad it was me, too," Dan jokes.
Nate finds he doesn't regret it, not any of it.
Nate/Dan. s1 AU; Nate left town instead of Serena.
R. 2354 words.
Summary:"Dad's at some all-night installation thing," Dan tells him, and the meaning behind it is obvious.
Note: Just some bonus fluffporn. Which was mostly written way before any of the other parts of this fic, because I have PRIORITIES.
"Dad's at some all-night installation thing," Dan tells him, and the meaning behind it is obvious.
Sex has not come up a whole hell of a lot, except for how they're both hyper aware that they're not having it. It goes without saying that Dan is a talker, so it must be taking superhuman reserve to keep him from having this conversation with Nate; that, or he's nervous, afraid, especially since Nate's sexuality is a thing still in flux. Nate would tell him not to worry, but that would defeat the purpose of not discussing anything.
All they do is kiss, though they do so at length, pressed so tight in Dan's twin bed that the only place closer would be under Dan's skin. Nate like that about kissing Dan – likes to feel Dan's heartbeat right up against him, like the ballroom dance steps he's tried pretty hard to forget: quick quick slow.
They get wrapped up in each other. They kiss until their skin is flushed red and sticky, kiss until they're breathless, kiss until Nate can't keep his hands from slipping under Dan's shirt to press against his hot back, until Dan's hips are snug against his even though that's dangerous territory.
Nate isn't sure what makes them stop, except nerves, maybe. Sometimes it's Dan's parents or Jenny coming home (because they almost always go to Dan's, unless Anne has gone on a spa weekend or something). Sometimes Nate wonders how they would've been able to pull apart without the interruption.
It always takes a second or two to get their bearings, to breathe, to push away from each other. Nate will sometimes run his thumb over Dan's mouth, lips puffy from kissing, red and wet. Dan smiles under the touch and Nate tries hard not to kiss him again. Later he'll call the image back up in his head, wrap his hand around himself and picture Dan's mouth there.
Once, though –
Once Dan is kissing him, deeply like Dan is so good at, and he just says it, says, "I love you."
Nate can feel exactly how furiously Dan's heart is pounding – quicker than a quickstep – and it's all too much, too soon. It's been four months, maybe, depending on what they consider the beginning of their relationship (another conversation they haven't had). But Nate just finds himself reaching for the hem of Dan's shirt and yanking it up, tipping Dan back against the bed and settling on top of him.
Dan watches him with something curious in his widened dark eyes. Then it's kissing again, only there's all of Dan's skin under his fingertips, and it's hotter than before and Dan's hands are under Nate's shirt, palms pressing against Nate's spine.
They line up just right, Dan hard against Nate, and Dan moans – it's the first time Nate has ever made him do that, this rough little sound escaping from low in his throat like Dan can't keep it in, eyes shut tight and cheeks flushed. He moans because of Nate and Nate says, "Me too," before he can stop it.
He drops kisses over Dan's flushed face, his mouth, says, "I love you too," even though he's never told that to anyone except Blair in his entire life. But he does love Dan, he does. For all the reasons he told his parents: because Dan is smart and funny and kind, because he loves Nate, because he's good to Nate and good for him too. But also because Dan can be mean and judgmental and he overthinks everything all the time, because sometimes his mind is narrow even when he claims to be so open.
Dan's eyes open so he can look at Nate intently as he slowly slides the heel of his hand over the shape of Nate through his jeans. Nate sucks in a breath and kisses Dan again, trails his mouth over Dan's throat. He wants that sound back, that rough moan. He doesn't get it, though Dan laughs warmly before he tugs the button of Nate's jeans open.
That's the closest they come. Nate really thinks that'll be it, the first time, there on Dan's bed in the middle of the afternoon, until the front door opens distantly. A few minutes later Jenny's voice loudly echoes, "Stop making out, I'm home!"
Dan sighs loudly, his arms falling away as his head drops back against the pillows. He mutters, "Sisters."
Nate bites his lip, unwilling to accept that it's over just when it was getting so good. He rubs up against Dan a little.
"Can't," Dan says. It almost comes out like that moan, almost. "We can't."
"I know," Nate says with a sigh of his own, but he's still moving a little and Dan is too, slowly, without meaning to.
"We have to go out there and pretend to be normal and not have erections," Dan says.
"We won't if we –" Nate presses down a little harder.
But it's a no go.
Dan kisses him goodbye out on the street and calls him almost as soon as Nate is home, talks in a steady low mumble, says all the things he wants to do to Nate. Nate just has time to shut his bedroom door behind him, lean against it. He comes with Dan's voice in his ear and his hand on himself.
Before Dan hangs up, sounding a little breathless himself, he says, "Tell me again."
For once in his life Nate knows exactly what's going on and, without missing a beat, tells Dan he loves him again.
"It's good to hear that," Dan murmurs, an odd small talk phrase that sounds warm and genuine in his voice. It's a good thing to hear. It makes him feel good.
Honestly, Nate answers, "It's good to say it."
Which brings everything up to speed to: "Dad's at some all-night installation thing." After a beat, Dan adds, "Jenny is at another Waldorf soirée, and Mom is back up at Hudson this weekend."
Dan does not betray how he feels about that last little bit of information, because the point seems to be that they have the loft all to themselves for at least one night.
"Remember the first time I slept over," Nate teases, though nothing particularly shocking had gone on, unless one stoned kiss counts as shocking. It really wasn't, especially in retrospect.
As though to pay homage to that first night, they smoke a little first.
Dan is not hyper chatty (verbose, Dan informed him once, or loquacious; dating Dan will do wonders for Nate's SAT score) like he usually is high. Instead he is quiet and thoughtful as they pass the joint between them. The energy of the room is murky and mellow, and Dan is malleable and soft. They kiss leisurely with open mouths, in no rush.
Eventually Nate drags his lips along Dan's jaw, clean-shaven but still slightly rough, and sucks gently below his ear. He opens Dan's shirt button by button, concentrating on the task more than he concentrates on most, and pushes it off Dan's shoulders, where it catches at the crook of his arms. Dan laughs a little, falls back onto his elbows on the bed and brings the joint back up to his lips for a long drag.
Nate wets his lips unconsciously before pressing a kiss to the hollow dip of Dan's collarbone. He moves lower, sliding to his knees on the floor and trailing kisses over Dan's stomach as he reaches for Dan's belt.
Dan exhales smoke, and his nerves show in the slight tremor of his hand. His bottom lip is between his teeth as he watches Nate carefully divest him of his jeans, lifting his hips to help, and he unsuccessfully tries to stifle a shaky breath when Nate kisses his dick through his boxers. It hits Nate abruptly that he's never gone down on anyone before. Blair had given him a few blowjobs, very sparingly, always the pinnacle of her reward system, but she never let him return the favor.
Before he can cross that off his list, Dan tangles fingers in Nate's hair and tugs him back up for another kiss. Nate lets his weight settle on Dan, feeling an odd kind of shiver in his chest when they come into contact. Dan grips him so tightly, too tightly, and that makes Nate shiver too, makes him want to keep kissing Dan and never stop.
Nate pulls back just enough to stub the joint out, and then he's pressing close to Dan again.
Dan tugs Nate's t-shirt over his head impatiently and then his hands are all over Nate, everywhere, at once: clenching tight in his hair, dragging blunt nails over his back, squeezing under the waistband of his jeans. Dan moans a little, the rasp of it so soft Nate nearly misses it, and suddenly everything sharpens. It gets frantic where it had been so easy, messy and urgent where before they'd been happy to coast. Nate thinks it might just happen like this – half-dressed, too soon – but he wants it too much to care at the moment.
Until Dan is gasping, saying, "No, wait, no, I want to see –"
Nate stills. "See?"
"Can I?" Dan kisses Nate's throat wetly and wriggles free from underneath him so he can push Nate onto his back. His hands are at the fastening on Nate's jeans, rubbing the bulge there distractedly, feeling the shape of Nate's cock. "Can I?"
"Do whatever the fuck you want," Nate says, which gets a laugh as Dan gets the button open, zipper down. He pulls the remainder of Nate's clothes off unceremoniously, but then he pauses. He stares at Nate spread out beneath him, the rapid rise and fall of Nate's chest, his cock getting harder under the scrutiny. Dan touches him with light exploratory fingers. Nate remembers that Dan has never touched another boy either; whatever first Dan is for him, he is for Dan too.
"You too," Nate prompts. He wants badly to see Dan, touch him, take him in hand.
Dan sits back on his heels to strip himself of his unbuttoned button-down, finally, and then eases his boxers off. Nate grabs Dan's ass before he can stop himself, brings Dan back on top of him.
The first slide of Dan's cock against his nearly undoes them both. They look down as one, watching raptly as they move together. Neither of them can stop looking, apparently, at where they move inexpertly against each other, hard and flushed, too distracted by it even to kiss.
Nate's still got his hands on Dan's ass, directing those slow thrusts, pushing them towards that dizzy edge. Dan wraps a tight grip around them both, letting the rhythm Nate's setting slide them in and out of his fist with little assistance. Nate really can't pull his gaze from Dan's cock, can feel the pulse of it against his own. He thinks Dan's cock is awfully nice to look at, longer than Nate's but not quite as thick, looking bigger against the backdrop of Dan's thinness. He curls a hand around Dan's around them both, wants to feel it, wants –
"Want it in my mouth," Nate mumbles. It's a clumsy want of putting it, unthinking and motivated by desire, and it'll probably be embarrassing later. But right now he wants Dan's cock in his mouth, can imagine the weight of it on his tongue, the fullness between his lips. Dan must be able to imagine it too, because he moans desperately and spills all over Nate's stomach, cock, both their hands. His hips don't still for even a minute, still pushing restlessly against Nate.
And before Nate has much of a chance to enjoy that, to revel in Dan panting and sticky and sated, Dan is saying, "Tell me when," as he shifts down Nate's body to take Nate into his mouth.
Nate has a half-second of mild jealousy before he truly does not care about anything at all, Dan's mouth hot and wet, his cheeks going concave as he sucks. Nate lasts maybe three seconds and does not have time to warn Dan before coming unexpectedly.
"When," he breathes once Dan has pulled off, slumping back against the mattress. He winces. "Sorry."
Dan is making a little bit of a face but shakes his head, half-smiles. "Could be worse. And it's not like mine wasn't already…everywhere, when I –" He breaks off, cheeks pinking as post-coital embarrassment sinks in – yes, they really did all those things, yes, they were that shameless, yes, it was that messy, that good.
It only serves to make Nate want to wrap Dan up in his arms, so that's what he does.
They trade kisses slower than they did at the start of the night, sweat drying on their skin. Nate doesn't feel anything close to satisfaction, the roll-over-and-sleep feeling he's come to associate with jerking off. He just wants to keep kissing. He wants to do it all over again.
He says as much and Dan laughs quietly. "Shit. I mean, shit. We just had sex. Like, actually."
"I know, dude, I was there," Nate says. "I saw the whole thing go down." Dan pinches him and Nate grins, feels that flutter in his chest he sometimes has around Dan. Words tumble out without his meaning to say them. "I'm glad, though. That it was you."
When Nate thought about the first time he'd have sex, he'd never imagined it on a bar in an empty ballroom or with a boy in Brooklyn. He thought it would be fumbling but nice, carefully orchestrated and painstakingly planned. A movie first time. Candles, pink lingerie, chaste kisses, exchanged I love yous.
It's messier than that, though. He had no way of anticipating how out of control of his own body he'd feel, how it would be to give control to someone and something else. To just let it happen, however it was supposed to happen.
"I'm glad it was me, too," Dan jokes.
Nate finds he doesn't regret it, not any of it.