Title: Half-Truths Taste Better Than Nothing At All
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Site: http://glimmershine.tripod.com
Pairing: Josh/Toby
Rating: R
Summary: The first time (sorta).
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Notes: one of jacklemmon's westwing_santa presents.


Half-Truths Taste Better Than Nothing At All by Michelle K.

It began when they were drunk. After all, they weren't gay, or even some variation.

(Because straight men always experiment with homosexuality after a few beers.)

In fact, that seemed to be all Josh could say. "I'm not gay," he stuttered, ignoring the fact that this would not be the first time he'd done this.

(Or even the second. Or twentieth.)

"Stop it," Toby snapped, and Josh froze, hands strangely placed on Toby's chest. "I meant the talking."

An awkward moment passed, one that Josh wanted to deflect with humor. But, somehow, Toby seemed less easy to deride when they were on the way to having sex.

Toby kissed him. Hard. Rough. The way he always thought Toby would.

(Not that he'd thought about it. Of course not.)

Beads of sweat formed on Josh's forehead as his hands went cold. Nerve shot dead by something that even Toby couldn't (over)protect him from, but it was Toby who said:

"Maybe we shouldn't do this."

"I'm fine," Josh said, though there were reasons other than his clammy hands to stop this before it got so out of control that they couldn't capture any semblance of reality.

(Because Josh did reason so well.)

"You're not." When Josh didn't respond, Toby turned it up a notch (or three). "This is...I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here."

"Well, it is your apartment." The humor was back, so maybe this meant they weren't dancing towards consummation of a (non-existent) relationship.

Or maybe yes, because they were back to the harsh kissing. Better suited to an anonymous back alley than a bedroom, particularly when both the participants were fully clothed. But it wasn't like he had(n't) done it before.

Josh unzipped Toby's pants, pushing his hand inside. He wrapped his fingers around Toby's erection, the quick movements of his wrist as unromantic as they were targeted, guaranteed to get Toby off. But when he accomplished this, it didn't seem like a victory.

(But it was still satisfying.)

Neither said anything afterwards, silenced by the mess on Josh's hand. Cleaning it up didn't make either of them any more verbose, but at least this wasn't something with which words were needed. Somehow, they finally did end up without clothes.

"I haven't done this in awhile," he said. (Lying in ways he would never consider with a woman.)

Josh ended up on his back, being filled with lube and latex. Toby made him come, creating a new mess to clean up.

(What they had would never be cleansed, soiled by what they refused to talk about.)

Josh left before Toby even pretended to fall sleep.


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