It's not like Sam had gone into the night intending to assault Sage with his dick.

     Truthfully, he'd gone into the night, intending to tell Sage to knock it off. You know, stop with the whole open shirts, bedroom eyes, bitten-red lips thing. Because it's downright distracting. That's how the night was supposed to go.

     Sam was supposed to turn to Sage and say, "Listen, buddy. We all get it. You're very pretty. But I'm gonna need you to be less pretty when you're around me. So sweats from here on out. Actually, no sweats. Jeans. Baggy jeans. Super unflattering jeans and lots of layers. No chest. Yes, I'm putting in clothing requests because you need to be wearing clothing around me at all times. There will not be another bathroom scene between us."

     Except that's not how it went at all and now Sage is gone and Sam's still on the floor, reeling. He needs to fix this, but he has no idea how to do that.

     He opens his messages, and types out these things happen? to Sage and then deletes it. He then tries sorry if my dick offended, but that's juvenile, so he deletes that, too. He stays on the floor thinking of a polite way to say sorry about the wood until he finally decides there is no polite way of apologizing for such a thing.

     Sam gets up and reaches down to pick up all the to-go containers, taking them to his little kitchenette so he can throw it out. It's late, but he's not tired. He's keyed up, but at least he's not buzzed anymore.

     He goes to the bathroom, turning the shower on. He starts taking his clothes off but stops suddenly, catching his reflection in the mirror. He presses his hands down on the sink as he leans in, not that he needs to get any closer to see the massive hickey on his throat.

     Sam traces the shape of it and feels his throat bob as he swallows. It's annoying, he thinks. How hooking up with Sage was probably the best he's ever had and it was just kissing. Tame kissing, even.

     He meets his own gaze in the mirror. In this lighting, his eyes are just brown. In most lighting, that's all they are, a buttery brown. Warm and light. Definitely one of his best attributes. The green hides a lot. Not many people even know it's there. But Sage knows.

     Sage also knows what Sam's dick looks like and what it feels like when it's hard in his lap. Sam sighs, pushing away from the counter to get into the shower. The water's too hot and he hisses, stepping out of the stream as he gets used to it.

     Sam spends the night trying to forget the night.

     When he wakes in the morning, he comes to the decision to pretend it never happened. So he had coerced Sage into kissing him and then had practically mounted him like a horse. Well. Worse things have happened. (Worse things have actually not happened, this was definitely the. worst.)

     And Sage had immediately bolted. Sam clearly offended him. He would have to apologize. They should probably go back to working in a public space, too. Keep things as distant and civil as possible without ruining the integrity of their work.

     He's not going to be able to avoid Sage completely but he can prolong running into him for as long as possible. Which is why when he hears a door open behind him just as he's stepping into the elevator, he doesn't even consider his actions, just turns, catching sight of a familiar blond head, and reaches over to aggressively tap the close doors button.

     But Sage, Sage takes off running down the hall, leaping forward to get a hand between the closing doors before it shuts. Sam moves to dive past him out of the elevator but Sage sees it coming and practically close-lines him. The air's punched out of Sam's lungs and he wheezes, keeling over.

     The door's close and he's stuck.

❧

     Sage is mad but not surprised. Surprised but not mad. A confusing and unnerving combination of the two feelings. Surprised that Sam had climbed into his lap last night and kissed him with a certainty that made Sage question everything (namely Sam's sexuality and where that left Sage.) He wasn't mad about the kissing.

     Sam freaking out and trying to avoid Sage was not at all surprising. And even though Sage knew that's how he was going to act it still hurt, it still angered him.

     Enough to reach over and hit every button on the elevator. Sam watches him do it with a sort of delayed reaction, screeching, "Hey!" But he bites the sound off with a yelp as Sage grabs his shoulders and shoves him up against the back wall.

     "If you try to close an elevator door on me again I'm going to punch you."

❧

     Sam looks up into Sage's eyes. "I dare you," he snaps, seething. His breath quickens and he wants to open his mouth to get more air in but then he's not breathing at all because Sage has sealed his mouth over his and Sam thinks that's it. It's over. He's not in charge anymore.

❧

     Sam opens for Sage, tilting his chin up into the kiss. Sage takes that as a good sign so he moves his hands from Sam's shoulders to his face, his hands covering his ears as his fingers dip into his hair.

     Sage is not completely there anymore, his mind and body disconnecting and reconnecting like wifi in a bad storm, trying to find service. He's here but he's also somewhere else completely, somewhere where all he does is this — kiss Sam and keep kissing him and only ever kiss him (ok maybe more than kiss him, too.)

     The elevator is opening and closing behind him as it stops at each floor. He's counting it, counting down to the moment he's going to have to pull away and face Sam.

     But when they get to the first floor, it's Sam who pulls away. He reaches up, taking Sage's hands and pulling them away from his face. Sage watches him do it and his eyes drop to his throat. Sage left a not-very-nice hickey on his neck and Sam's not even trying to hide it. His teeshirt has a low neck and he has his coat open. There's no missing it.

     "I've got to go to class," Sam says with Sage's hands still in his. Sage pulls them away, returning his arms to his sides.

     "Right," he says.

     "I'll see you in Olekev's, I guess," he says next, which is confusing. It's civil. It's not we've kissed twice and they both were mistakes but it's also not I really enjoyed that and want to do it again. Sage has no idea where he stands but he knows he's in Sam's way so he steps out of it and lets him pass.

     Thank god he's meeting Ruthie. He needs her perspective on this. It took every ounce of self control not to call her last night, not to just show up at her door.

     She's already at a table in Bluestone, two coffees present and Sage is grateful. He sits down, peeling his coat off his shoulders, letting it fall back on the chair.

     "Good morning Sunshine," she greets with a broad smile. "How was your Thanksgiving? I'm assuming you survived the parents?"

     Sage grimaces and Ruthie laughs.

     "Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad," she says as he takes a sip from his drink.

     After a large gulp, he says, "So do you want to hear about Sam and I standing in my bathroom completely naked first or Sam and I making out on his living room floor or Sam and I making out in the elevator literally ten minutes ago?"

     Ruthie's eyes are the size of saucers. "Oh my freaking yes please, I want to hear about it all. You should've called me immediately. Oh my god, oh my god, I'm freaking out. Please start talking."

     Sage heaves a breath and decides to start from the beginning, telling Ruthie about Sam jumping off of the ski lift and injuring his ankle. He tells her about them passing out on the couch together. And she interjects with, "Okay, I see, so the sexual tension was obviously building."

     "My whole family was playing devil's advocate, which didn't help," Sage says next.

     "What do you mean by that?" Ruthie asks.

     "Like, my mom with her little comments. And my aunts were there and D was like. She just — everyone was already convinced Sam and I were hooking up or whatever."

     "Ugh, I love D. Can we please do a brunch with her soon?"

     "Actually, come with me when I go see their new place," he responds and then goes, "So they were making all these comments. There was already this weird tension and then I accidentally — and I do mean truly accidentally — walked in on Sam as he was getting out of the shower. Very naked, a very naked Sam."

     Sage is imagining it again, remembering it really, and god now that the has kissed Sam and touched his face and tasted the salty base of his throat knowing what he looks like naked only makes him want to know what he feels like, too.

     "And then you ravaged each other?"

      "Not exactly. Sam nearly knocked himself unconscious on the door handle and to make things less awkward I decided to take my underwear off."

     Ruthie stares at Sage, her face pulled into a comical distress. "You are describing to me a movie scene, yes?"

     "This is my life."

      "Why did you think it would be less awkward to take your underwear off, Sage?" she asks, getting too loud that a man at the table next to them looks up from his kindle. Sorry she mouths to him before she goes, "And were things less awkward, Sage? Were they?"

      "I mean, they weren't more awkward. It was like. The playing field was even, you know. Which is important I think to Sam."

     "That the playing field be even? You both sound nuts."

     "I think that Sam would've felt like I'd done it intentionally to humiliate him otherwise."

     "Why would he think that?"

     "Because he always thinks I'm trying to humiliate him."

     "Hmm," Ruthie says thoughtfully. "Do you think he had some like horrific social experience?"

     Sage shrugs. "I don't know, maybe. Ever since I've known him he's always been a bit awkward in social settings. Like on guard."

     "Alright, so explain me to how you went from birthday suits in the bathroom to making out on his floor?"

     "Well. The bathroom thing nearly killed me, Ruthie. I'm not even trying to be dramatic about it. Sam being attractive wasn't news to me but having to actively acknowledge my attraction to Sam was—." Sage pauses and wonders if he should tell her about what he did after that. It's kind of embarrassing and definitely gross.

     But she's his best friend so he tells her anyway. "You know my room's attached to the shared bathroom, right?" Ruthie nods. She's been to Sage's home plenty of times to know this. Sage is partially reconfirming this as a way to say I wasn't trying to hear him, I wasn't trying to invade his privacy.

     He braces himself and then says, "Well I was in it that night and. I could hear...I could hear Sam." He makes a face, widening his eyes for emphasis.

     Ruthie gapes and then slaps a hand over her mouth. "No freaking way."

     "Yes freaking way."

     She moves her hand away, forcing a mouth into a frown as she lifts one shoulders. "I mean, that's hot."

     "Yeah, my thoughts exactly so I kind of." Sage tilts his head side to side trying to convey his message without actually saying it. "I, you know, too."

     "Noooo," she says. "Together?"

     "No, I stayed in the bathroom and just like listened. Without him knowing."

     "Oh my god, that's so dirty and hot. Tell me it gets hotter and dirtier please."

     Sage's whole face is flushed. He thinks about this morning in the elevator. Sam trying to close the door in his face and how he'd forced him against the wall. It definitely got hotter.

     "So we came back Saturday and we had to catch up on a ton of research so we agreed to meet Sunday at his place. Everything's fine, right, we did our work and we ordered take-out like we normally do. And we were drinking a little bit, but nothing crazy. But then Sam turned to me, kinda like leaned in like he was going to kiss me but not really. He probably could've played it off like he wasn't going to but then he goes for research purposes."

     Ruthie furrows her brows. "For research purposes?"

     "That's what I said and he was like you should let me kiss you for research purposes."

     "What does that mean exactly? What is he researching? If he's queer, if he's into you, if you guys have chemistry. Like what's the research?"

     "Your guess is as good as mine."

     "So what'd you say?"

     "Okay."

     Ruthie laughs. "And then he kissed you?" Sage nods. "Well, that's a good sign, right."

     "Not really. He got all cagey afterwards so I left and then this morning he tried to close the elevator on me so then I got pissed and shoved him against the wall and then I kissed him."

     "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Ruthie says. "The drama. The allure. The spice."

     "The confusion, the sexual frustration," Sage counters. "The will they, won't they."

     "Well they clearly will," Ruthie says.

     "Don't be so sure. Sam is—Sam is giving nothing away."

     "Look I can understand, and even respect, the need to be glass half empty with this and avoid getting your hopes up, but Sage, babes, no dude makes out with another dude twice just for research. This isn't research. This is data collection and he's going to report back."

     Ruthie is grinning at her little joke and Sage does feel hopeful, which is the problem.

❧

     Addressing things with Sage was not the solution to Sam's problem and now that he has kissed the boy twice, seen him naked once, and jerked off to the idea of him countless times, the idea of focusing in his class is a forgotten thing.

     Because his next class is with Sage. He's got less than an hour till he sees him, can sit next to him and breath in his cologne. He's going to take gulps of it, he's decided. He's going to drink it in till he's drowning. He tries to remember what Sage was wearing today but his coat was in the way so he has no idea, so he's left thinking about what Sage looks like naked, instead.

     Sam touches the center of his neck, tracing over the memory of Sunday night. He'd gotten a few looks for the mark already. He thought he was imagining it at first but then his professor had definitely stumbled on her words when she'd locked on Sam, quickly averting her gaze.

     Yes, Sam who has been practically sexless for the last four years is now getting some. Getting some from Sage Decourt. In elevators. Fuck, that is hot. Sam hadn't wanted to give it much thought but decidedly he is very much on board.

     He races to Olekev's but he doesn't beat Sage, who's sitting in the front row, same spot as always. His coat is off and hanging behind his chair. He's wearing a high-collared sweater. Sam's disappointed for all of two seconds until he gets close enough to see it's a quarter zip that Sage has left completely unzipped and it's oversized enough that it dips low and there's that chest he needs to get his mouth on.

     Sage glances up from his phone as Sam gets close. He tosses his bag into the chair two seats over from Sage and then sits right next to him, dropping into the chair with a casual disregard for personal space, brushing Sage's arm, all static electricity. Sam's going to combust.

     He turns to look at Sage and says, "Hey."

     Sage turns, too, confusion in his soft features. "Hey?"

     "What're you doing after this?" Sam asks a bit too urgently. He holds his breath to calm himself down as he waits for Sage's response.

     "Directly after? Nothing. But I've got a four-thirty class."

     Sam pauses, thinking, and then responds, "Alright, come by my place after."

     "After my four-thirty class?"

     "Yes," Sam says.

     "Come by your place?"

     "Yes," he repeats, wondering why this is such a concept for Sage.

     Sage hesitates and then asks, "But not for research?"

     "No, not for research."

     Sam does not pay attention at all. If he was going to combust before, he's going to bounce right out of his seat now. He's a rocket that's on countdown, that is T-Minus 10 away from bolting into space.

     And when class ends, he still has to wait, has to find something to fill the time between now and when Sage will get to his place. He changes and goes to the gym. It's a good distraction and he kills the rest of the afternoon enough that he has to race back to shower before Sage gets there.

     Sage is prompt, showing up at Sam's door before it's even six o'clock. Sam's freshly showered, in sweats, his hair dripping down the back of his neck, leaving dark spots on the shoulders of his gray teeshirt.

     He opens the door and Sage is standing there, his gaze questioning and curious, like he has no idea why Sam asked him there, which is crazy.

     Sam reaches out for his wrist, tugging Sage into his apartment. "So what's up?" Sage is asking as Sam skirts around him to close the door. Sage is turning to face him but Sam's impatient, grabbing his shoulder to turn him fully before he reaches up to cup the back of his neck and pull him in.

     Sam feels the door behind him and presses back against it, bringing Sage with him. He's moving with a little too much urgency and Sage can't keep up, stumbling into Sam's chest. Which is good. It's what Sam wants. Sage's chest is solid and warm. He's still in the quarter-zip and Sam lifts his other hand to patch of skin that's visible, tracing the dip at the bottom of his throat where the ends of his collar bones meet.

     Sam goes, "So are you going to kiss me or not?"

❧

     Sage does not need to be asked twice.

❧

     Oh god, Sam loves when he gets what he asks for. 

     Sage's mouth hovers over his, his breath pushing into his mouth, and he can feel it in his ribs. His tongue slips out, teasing Sam's upper lip till he gives in, opening up for Sage. Sage takes his whole mouth, slipping his tongue inside it, only keeping it there long enough for Sam to be reduced to soft, pitiful sounds before he pulls away.

     Sam is greatly displeased, and moves his hands to Sage's face trying to pull him back in but Sage dodges his mouth, turning his head so his nose is pressed in his cheek. "What were you researching?" he asks, his voice so low Sam nearly misses the question, could almost be convinced it wasn't even for him.

     For a second, he doesn't get the question but then he does and oh. He thought that was obvious. "If I'd like it," he says with a tone that suggests it is obvious. He tries to turn his mouth towards Sage's but he moves again, dragging his lips to Sam's ear. He bites his earlobe and Sam gasps.

     "And did you?" he asks, his tone hesitant.

     Sam would really like to knock some sense into Sage but he's a little preoccupied what with being pressed against a door. He invited the boy back to his apartment. How is this unclear?

     Sam takes his hand and drags it down between them, bringing it to his dick. He's not no-going-back hard but he's not soft, either. "Does that answer your question?" Sam asks his voice husky. Sage's hand on his junk is definitely bringing him towards no-going-back hard.

     "I think so, yeah," Sage says his voice an octave too high.

     "Can you go back to kissing me now?" Sam asks.

     Sage laughs, the sound quiet, vibrating against the side of Sam's neck. "So demanding," he whispers before he lifts his mouth back to Sam's.

❧

     The first kiss had been a tease and the second had been a fight but this one was a lesson, a lesson in control for Sage and a lesson in what Sam likes.

     What Sam likes: when Sage drags his teeth down the center of his neck.

     What Sam likes: when Sage slips his leg between his.

     What Sam likes: when Sage sucks on his tongue.

     Sage is taking notes because if he's going to do this, he's going to make it count and he's going to make it good for Sam. (It is so good for Sage he doesn't think he's ever going to recover, he's ruined for all other partners.)

     Sage likes discovering Sam's things, the things that make him moan, the things that make his nails dig into Sage's shoulders, the things that make him grind down on Sage's knee. He's building a case study on him in his head how to get Sam going but now he wants to know how to get Sam gone. If he's on an edge, he wants to bring him over it. (And if what he's feeling on his knee is any indication, he's definitely on an edge.)

     He pulls away and Sam follows his mouth so that Sage has to tilt his head down to avoid him, pressing his forehead against his. "Lift your arms up," he commands. And Sam listens, bringing his arms over his head. Sage grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head. "I'm going to touch you," he says next, his voice low and gritty.

     Sam whimpers, nodding his head. Sage kisses down his neck to his chest. Sam's chest is pumped, the muscles in his pecs tightening as Sage passes them, kissing down to his navel. He can feel it when Sam clenches his stomach, can hear the breath choke up in him. He hadn't really specified what he meant by touch him and maybe he should have but Sam's not stopping him.

     His hands come up his legs, passing over his knees, squeezing at his thighs. "Open your legs a bit," Sage says as he squats between them. Sam does but he's quiet so Sage looks up at him, his fingers hanging on the band of his sweatpants and asks, "Is this okay?"

     Sam nods.

     Sage teases the band. "Are you sure?"

     Sam tilts his hips towards Sage. "Yes, yes, please yes."

     That sounds nice. Sage thinks if he can always get Sam to beg for it that might be a Sage thing.

❧

     Sam thinks he was not having sex before. Whatever he was doing, had done, it'd been make believe. A figment of his imagination. Because this.

     He's not going to last any amount of time. With all the kissing and teasing, and the way Sage had spit into his hand and pulled him to attention for actual minutes, rubbing along his tip like it was some sort of magical orb he was trying to see into the future with. Dragging it all out so that when he finally put his mouth on Sam, Sam nearly crumbled, his knees buckling. Sage had to brace him against the door.

     It's too much and Sam doesn't have enough experience with it to feel in control. He is most definitely not in control.

     And then Sage grabs his hips, pulling Sam deep into his throat before releasing him. When he pulls away there's a line of saliva attaching him to Sam's dick and it shouldn't be as hot as it is. "Fuck into my mouth," Sage says looking up at Sam. He's moved to his knees and he could be praying if he bought his hands together but they're still clutching Sam's hips.

     "What?" Sam asks, sort of breathless, because he couldn't have heard him right and he's not sure that any of this is real anymore.

     "Fuck. Into. My. Mouth," Sage says again, enunciating each word before he takes Sam back into his mouth, sucking him down deep till he's in his throat.

     Sam listens because. Well, he doesn't know why he listens exactly he just knows that he likes it. It makes something burn in his chest when Sage tells him what to do. Makes the thing burn hotter when he listens.

     Not that it matters, really. He lasts maybe two seconds before he spills down Sage's throat and he's not sure if he should've warned him but Sage swallows anyway and if he didn't just cum that would certainly do it.

❧

     Sam slides down the door, his knees coming up to frame Sage. His sweatpants are bunched around his thighs and even though Sage just had his dick in his mouth, he can't stop staring at it, soft in his lap, wet with Sage's saliva. He hopes this is just a first and not a last because he hasn't gotten his fill.

     Sage sits back, his knees aching as he stretches his legs out under Sam's knees so their legs are folder over each other's. He meets Sam's gaze nervously, but Sam's not looking at his face, he's staring at his lap. Sage glances down, embarrassed at the wet spot in his jeans. He's not surprised by it and it wasn't an accident, he let himself go, but it still makes him feel a bit juvenile. Maybe it says more about Sam, though, that he didn't even need to get his dick out to orgasm.

     Like look Sam, look what you do to me.

     Sam clears his throat and Sage glances up. They lock eyes and he's bracing for the biting remark, the this isn't happening again or the you should leave now.

     "Do you wanna to go to Chipotle or something?"

     Sage lets out a heavy breath and smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, let me go change first."

     Sam nods, reaching up for the door handle to pull himself up. He holds his hand out to Sage as he uses the other to pull his sweatpants back up. "I'll meet you in the hall in ten?" he asks, stepping out of the way of the door.

     "Yeah," Sage says trying to keep his tone even. His heart is jack rabbiting. He needs to sit down and dissect this.

     He goes back to his apartment and is so disoriented he scares himself with the painting on his easel by the windows. Fuck. He forgot he left that out. It's nowhere near done, just a base of browns, of warm honey hues. He could paint right now. With everything he's feeling still thrumming through his veins, washing all his cells in a sex-haze.

     But there's Chipotle. With Sam.

     Sage cleans himself up and gets dressed, different jeans, same sweater, his coat and wallet. He meets Sam by the elevator doors. Sam's still in the sweats but he was wearing but he put on an oversized brown bomber jacket and a plaid scarf around his neck. The Chipotle isn't far but Sage thinks he'll be cold. It's brick outside.

     The elevator ride is quiet but not tense. The walk to Chipotle is the same. They don't actually talk until they're seated at a booth. Sam got a burrito the size of his head, stuffed with quite genuinely everything on the menu. Sage got a bowl and a tortilla on the side that he's peeling and using like a fork. He paid for their meals and Sam hadn't fought him on it. He's not sure if that makes this a date.

     "You always do that," Sam says suddenly, nodding with his chin at Sage's bowl.

     "Do what?" Sage asks, his heart fluttering in his throat. God, he needs to chill. This is casual. There's nothing sketchy about it. Just two guys having Chipotle. One of them maybe ate the other's dick thirty minutes ago. But not in a we're dating sort of way.

     "Eat like a five year old," Sam answers with a laugh. There's enough of a teasing note to his voice that Sage takes it as less of an insult and more an observation. "You pick at your food," he explains next. "Like your breakfast sandwiches. You always peel everything off and eat it separately."

     "Yeah, I don't know," Sage answers, face warming because Sam's noticed this about him. "I think food tastes better that way."

     "I mean, it definitely doesn't change the way the food tastes."

     "Yeah, but in my head it does," Sage responds tapping his temple.

     Sam is biting back his grin, hiding it behind his burrito. "Well, so long as it does in your head."

     They quiet and Sage is drawn to looking at him, eyes darting along his face and neck, back to the mark he's left on his neck. He likes it, likes that it says his. Sam is not his but he lets himself pretend for a moment.

     "So," Sam says pausing to drink from his water cup. Sage watches and feels his nerves pitch again. He's on edge. Feels like the shoes about to drop. "New proposal."

     "New proposal?" Sage repeats.

     Sam gives him a look. "Please don't repeat everything I say. Just listen. Instead of the civil classmates truce, I think we should be more than civil."

     Sage opens his mouth ready to repeat back more than civil? Because what does that even mean but he stops himself and goes instead, "And what would that entail exactly?"

     "It would entail what just happened in my apartment an hour ago."

     "So what you're saying is you want sex?" Sage asks.

     "Yes," Sam says definitively. Sage likes this about him, that when Sam knows something he doesn't hesitate. There's no beating around the bush. Don't ever take for granted a person who can answer a question with a simple yes or no. There's nothing left for interpretation.

     Sam goes, "We're civil classmates who are also having sex."

    And that is. That is not really what Sage thought he meant. But it's better than nothing.