Scott/Wallace

Wallace hadn’t really had to debate about kicking Scott out, as cruel as that might have sounded.  For one, the guy was capable of sustaining himself, he just needed a good kick in the ass to do it.  He’d find a way to…not die.
The other reason was damn, having a psychic boyfriend kicked -ass-.  Sure, now and then the fact that Mobile could map his entire body and do everything at once made him miss fucking Stacey Pilgrim’s innocent and oh-so-naïve boyfriends out of the closet, but…the guy was fucking -psychic-. And had glasses.  While being exclusive was sort of a jump for him, it seemed like the relationship was working out more than nicely.

On the other hand, he never knew when Mobile was telling him the whole story, and could only assume he wasn’t when he left an unopened condom and a small bottle of warming lubrication on the bedside table before starting his projection on the couch in the living room one morning.  Wallace wasn’t supposed to call him during work and the connection usually sucked there anyway, so he was left there wondering what the two items meant.
A little after he got back from work, Scott texted him, sounding incredibly pathetic.  By the time Wallace was able to discern the message surrounded by the garbled text talk and miscellaneous letters that didn’t belong, he heard a thump and a groan against the door.

Mobile was working overtime (or intentionally giving him some space, he couldn’t tell all that well sometimes) and it was late.  He opened the door, prepared for Scott more or less falling on to him.  “Oh, poor baby.” He cooed, ruffling Scott’s hair and pulling him inside.  He settled him on an armchair next to the couch…it was sort of creepy with Mobile lying there motionless, but he’d gotten used to it and hopefully Scott was too tired to notice and start poking him or something.
Wallace quickly threw a blanket and slippers at him, dumping some canned clam chowder into a pot and starting to set it to a boil.  This motherly stuff came naturally, especially when Scott was in one of these helpless states.  No one could deny that the guy was a douche, but he wasn’t garbage.
He started to get out the milk and Ovaltine for hot chocolate when he heard another groan from the armchair Scott was currently reclining in.
“What is it?”
“Wmn scccot.”
Scott’s chin was buried in his scarf, a baleful look in his eyes.  While Wallace didn’t exactly appreciate his houseguests vaguely mumbling their requests and looking right through him, he put a hand to his ear and cocked his eyebrow.
“-What-?”
“Scotch, Wallace, I know you have some scotch.  What do you call them when you warm them up? Knockies or something?”
 He sniffed and wiped a glob of snot from his fulcrum.  Wallace tossed a roll of paper towels at him with a roll of his eyes.
“Its called toddy, and while it’s very good for sickies like you, I’m not sure you can handle scotch when you can barely keep down your beer.” Wallace said with a snort.
“Ugh, Wallace.” Scott moaned.  “Just givitame.  It can’t be that stro-o-a-ACHOO!...ong-!” He insisted, punctuating his sentence with a loud sneeze.

Wallace huffed, putting away the hot cocoa ingredients and pouring some water into a teapot, reaching for the honey and his measly teabag collection.  Mobile was a tea-drinker, but he kept them in a separate cabinet and forbid Wallace to touch them.  Something about putting him in a permanent coma if he made the tea too strong, but he’d promised to brew up something weaker for him using the special mixture sometime.  “You want thai, puer, green…”
“Justh give me whatever.” Scott choked through a sniff.
“It goes in the toddy, and use your tissues.” Wallace responded, pointing at the other accusingly before conceding, getting out the scotch and pouring it into a coffee mug, then spooning in the honey.  The soup was done quickly, and Wallace served it on a small coffeetable, not trusting Scott to hold the mug it came in when his hands were all bunched up in a blanket.

“So…Ramona still not back yet, huh guy?” He called over his shoulder as the hot water started to boil, pouring it into the mug over the teabag before bringing it over to where Scott was simultaneously eating and moping.
	“No.  Gideon-cat’s gone too.  I locked myself out today.” Scott replied, voice garbled slightly by the chowder he was spooning into his mouth.
“So you have…no place to live, at the moment.  Didn’t try calling her?” Wallace asked, leaning down on one knee and resting his elbow on his knee, his cheek in one hand.
	“My charger’s in there.  Her house, I mean.” He continued.  “My cell-phone charger.  I didn’t want to call her and waste batteries…she doesn’t always pick up.” Scott said, staring into the half-empty bowl of soup and mashing a piece of potato on the side.  “So I texted you.”
“You mean you mashed a bunch of numbers on your phone and sent it to me.” Wallace said, trying to coax at least an uncomfortable smile out of Scott.  He couldn’t help but feel slightly flattered that he was the first person Scott came to, even if it didn’t exactly speak well of his judgment.
	“I was wearing gloves, okay?” Scott snapped without any venom.  “My ass is freezing…its cold as hell out there.  Or the Arctic.  Or Chile.”
Wallace suppressed a “snrk”, disguising it with a cough.  “You didn’t try calling your folks?”
“They think I’m a loser already.  Lemme try this Toddy Knockie stuff.” Scott said, raising it up quickly and pushing the bowl of chowder aside.  Wallace quickly grabbed his wrist.  “Hey hey, guy…it doesn’t taste like melted butterscotch or whatever you think it tastes like, it’s pretty strong.  Take it slowly, don’t knock it back.”
	“Okay, okay.” Scott insisted, slowly drawing the mug to his lips.  He sniffed at it, took a small sip, made a face and took a larger one.  “…It burns.”
“Isn’t that a good thing, though?” Wallace asked with a smile.  “Need some more honey?”
	“No…it’s good, actually.”

Scott managed to drink the whole mug.  Soon after, he kicked off his blanket and removed his winter jacket and gloves, running his hands through his greasy hair.
Wallace had to admit, he was having to reign himself back quite a bit.  Getting Scott drunk and fooling around a bit had always been sort of a fantasy of his, but he knew it wouldn’t feel right.  Scott had a girlfriend, he had a boyfriend.
“Why’d she leave me?  Y’think she went back to Gideon…?”
	“Shh shhhuhsh.  Don’t think about it right now.”
“But Wall-acce…”
	“Oh, don’t be such an infant.”
And oh, it was so hard to keep himself from egging Scott on.  –Yeah, she left you, she’s probably not coming back, get over it.  Oh, sorry guy, that came out a little harsh…want me to kiss it better?  Your bruised ego, I mean.-
“…And you know, I beat up all her boyfriends for her…I mean, I loved her man…so why’d she go?  What’s with these girls?  I beat up their emotional baggage and they just…ugh.”
Oh hell-o.
“You mean Ramona just-ugh.  Can’t really blame your other lady friends, though…come on, Scott, the girl’s mood changed like her hair color.  If you want to go after her…if you –really- love her, be my guest, but honestly, I don’t know how to help you with your girl problems.


“Why can’t she just be…like Kim?  No…like a guy?  Kim moved away…” Scott slurred drunkenly.  Wallace clicked his tongue and shrugged, artfully covering the crotch of his pants just in case before looking back at Mobile…just a quick glance.
“Your boyfriend dead or something?”
Well shit.
“No, he’s projecting…complicated stuff.” Wallace said.  “He usually just sort of gets up and starts making dinner, it scared the shit out of me when I saw it for the first time…” He rattled on.
Scott snorted.  “…Looks like he left you a present.”
“A what?”
“The…uhrr…” Scott paused, stretching languidly and adjusting himself, stripping off his shirt and revealing a slightly hairy chest flushed and sweaty with inebriation.  “The condom and the tube of lube…haw.” He chuckled at his stupid little rhyme.

“I don’t think he left those there for me…” Wallace mumbled, trailing off.  Why the hell –had- Mobile left him a condom and lube?  They didn’t use condoms any more, they were both clean, tested and everything (even though Mobile had insisted he could tell).  Besides that, Mobile hated that tacky warming lube.  It just didn’t make –sense-.
--zip—
Wallace turned around at the sound of Scott unzipping his zipper.  Seemed like he was shrugging off his pants to get comforta-
OH

Wallace got up, walking over to the condom and turning it over.  On the back of the foil casing was a sticky note in Mobile’s neat, clinical handwriting.
-“Aren’t you glad I think of these things?  Don’t get cum in your eye.  I’ll be back when you’re done.
(PS.  Apparently he loves getting his shoulder nibbled.)
(PPS. He’s clean.)
~Mobile.”-

“What’re you lookin’ at over there?” Scott slurred from the armchair.  “Hey, can you make me another Oddy Knocky?”

“I think one’s enough, guy…” Wallace murmured, turning the condom over in its plastic casing and pocketing the lube.  He strode over to Scott, who seemed more bemused than intimidated.   “
“My pants are stuck ‘cause my legs are all sweaty…” He informed.  “Ramona could have helped me with that, we always pulled each other’s boots off after walking in the snow and our socks would get stuck and we would laaaaugh…”

“Screw Ramona.” Wallace responded, helping Scott with his pants.  Once he got them down, he followed the note to the letter and fastened his lips to Scott’s bared shoulderblade.
Fuck, if Mobile was here right now he could back him up with his Freudian Jungian…behavioral study stuff.  It would be so confusing Scott would just have to concede and let Wallace have his way with him.  ‘Oh yeah Scott according to your brain waves and endocrine levels from a conclusive study of last week it seems you totally wouldn’t care if Wallace Wells spontaneously fucked you in the ass and in fact would very much like him to do so.’  Yeah, that’s how it would go.

“What’re you doing…?” Scott mumbled, squirming slightly.  “Hey man, I’m straight…-ooogh…”
“No one’s denying you’re straight.” Wallace said so huskily he surprised himself, kneading Scott’s clothed bulge with one hand.  The one rule he’d lived by while Scott had been his roommate was –don’t go too far-.  Sure, he was sort of a party gay, but he had his limits and he respected Scott’s, though snapping the waistband of his boxers and drunkenly humping him now and then had seemed to be okay.
Was this okay?  It seemed to be, considering Mobile had basically given him the go-ahead rather than leaving him a note that said -“Wallace Wells you stop that business right now, don’t even –think- about it because it’ll destroy your relationship forever and I’ll be angry with you.”-

“How’d you find my one weakness?” Scott moaned, arching his back slightly.  Wallace let out a muffled chuckle, pulling back and running a hand through Scott’s hair, tangling in the shaggy tuft at the back of his head.  “-One- weakness?  I can infer you have at least a couple more.” He snorted, lowering himself down again to suck at his Adam’s apple.
“Wellyeah…” Scott breathed.  “I mean…Ramona didn’t even find that…”
“Shut up, guy.” Wallace mumbled into Scott’s collarbone, leaning back again and resting his hands loosely on the other’s shoulders.  He was now straddling Scott expertly, making sure to not put too much weight on him.  “Look…you’ll work the whole Ramona thing out.  You’ll get your closure.  Just relax and enjoy this.”
“Closure…yeah, that sounds okay…” Scott mumbled, and Wallace knew he didn’t know what it meant, but at least he seemed to appreciate it.  “Wallace, couldja do that shoulder thingy again…?”
Wallace obliged, edging down Scott’s underwear and standing up, toeing it down the rest of the way with one foot while bracing himself on the armchair with one hand.  He wrapped his hand around Scott’s member, rolling down the foreskin slowly with his thumb.  Detaching himself from his shoulder, he trailed down his chest, pinching a nipple quickly and running his hands down his ribs before they settled at his hips.  He held his member in one hand, nose and cheek rubbing against it before he took one of his balls in his mouth, laving it with long swipes of his tongue.  Scott’s entire body shivered and he gasped shamelessly, muttering drunken nonsense and spreading his legs slightly.  Wallace slowly peeled back more of his foreskin as his cock became more erect, running his tongue up the shaft before taking the reddened head into his mouth, gently massaging his balls with his other hand.
“Shit Wallace…shit shit shit shit…” Scott breathed somewhere above him.  Due to the alcohol and the fact that he’d probably never gotten a blowjob before, he was already close by the time Wallace was able to deepthroat him.  The angle was horrible for this sort of thing, but he was able to swallow down his gag reflex enough to get Scott’s cock pretty deep, with only a few tears at the corners of his eyes to show for it.  Feeling the male’s cock twitch, he closed his mouth over the tip and heard Scott hiss out something unintelligible.  A couple spurts hit the rough of his mouth and he removed himself from the male’s member, wiping the excess spend off his lips with his index finger.  “See, now how did you-“ he started before Scott let out another spurt, hitting him right in his bottom eyelid and dangerously close to his left  eye.  “Ffff!  Fucker!” He cursed, before laughing, wiping his eyelashes and cheek clean quickly with a piece of Scott’s unused paper towel.  “You…you hit me right in the eye!” He choked out, and couldn’t really be angry because in all fairness, Mobile –had- warned him, and the entire idea was just so hilarious.  “It s-stings…!” He chuckled through his laughter.

Scott frowned blearily, clumsily trying to help Wallace clean his face.  “Oh man…sorry man, sorry, I didn’t mean to…Christ, that was amazing…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Wallace insisted.  “My eye red or anything?  No?”
When Scott shook his head, Wallace nodded, starting to remove his own jeans.  His member was half hard and tenting his red boxers, so he shoved them down to his knees.  He ripped the condom package open, pinched the tip and rolled it over his member, taking out the tube of lubrication and squeezing out a dollop on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the mixture a little.  He coated his hand with it and started to pump his member, applying a liberal amount to the already pre-lubed before taking the hand he had used and carefully starting to finger Scott, circling his finger around the ring of muscles.
“Okay, Wallace, I –really- don’t know about this, I mean, I’m not...”
“Just trust me, okay?” Wallace breathed.  “You’re going to feel a lot better after this.  No strings attached or anything, no kinky stuff…just trust me.”
He ran his clean hand through his hair, smoothing the strands down and pressing his finger inside, a second soon following.  Scott was winging and whining, unsurprisingly, but after a few moments of quiet reassurance and hair-stroking he relaxed enough for Wallace to add a third finger.
“Calm down, Scott, my penis is like a fucking lube sandwich with lube on top of lube with a side of lube, you’ll be fine.”

“No strings attached?  You don’t tell Ramona if we get back together?”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul.” Wallace reassured him, carefully bringing Scott’s legs up on to his shoulders.  He thought of saying something like ‘Sit back and enjoy the ride’, but figured it couldn’t help or hurt the situation at this point.  So he spread Scott’s cheeks, readied his member and slowly starting to push inside, watching for Scott’s reactions.
Scott bit his lip and tensed up at the initial push, so Wallace waited until he relaxed, sharing the excess lubrication between his hands and massaging Scott’s chest.  Soon the smaller figure let himself sink into the cushions, and Wallace pushed in a little more, now and then steadying Scott’s legs on top of his shoulders so they wouldn’t fall off.  Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead as he gripped at Scott’s buttocks, lifting him up slightly for a better angle and aiming for his prostate.

“Fu-u-uck, Wallace…!”

Wallace pinned his lip between his teeth, wondering why this suddenly felt so much harder than his regular impromptu fucks with guys who thought they were completely heterosexual.  He was following the entire formula: The hands in the hair, the massaging, the lube sandwich, the constant reassuring that no, this wasn’t necessarily –not- straight.
Maybe it was because Scott wasn’t wearing glasses, or because they’d been roommates only a month or so ago.  Or perhaps it was the niggling fear that maybe Mobile had set this up…maybe he was –testing- him.
Wallace swallowed harshly, pushing the thought to the backburner with another thrust inside Scott, licking his top lip as perspiration made it moist.  Scott was gasping and crying out at this point, and there was nothing Wallace liked better than to make his partner happy, so he just kept doing what he was doing.  Scott was far gone and fully hard by the time fifteen minutes had passed, face flushed and eyes glassy as he was thrust backwards against the fabric of the armchair.  His hands were bracing him against the back of the armchair’s arms while Wallace started to jerk him off, if only to get rid of the remnants of that tacky, gluey lube.  A few minutes later, Scott cried out something unintelligible (could have been ‘Ramoawallace’) and released on to Wallace’s chest.  The resulting clenching was enough to make Wallace cum with a hiss and a grunt, squeezing Scott’s left buttock with one hand while the other squeezed his penis lightly, milking the last of his release out.
Wallace thankfully had the foresight to brace himself on the arms of the chair rather than falling on Scott.  He was huffing full-out, face flushed with exertion and panting.  It took a few moments for him to tear himself out of the afterglow and look at the clock.  Almost eleven.

He grabbed the tissue that was still lying crumpled on the coffee table, cleaning himself off in broad swipes before daubing slightly at the head of Scott’s penis to clean him off as well.  Pulling himself out of the other male completely, he peeled off the wet snakeskin of a condom, holding it with his thumb and forefinger before dropping it into one of the crevices of the tissue, crumpling it up and walking over to the wastebasket as he pulled his boxers and pants back up.  He threw it out and walked quickly back over to Scott, searching his face for any instant regrets or sudden guilt.  Fortunately, Scott seemed content…happy, even, lying against the armchair with his pants in a crumpled mess beneath him and his boxers around his ankles.

Wallace couldn’t think of much to say, so he smiled grimly and started to pull Scott’s boxers up, knowing he was too tired for a shower.  He replaced his pants, letting the guy piece together his bearings before grabbing a chair from the formica counter and sitting down in front of him.

“Feel better after getting fucked silly?”

Scott let out a sigh, folding his arms behind his head and letting his tongue poke the inside of his cheek in thought, eyes rolling skyward in a moment of quiet introspection.

“I’m not going to expect a professional monologue, just tell me if you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah…” Scott mumbled.  “I…I do feel better about all this.”

“Now listen.” Wallace said, putting his hands on Scott’s shoulders.  “You can stay here for the night, of course, and maybe another after that, but tomorrow I want you to call your parents.  They’ll be able to help you with this sort of thing, okay?  Trust me.”

“Call my parents…” Scott repeated before yawning.  “Can I just sleep here…?”

“Not if you want to wake up with a stiff neck.” Wallace chuckled.  “I’ll get the futon.  Remember the futon?”

“Yeah…I remember.” Scott murmured.

Wallace clapped Scott’s shoulder before standing up and walking over to the couch.  He gathered Mobile up as gently as possible, carrying him over with some straining to the bed they shared and laying him down on one side, removing his peacoat and putting his glasses on the bedside table.  He searched his face for a moment, looking for any sign of him waking up, then got up again to go to the now-empty couch.  He fixed up the futon quickly, stretching a coversheet over the mattress and throwing Scott’s blanket over it before helping Scott over, taking off his shoes, jacket and scarf.
“Get a good night’s sleep.” He said firmly, turning off the light.  It only took Scott a few seconds to drop off, and only when he was fast asleep did Wallace unzip his pants and remove his shirt, wearing only his boxers when he got into bed next to Mobile.

He was a little spooked when the other male turned over and kissed him on the shoulder, tensing up before letting out a short sigh.
“You’re welcome.” Mobile murmured.  Wallace sputtered.

“So it wasn’t a-“
“I wasn’t testing you.”
 “Then you’re n-“
“I’m not angry.”
“And you-“
“I’m not breaking up with you.” Mobile responded, before smiling.  “Relax.”

“Why, then?” Wallace asked.  “You just didn’t mind?” He asked, before lying back and groaning.  “I wish I knew how your brain works…”

“I want you to be healthy and have peace of mind.” Mobile murmured into his shoulder, tracing nonsense patterns on Wallace’s back.  “Maybe letting your id run rampant is a little extreme, but I felt that letting you fulfill one of your fantasies would strengthen our relationship.  Suppression is only a good defense mechanism in the short term…

“Ugh, so clinical.” Wallace sighed, turning over to kiss Mobile on the forehead.  “I wish my Psychology 101 teacher sounded like you, though…would have paid much better attention.”
He yawned, smiling sleepily.  “So this whole thing was one big therapy session to you?” He teased.  “I feel like you’re too good for me sometimes.”

It was nearing midnight, and the discussion soon changed to soft murmurs, though the vein was hitched on Wallace’s continuing curiosity.
“…You sure you’re not going to break up with me using telekinesis or something…?”
“For the last time, Wallace…” Mobile sighed.  “I’m not chaining you up or trying to trick you just because we’re dating.  We can talk about this stuff tomorrow if you’re still worried.  Now, it’s bedtime.  Good night.”
Wallace let Mobile kiss him goodnight and turn over on to his side, blinking before letting out a sigh and closing his eyes as well.  “…Night.”
---

Scott faded into wakefulness the next morning, head pounding and body sluggish.  It took him a few minutes to realize what had happened, and was surprised at how okay he was with the whole thing.
He heard the rustling of blankets and watched as Wallace’s European psychic boyfriend sat up, rested his cheek in his hand and fixed him with a deadpan expression.  It was rather disturbing, the guy having such an intense gaze as Wallace dozed peacefully beside him with his arms wrapped around his waist.
Scott stared back at him without blinking until the male raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and got back under the covers.  “If you want your girlfriend to peg you, you should just ask her.”

What the fuck was that all about?  Oh yeah.  Psychic.

“Uh, good morning to you too.” Scott said, getting up and stretching his back until he heard a crack.  He looked over at the kitchen, then back at Wallace.  How many times had the other cooked bacon for him?  How hard could bacon be?  You couldn’t mess –that- up, right?

He heard a muffled “Make sure you read the directions instead of fucking around,” from the bed, and steeled himself, looking for the cheapest bacon he could find in the fridge in case he accidentally burned it.

Of his own volition, he believed, he promised himself to call his parents that day.

-END-