Gale/Randy RPS
NC-17
“I didn’t know you could sing…”
“Yeah, well.”
“But shit, Rand, I mean you can really sing.”
“They put me on Broadway, didn’t they?”
“Amazing…” Gale trails off. He ponders the recording he listened to over and
over again today, this three minute clip of Randy singing in a Broadway show he
did last summer. He’s ashamed he didn’t get over to New York to
see it live. He’s more ashamed it’s taken him an entire season of filming to
ask Randy for the recording.
“Is that where you’ll go when we’re done?” Gale lifts his head and looks at
Randy.
“New York?”
“I mean the stage I guess, Broadway. You could you know…the exclusive little
shits would take you even after all this,” Gale gestures to their surroundings,
the studio lot where they’ve filmed mediocre soft porn for five years. “You’re
talented enough for them to overlook it.”
Randy shuffles his feet, sucks in the last puff of his cigarette, looks around
the totally empty parking lot, blacker than night save for one big, bad pickup
truck and one bright yellow convertible Bug. What the fuck was Simon thinking?
The thing looks like some mobile lemonade stand. God. Randy guesses it was a
nice gesture, and in the same beat plans to fake an accident before he goes
back to New York in a few weeks. Doesn’t know how else
to get rid of the thing and not upset his very sweet boyfriend. The one who
remembered Randy saying, in the middle of a rambling drunken stupor over two
years ago, that Bugs were really pretty cute little cars.
Randy forgets the car and remembers the man standing beside him, “You’ll move
on too, do other things, become more than this.”
Gale sighs. “Maybe not. Too old, too average, too over it. You were born to all
of this, even if you hate it now. Being on stage’ll bring it all back for
you…remind you why you wanted to act. I could do some b-grade, but it’s
pointless really. Maybe I’ll go back to photography. Always did like it.”
“Invest wisely,” Randy jokes and elbows Gale a little to lighten the moment.
They have made some money doing this. Sold their souls a little to pay the
bills. Some days it bothers them, some days it doesn’t.
This was their last day on set together, they’d wrapped the final season of
filming for the television show they’d single-handedly, though unintentionally,
turned into an international phenomenon. The weight of that affected them both
for a long time, but they’d moved past that now. It was a job, a job with an
expiration date that had been much anticipated by both men. The only sadness
you find behind their eyes now has nothing to do with anything but each other.
“Can we be done with the serious shit now, what the fuck are you gonna do this
summer?” Randy lights another cigarette, offering Gale one too. He always quit
the second the show went into summer hiatus, but started up again as soon as
his plane touched down in Toronto. He wonders if
he’ll be able to quit for good this time. He wonders if he’ll ever come back to
visit Toronto.
“I have a couple projects lined up. They’re fine, I’ll be fine.”
Randy lets out a genuine laugh. Gale’s whole world seems better for a moment.
Then the slow burning ache in the core of his gut returns. It’s the ache of
longing.
“So you wanna grab a beer?”
Randy smiles, “Yeah, that’d be good.”
“My place?”
“Isn’t it all packed up?”
“Nah, I’ll be here a few more weeks,” Gale looks over Randy’s shoulder into the
distance.
”You’ll what?” Randy swivels his head to look at Gale.
“Change of plans.” Gale shrugs and pretends that his decision to stay in Toronto a
while longer has absolutely nothing to do with Randy’s having to stay in Toronto a
while longer.
“But why?” Randy’s cheeks are suddenly red.
“I just wasn’t ready to…fuck I don’t…don’t worry about it.”
“God, did you…are you,” Randy starts and stops and shifts his feet. He turns
and heads to his car, “I’ll meet you there,” he throws over his shoulder.
The knock on the door comes thirty minutes after Gale gets home. He waited ten
minutes, decided Randy wasn’t coming, took his clothes off and grabbed a beer.
He’s been on his balcony overlooking the city for at least fifteen minutes when
the knock startles him.
He shakes his head. Randy can be so strange.
Gale throws open the door open to reveal Randy standing there, brown bags in
hand, cheeks beautifully flushed, all smiles.
**
Gale and Randy had had sex almost immediately. After a week on set, nearly all
of it spent naked and rolling around in a bed together, the first time they got
drunk it just sort of happened. Gale fucked Randy in the bed of his truck after
they’d polished off a fifth of Beam to celebrate making it through their first
week of work.
It was rushed, needy sex that left them both raw and shuddering. They’d cleaned
up and parted ways, unable to make eye contact for days. That first experience
deterred them from touching each other without ten other people in the room for
a long time. Something about it was too familiar, and yet too overwhelming.
Time went on, as time always does, and to their mutual surprise they became
good friends. Gale was quiet and Randy was strange and they were both intensely
private. They didn’t really get on well with anyone else they worked with, so
it was natural they spent a lot of time playing cards and drinking beers in
each other’s trailers.
At the start of the second season they started sleeping together again, or
rather for the first time. The botched attempt the year before had just been an
accidental fuck, so it didn’t really count, but what started 14 months later
was definitely not an accident and it definitely did count, or so Gale thought.
The moment their relationship shifted was almost imperceptible. After a normal
day of shooting they had long, slow, perfect sex after getting buzzed and
little high at Gale’s place. Their bodies fit together and nothing about it was
awkward. In fact it was so right they kept on doing it for the rest of the
season of shooting. Gale even thought, in a few silent moments, that he might
be falling in love.
Randy didn’t feel the same.
At the end of filming the second season they’d gone off to their respective
projects, a chaste kiss at the airport and no promises (Gale didn’t think they
needed them, he didn’t see why anything had to be different when they got
back). But when they arrived back in Toronto the
following fall Randy had a little extra luggage.
Gale tried to kill himself, sort of, the night Randy asked him to join he and
his boyfriend for dinner. But then a week later the boyfriend went back to New
York after Toronto had, apparently, passed his
inspection.
Gale started to be able to breathe again. But just barely.
Gale and Randy never talked about not sleeping together anymore, but it hung in
the air between them heavy and aching and begging for someone to say something
about it. Anything. But, neither of them ever did.
**
“D’you think we’ll keep in touch?” Randy slurs a little, he’s had four beers
and is a lightweight.
“Mmm, we’re pretty close,” Gale turns on the couch to get a better look at
Randy.
“Yeah,” Randy nods, “we are I guess.”
“I like you better than anyone I’ve ever met.” Gale hates when alcohol makes
him this honest. He hates that something that happened between them a hundred
years ago still smarts like it was yesterday.
Randy’s eyes get a little wide as he methodically peels the label of his bottle
of Stella. Gale takes the silence and the classic form of sexual frustration on
Randy’s part as his cue to continue. “I do you know, better than anyone, ever.”
Randy’s eyes flutter, he looks at Gale for a moment and then stares straight
ahead, unblinking. “Yeah, I know.” Randy sighs.
The room stays quiet for minutes on end. Gale can feel the air get thicker and
warmer with each passing second. “I need to kiss you,” he announces before
sliding up beside Randy and putting his hand on the back of Randy’s neck in
order to guide their mouths together.
“Okay,” Randy says in a near-gasp just as Gale’s tongue finds his way up toward
the roof of his mouth and over the backs of his teeth.
Gale thinks Randy tastes like hops and sugar, he could get drunk on the taste.
Randy’s always tasted better than anyone Gale has ever kissed. Randy used to
chew gum or suck mints before they had to film sex scenes. After they started
sleeping together Gale asked Randy not to do that anymore. Gale said he’d be
more turned on if he could taste Randy instead of the peppermint. He was right.
Gale pushes and pulls on Randy’s t-shirt, threading the worn cotton through his
fingers. He lets his thumbs rub circles on Randy’s hipbones and gasps when
Randy responds by thrusting his pelvis forward.
Gale feels his lips swell and sting beneath Randy’s teeth as he concentrates on
the bead of sweat rolling down his spine. Suddenly, Randy places firm hands to
Gale’s chest and pushes him back against the couch, gasping for air and licking
his sore lips.
“Jesus,” he pants a little as he sits up and rights his t-shirt.
“Yeah,” Gale nods and waits.
“I don’t know,” Randy shakes his head and stands up. Gale doesn’t think the
standing up can possibly be good.
“I just don’t, I can’t, I’m not sure…” Randy can’t find the words to tell Gale
that this is a bad idea.
“Don’t. Don’t overanalyze and think about ramifications, fall out, aftermath,
whatever. Just do this with me.” Gale’s voice gets weak toward the end. He
fucking hates that anyone has ever made him feel this way. Hates that it’s some
kid he used to think was a smart-mouthed brat.
Randy shakes his head a little and searches Gale’s face. “You know I can’t
check my emotions at the door,” Randy turns to walk out the door but stops
short of leaving, “Tell me why you want to do this when it’ll only tear us both
up.” Randy rocks on his feet but doesn’t turn around to face Gale.
“I might not ever love anyone else,” Gale opens his mouth and the words pour
out and they shock him probably even more than they shock Randy.
Randy turns slowly, eyes wide. He starts to say something, but Gale stops him.
He presses Randy against the wall and slides a thigh between his legs. He uses
the weight of his body to hold Randy still as he trails his tongue over his
collarbone and up his pale neck. He ends at Randy’s mouth, breathing heavy and
warm over ripe red lips.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” Gale breathes onto Randy’s face. He
swipes a thumb over Randy’s lower lip as he leans down to suck on his neck a
little. Then he takes his free hand and runs it up Randy’s body, letting it
settle on Randy’s warm, exposed stomach. “Just say that you don’t love me,”
Gale whispers into his neck.
“Fuck,” Randy mutters before dropping his head and giving in.
They rut against each other like dogs in heat. Gale’s always hated that
expression but it’s fitting. He’s pressing his whole body against Randy’s and
Randy’s pressing back, pulling at Gale’s hair and grabbing at his ass.
“Fuck me,” Randy mutters between wet, deep kisses.
Gale steps backwards and drags Randy toward the bedroom. He pushes Randy into
the room and then shuts and locks the door behind them. Randy cocks his head,
wondering if Gale thinks he might try to run away.
Gale pushes Randy onto the bed and crawls up the length of his body. He lays
his tongue flat on Randy’s stomach and takes long strokes between his ribs and
over his nipples and down his sides. Randy reaches down and fumbles with the
zipper on Gale’s pants, it’s just out of his reach.
The air in the room gets thick and heavy and sweet with sweat and precome. A
chorus of ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘now’ and ‘please’ fills the room. It all sounds
and smells and feels more beautiful than anything either of them can remember.
“Fuck me,” Randy pleads again. Gale slides open the drawer in his bedside
table. Randy bites the soft skin on his hip and pushes Gale’s pants all the way
down. The last of their clothes are pushed onto the floor along with the
comforter and every pillow in sight. Gale feels like he’s going to need
breathing room.
Gale slides a finger into Randy, then two, then three. He watches Randy’s back
arch and jaw drop, silent moans escaping. Gale thinks he’s never seen anything
sexier in his life. He honestly let himself forget how much he loved this. How
much he loved Randy. He realizes now that he had to, self-preservation always
prevailing. The human ability to adapt to any situation has always amazed Gale.
Gale shuts his eyes tight and grips Randy’s hips. He tries to savor every sound
and every burning, shaking nerve ending. If this is it, the last round in their
sorted relationship, he has to remember every moment. He can feel a warm tear
slide from him cheek onto Randy’s fingertip. He opens his eyes.
Randy moans as Gale adjusts the angle of his hips. “Don’t, please don’t,” Randy
whispers, presumably about the tears.
And Gale hates that his eyes are wet, even though he’s not really crying. It’s
more the stress of the thought of losing his best friend that’s making him
emotional. Well, maybe that’s not true. Maybe it does have more to do with love
and longing and soul mates and all that bullshit. But, Gale’s too old and jaded
and practical to think that way.
Randy reaches up and pulls Gale’s head down close to his, simultaneously pulling
Gale deeper inside of him. They both moan just before their lips meet. As they
kiss Randy strokes warm fingertips over Gale’s cheek. Then he whispers in
Gale’s ear, “I do love you.”
They rock together and rut against each other, bruising skin and knocking
teeth. Gale’s fingers are leaving marks in Randy’s hips and Randy’s fingernails
are breaking skin on Gale’s back. Tomorrow there will be battle wounds.
“God, god, god,” Randy’s head rolls from side to side and his arms fall away
from Gale, starting to go limp from the full-body tingle he gets when his
prostate is over stimulated. Gale smiles to himself and keeps his thrusts at
the same angle, just moving a little faster.
Gale pants Randy’s name and forces himself to keep his eyes open. He needs to
remember this, memorize it, savor it. It has to be clear and crisp and perfect
in his mind so it can get him through the thousands of mediocre fucks that will
follow in his life.
“Fuck, fuck,” Gale mutters into Randy’s neck. Then he grabs Randy’s face with
both hands and just looks at him. His hips slow to a stop on the in stroke.
Randy’s eyes are glazed over and his skin is shiny and moist. His hair is
matted and crazy and his breath is erratic. Gale wants to remember him just
like this.
Randy grabs Gale’s forearms, “What?” He asks softly.
Gale shakes his head, “I just need to remember this.”
Randy smiles sadly and presses his lips to Gale’s. He pushes his ass up in
order to prompt Gale to start moving again. Gale clutches Randy tightly as he
finishes them both.
Randy comes without touching himself, he can’t remember the last time that
happened. He guesses it was a few years ago, back when this was the kind of sex
he had every day. Gale follows suit immediately, letting out a strangled yelp
and biting Randy’s collarbone.
They lay still, lungs burning from the effort of it all. Gale doesn’t pull out
right away, of the things he remembers about sex with Randy one of them is that
he likes the way your dick feels when it gets a little soft inside of him.
“You’re still so good at that,” Randy whispers into his chest now. Gale smiles.
“I had a good teacher,” Gale’s surprised by how quiet his own voice sounds.
Randy did teach him most of what he knows about being a good lover.
“Mmmm,” Randy mumbles, clearly getting close to sleep, “You taught me a few
things too.”
“Oh yeah?” Gale laughs, he’s always felt so inferior to Randy in so many ways.
“About love,” Randy says simply and honestly, “s’pretty important.”
And then the blond beside him is asleep and softly snoring. Wet lips press into
Gale’s chest and warm arms surround his waist.
**
When Gale wakes up in the morning Randy’s gone. He stares at the ceiling for
the longest time, trying to decide if it was all a dream. The used condoms and
distinct smell of sex tell him that it was all very real.
He gets up and takes a shower, makes himself coffee, starts his day. He
realizes with startling clarity that that was goodbye.
**
Gale spends his last two weeks in Toronto alone. He is completely aware of his
surroundings in every coffee shop and on every corner, and when he tries to
sleep at night it kills him to think that Randy sleeps less than a mile away.
When the movers show up at dawn on Gale’s last day in good old Canada, he does
a lot of pointing and bitching and realizes that he’s become a bit of a queen.
When his apartment is completely empty and his truck is packed he stands in his
driveway and looks up and down his street for the last time. Gale can literally
feel the swelling inside of him, that overwhelming feeling you get when one
chapter of your life is ending and a new one is beginning.
Just as he reaches for the door of his truck a bright yellow Bug pulls into the
driveway behind him.
“Hey,” Randy gets out of the car.
Gale nods, “Did you need me to run that thing over for you,” he motions to
Randy’s obnoxiously bright automobile.
Randy lets out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, well definitely that, but uh, I also
need you to tell me something.”
“Wh-what?” Gale stammers a bit and shuffles his feet. He’s not really sure
where this is going.
“I need you to tell me that I’m being a fucking idiot and that we’re meant to
be or some shit.”
Gale blinks and holds his breath for a long time. “You’re a fucking idiot…and
uh, we’re meant to be…or some shit.”
Randy walks closer and with each step Gale’s heart beats faster.
“Yeah,” Randy smiles as he puts a hand on Gale’s waist, sliding a finger
through one of his worn belt loops, “I thought so.”
When Randy rolls up onto the balls of his feet and slides his lips against
Gale’s the whole world stops, well maybe not the whole world, but most of it.
**
“Say it,” Randy jumps around on the bed, naked and flushed and high as a kite.
“No,” Gale pouts, which is somehow endearing and not at all unattractive on
him.
Gale lights a cigarette and Randy jumps on the bed some more, “SAY IT!” Randy
can be ridiculous, Gale’s noticed.
Randy falls to his knees and straddles Gale’s thighs. He takes the cigarettes
from Gale’s hand and takes a long drag, trying to make smoke circles like
Gale’s as he exhales. Randy’s horrible at making smoke circles and Gale refuses
to teach him how.
Gale shakes his head, “You are absolutely insufferable and I have no idea why I
continue to live with you.”
“Because this,” Randy gives the cigarette back, “Is the best piece of ass
you’re ever gonna get.” He smacks his own ass for affect and then adds, “That
and you love me.”
Gale rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately, I do.”
Randy beams for a moment, somewhere along the way “I do” turned into their way
of saying “I love you” and Randy likes it. It’s easy and it’s secret and it
belongs to them.
“You have to say it,” Randy takes another drag from the cigarette and then
extinguishes it before pinning Gale’s arms above his head. He runs his teeth
down Gale’s neck and licks Gale’s lips and nips his collarbone.
“I love it when you spank me…” Gale mumbles into Randy’s hair as Randy licks
his nipple in way of torture.
“What?” Randy sits up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Annunciate please.”
Gale sometimes forgets why he loves Randy at all.
Gale struggles against Randy for a moment, to no avail, and then screams at the
top of his lungs, “I love it when you spank me!”
Randy stares at Gale, mouth agape, and then begins to laugh. Gale follows suit
and they both roll around on the bed, laughing hysterically until they cry.
Gale is often reminded of exactly why he loves Randy so much.
When the laughter wanes Gale thrusts his hips, “I said it, now do it.”
Randy smiles and gets a condom. “Roll over,” he instructs. Gale follows the
direction quickly.
Randy nips and licks up Gale’s thighs until Gale spreads his legs and grips the
sheets between his fingers. Gale’s never been the type to beg, but Randy can
tell when he’s had enough.
Randy slides first one, and then two fingers into Gale’s ass. Randy smiles to
himself, he’ll never tire of hearing the first moan escape Gale’s lips.
Randy slides the condom on and positions himself behind Gale. Just before he
slides in his lets his open palm come down hard on Gale’s right ass cheek. The
loud smack is followed by even louder laughter. As Randy buries himself inside
of Gale he leans in and giggles in Gale’s ear, “I do.”
End
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