Rating: NC-17 (MA)
Pairing: Ed Exley/Bud White
Warning: Rated MA. Mature adults only. Contains violence, m/m sex, and coarse language.
Disclaimer: No rights infringement intended.
Comments: Nothing terribly tender, but when dealing with two men whose greatest declaration of love is "Yeah," well, what can you do?
West Hollywood, 1953...
"Fucking me and fucking Bud White aren't the same thing you know."
She had that right.
It was nothing like being fucked by Bud White either.
Ed had started this but Bud's strength, his muscles, his fire, had gotten the upper hand and now, again, Ed was on the floor and at his mercy.
A very short while earlier...
They'd met the local sheriff's boys at Lynn's house. Somebody had already done her over. Bud looked sick and Ed knew he wasn't the only one sporting Bud's little love taps right about now. Exley sent the sheriff's men on their way to protect Lynn. He looked back at Bud. Bud just got out of the car and lit a cigarette. He smoked it for a bit, leaning back against the car, the silence oppressive. After a while he turned around and stared at the house across the roof of the car.
Thinking of something he marched up the path, flicking his cigarette butt onto the lawn.
At a loss, Ed followed.
Pausing at the door, stricken at his own actions, Bud forced himself to go in, to see for himself that no one else but himself had raised a hand to Lynn.
No one else had. The lounge room was, as always, immaculate.
"Why'd you do it? Hit her, I mean," Ed voiced his own thoughts.
Bud casually sifted through the magazines on the coffee table with a fingertip, just like a cop at a crime scene.
"Because you fucked her."
"She fucked me because she was paid to."
Bud whipped around, murder in his eyes.
"She fucked you because she wanted to," Ed quickly added. "She said it wasn't the same. As fucking you."
"As fucking you. Fucking her wasn't the same as fucking you."
Bud White scowled, trying to make sense of what Ed had just said, when Ed crossed the distance and kissed him. Eyes flew open. Ed stood there and waited for the blow. He closed his eyes and felt Bud grab him hard by the arms, followed by a punishing kiss that was only just short of a head butt.
They fell onto the floor, the muscles and limbs that had torn and punched at each other in anger now grabbing and tearing each other in another heat.
Maybe it was because thy were marked men, maybe it was because they were the only two people they could trust in the world, maybe it was because they were scared shitless or just the flip side of the incredible rage from before. Hands that had sought to destroy now moved with a different passion, yet the rhythm was the same.
Clothes had been flung in all directions across the polished floor. White was mauling his flesh and Ed remembered Jack's promise that Bud White would fuck him for the rest of his life. He could live with that.
He lifted himself up, opening himself up to Bud in one gesture that revealed who he was, what he was and what he wanted to White.
Bud didn't need telling twice. Three thrusts and he was in, deep, grunting over Exley. One powerful shoulder balanced him on the floor, the other held the man, his partner...his friend? White wasn't sure and it didn't matter. Exley used people, took what he needed. White could do that, too.
Ed looked up at Bud's face and he knew he could trust in that strength. A moment of clarity flashed between them, then Exley closed his eyes, and White pumped him full, and it was over.
They broke apart, trailing tender brushes of skin and kisses. Then they dressed. Everything was going to hell and there wasn't time for anything more, not even words. Yet, strangely, no words were needed between them any more.
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