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Bambi, he half-whispered, reeking of that shitty soap.
Maura had picked it up from the store and thrown it in the cart once she saw the word sale. The package had three big words whose font and design were such an eyesore — FOR MEN, SPORTS. The same hideous trademark was also branded on the soap, eroded over friction and time. All those words for a blue chunk of chemical to be washed away.
Niall coveted that scent. He would use it from time to time to rub Ruben all over him. Sans the sweats, booze, of course, sometimes cheap perfume from his birds, and seldom was the musk of dried semen. Sans everything truly made Ruben Ruben — like what truly made Niall's head spin every time the smile reached those blue eyes, calling him Bambi so softly, the way one would call their other half.
Niall didn't care, or didn’t want to know what did drinking in the scent on his own skin after showering with Ruben's soap say about him. He was satisfied with having one littlest thing of Ruben to be his, a secret so loud, so tangible that it could be traced in the air. As long as he wouldn't use it that often, then the scent wouldn't linger that long, the soap wouldn't shrink that fast, and then Ruben wouldn't notice.
“Did you use my soap.” He asked, flatly.
Niall flinched under his covers. He swallowed and craned his neck, mumbling: “Yeah— Sorry. My body wash ran out, so I borrowed your soap, if that's okay.”
“Bullshit.” There wasn't any edge in Ruben's tone. Only amusement, actually. It made Niall's heart hammer nonetheless. He didn't like it when Ruben mocked an air of amiability. It felt like standing in the eye of the storm, seconds away from crashing into waves and rage, or just another burst of contagious laughter. Niall couldn’t say for sure, for Ruben was always so unpredictable.
Footsteps padded closer to Niall’s bedside, close enough for Niall to catch the droplets caught in the fuzz peppering his chest, catching the nightlight. Ruben's face only a gold contour, the rest too dark to be seen but unmistakably staring down at him. Niall felt his breath stutter, a gaze that was as secretive and tangible as the scent of the soap, couldn’t be seen, only echoing on their bodies, only lingering in their room.
“Your bottle of body wash is ten times heavier than you all soaking wet. Ran out, he said.” Ruben snorted, a smile still clinging to his voice as he leaned down, the night fading from his face as he leaned closer to the nightlight, inch by inch, closer to Niall.
Niall watched him, not saying a word.
“Bambi, talk. You’re the one with all those fucking literature classics and having your wee way with words.” Niall saw his pupils were blown, eyes almost dark. Must be how dimmed the room is, he desperately clawed back some Biology 101 in his head, trying to impose an explanation on why Ruben was staring him so intensely over a piece of soap that wasn’t even bought with his money.
“It’s faster. Saves time and water, you know. Body wash takes forever to rinse out. All those bubbles and scrubbing.” Niall came up with the most plausible idea, hoping whatever had gotten into Ruben’s head would pass. And then he could go back to sleep and breathe better later for Ruben being so close now, always having a hard time breathing—
That was when it hit.
What he breathed in was full of himself, or at least his usual self.
The smell of his body wash. All over Ruben.
Niall’s nostrils flared, flushing as Ruben laughed lowly, bringing his palm to pat Niall’s cheek. He could feel the weight of Ruben's eyes pinning him down. “Saving time and water? Oh, you lying little brat. You’ve got places to be, birds to bang, yeah, shagger? Apparently not. Just another night spending an hour in the shower fucking doing God knows what.”
He must’ve been too caught up in that all too familiar scent that had never felt heady before — swaddling him with the heat radiating from Ruben’s body — because he challenged with a: “Then why are you using my body wash? You have your own soap.”
Ruben said nothing at first, the silence probably just lasted for two seconds, but it felt stretching way too far for Niall. Then Ruben was suddenly straddling him, breathing hard as he chuckled and starting to tickle him. “Throwing my question back at me, a smart ass, ain’t ya?”
Niall was just ready to push down the urge to thrash his limbs and push away an unrelenting Ruben on his crotch when he stopped, as if he knew Niall hated being tickled and was being considerate in a split second. Instead, he trapped Niall with his thighs, clamping Niall’s hips, looming over him with a knowing glint in his eyes. Niall didn’t know whether he should’ve just taken the tickling instead, because when Ruben’s whole attention was on him, it always prickled his body, like his gaze was a thorny, suffocating thing that he both relished and was terrified of being under.
His weight, his touch, his voice, everything all at once, going straight to somewhere inside of Niall. An unspeakable beast that has a slur dedicated to its existence. A throbbing, roaring thing in mute, on all fours, its presence only betrayed by how a certain part of his body visibly reacted.
“Ruben, stop it.” Niall forced out, his erection growing, following the rhythm of Ruben’s breaths lapping his jaw. It wouldn’t take long for Ruben to move backward for the slightest to feel Niall pressing against him.
“Not until you answer my question, Bambers.” Ruben moved his mouth next to Niall’s right ear, inhaling deeply through his nose, then slowly puffing the air onto his earlobe. “Say it. I want to hear.”
Niall gasped, his dick twitched so hard that it hurt. Ruben must’ve felt the movement, because there was a deep laugh rippling through his ribcage. "Oh, Bambers, always the grower. C'mon, don't keep it waiting."
“I... I, uh, like—” Niall broke off, dazed when Ruben lifted his head to look him in the eyes, foreheads touching. His fingers brushed against Niall’s hair, manipulating his scalp encouragingly. Manipulate, Niall thought wordlessly about this word. If he had never spoken, this would never have continued. If that meant he actually had the tiniest, slightest control over Ruben. If Ruben's all over him tonight meant he's something worthy of his attention.
“Like what?” Ruben cooed, rubbing their nosetips together. His lashes are so soft, Niall thought. Everything's so soft about this hardened man, Niall chose to believe.
“Like the smell of y— your soap,” Niall whispered, a half-truth almost inaudible if Ruben hadn’t been so close, who definitely heard every syllable of it since the smile on his face grew into a grin.
“It wasn’t that hard, was it?” Ruben stroked Niall’s cheek, moving backwards — on purpose, in Niall’s hindsight — and pressed his ass into Niall’s tent.
“Okay. It was that hard. Who would’ve thought a crappy soap can get you going, my little perv.” He threw his head back laughing at his own words, but all Niall could focus on was his voice and the lean line of Ruben’s neck. So fierce, yet so delicate, making him curious how it would feel to bring his hands and to wrap them around it, to draw circles with his fingers on it. He always ran cold, and Ruben always ran like a furnace.
Niall found the warmth and the pulsing life of Ruben under his palm before he realized what he was doing. The sudden panic caused him to jolt his hand back, only for Ruben to gently grasp his wrist almost immediately.
Ruben slowly lowered his neck back down, his eyes fully dark now as he laced his fingers into the hand on his neck and started guiding Niall. First, his left chest, heart thumping faster and more honestly than usual under Niall’s splayed hand. “Such beautiful fingers, Niall. Even girls don’t have ‘em like yours. Writer’s fingers, hmm?”
Niall couldn’t say anything unless he wanted to choke on his spit, but panted like he was running away from something, away from Ruben, away from himself, yet the distance was so tight, so unescapable. That was when Ruben leaned down, tucked their locked hands between their stomach, grazing his teeth against the crook where Niall’s shoulder and neck met. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Niall. Tell me where you want to touch me next.”
Niall thought he might as well give up. His words stuttered like his heart. “E— Anywhere is good.” Ruben didn’t move, so he added, “Please?”
That earned him a soft laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a greedy one here.” Ruben teased, but Niall could see by the dim lights that Ruben was flushed all over, from his face to his chest; and the hard thing jutting his stomach was certainly not Ruben’s hipbone. “Go on then.”
Niall ran his hands on Ruben’s body tentatively, mapping the heat and the soft curls scattering across dips and lines. Following the trail stretched down into a lush bush peeking out of his grey boxer briefs, Niall gulped at the sight — a growing wet spot on Ruben’s underwear. He tried not to dwell on what that meant, only tilting his head upward to meet Ruben’s eyes, silently asking for permission.
Ruben smirked and stopped their hands right above his belly button. “Not sure where this is going, Niall. You've got to spell it out for me.” He started, voice slow and steady, leaning down once again to press his chin against Niall's sternum, looking up at him, all wrinkles and feigned naïveté. The stubble on his jaw rubbed against Niall’s chest, half-itchy, half-burning.
“Arse.” Niall huffed softly and tried to put his free hand on Ruben's still-damp hair, curlier than usual. He didn't miss the amusement and arousal flickering across Ruben's face when another hand tackled his, pinning him back onto the sheet. The twin-sized bed creaked under two tangled weights.
“Then all you have to do is ask nicely.” Ruben knew Niall wasn't talking about his literal arse, still, he rolled his hip backwards to draw a groan out from both of them. “Fill the blank, Bambers.”
Niall exhaled shakily, shut his eyes for a second before fluttering them open again, and whispered, “Can I touch you down there, please?”
He swore Ruben’s cock twitched at that. A thought came to him out of nowhere — he never asked Mona to say the same shit, asking for permission and sorts, but only to him. This constant confirmation of dominance over him, Niall absentmindedly wondered if he had read that somewhere in any of his books.
Ruben didn’t answer, only guiding their locked hands to his tented mess. As he cupped the outline through the fabric, Ruben sighed. A sound so vulnerable that Niall thought he had misheard. His mind went haywire with questions, or disassociating, he wasn’t sure. Was Ruben like this with Mona? Had Ruben moaned like this when he was in another woman’s bed? Was he the only man Ruben had used? The only thing he was certain about was the weight in his hand, leaking under the attention. Was he ever special?
He pushed their fingers under the waistband, brushing against the veins and the wetness, drawing another heavy exhale out of Ruben. “Fucking hell, those fingers, Bambi.” He felt Ruben’s grip loosen, thrusting himself into Niall’s palm instead. The slickness brought Ruben a friction that he didn’t see coming, which made him bend to bury himself in the crook of Niall’s neck, panting, humping with a messy rhythm.
Niall pressed his cheek to Ruben’s temple, hearing every noise he made, savoring every hot breath he puffed on his skin as Ruben fucked into his fist. He was so pliant to let it happen, to let someone he called brother somehow lie on top of him. His free hand slowly landed on Ruben’s scalp, keeping him tucked in the hollow of his neck. He distantly remembered the way Ruben’s tears smeared all over his nape on one of his first nights living here, many, many moons ago.
Ruben never jerked away from his touch, not even once. Just went deeper, into his neck, into his fist.
Niall could feel him siphoning the air of such narrow space between them, the expansion of his chest, the lowering of his ribs. Then just a shortest exhale before another deep breath.
“You smell like me,” Ruben said, uselessly.
You smell of me. Niall said, wordlessly.
With the muscle on Ruben’s neck taut under Niall’s hand and a choked moan, Niall felt Ruben pulsing, dripping, sighing, and breathing in his shoulder. He stared at the ceiling, longing to taste his cramping fingers. Trembling was the mess he made of Ruben. Was this what Ruben had been seeking from him all along? The same thing he felt when Ruben Pallister was melting under his palm, the most fleeting moment of dependency.
“We share everything,” Ruben said, after having cleaned up and before wrapping his arms around Niall, killing the light.
Even sex partner, Niall wanted to say. Sharing himself with him, and sometimes earning a dubious reciprocation. Instead, he just nodded. “Even scents.”
“Even scents.” Ruben echoed. “My manly scent.”
“Your manly scent,” Niall agreed, never finishing the sentence, which reeks of me.