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Author's Note: This is an AU scene from the extended edition of Partnership.

Partnership, extended edition: Scene 2

by shalott

They go sit in the bedroom after; there isn't a living room. It's a lot cooler, so neither of them care, especially after Bud puts on the one big fan and starts it blowing air from the one small window over the bed. They pretty much just lie there breathing for a while. Bud smells like the food, like sweat, and Ed's mouth starts watering again, for no reason.

Bud reaches over him to turn out the light, and Ed licks his wrist without really thinking: just catches his hand and draws it down, tracing tendons and veins with his tongue, speckles of salty oil from the cooking. Bud presses his fingers to Ed's mouth, and Ed lets them in, sucking on them. For a moment he thinks he's going to get off just on this; his dick is pushing up through the waistband on his shorts.

Bud takes his fingers out and puts them on Ed's bare nipples: cool and wet in the air from the fan. It's hard to breathe and it's too hot to really touch. They end up on their sides, sixty-nined, licking each other's cocks like ice cream. Ed's got one hand on Bud's hip to steady him, Bud's hand is wrapped around Ed's dick to aim it; they don't touch anywhere else. Ed's never gone down on a guy before, but he uses one of his favorite tricks for girls, blows cold and hot on the head between licks, and Bud makes muffled noises around his dick and tries to fuck his throat.

Ed lets him in deeper. His jaw aches, but it's so fucking hot to have Bud's hips moving back and forth in this lazy rhythm, to have Bud's cock sliding over his tongue. He gets his own fingers wet and puts his hand between Bud's legs, the heavy thigh muscles gripping his wrist. Bud doesn't flinch away, but he has to let Ed's dick slip out of his mouth so he can breathe deeper. Ed works into him slow and easy, until he loosens up.

Bud's got his head pressed against Ed's thigh, and his balls are tightening up. "Fuck," he says, low and quiet, and he's gone. Ed swallows: bitter and oily, but he likes it anyway, taking it from Bud. Feels like a part of ownership. Care and feeding, he thinks, and laughs, sprawled out on his back. He came at some point along the way, and his dick is shrinking in the sluggishly moving air.

"What time do we go in tomorrow?" Bud asks, yawning.

"Around noon."

"And here I figured you for a six am kinda guy," Bud says, deep and amused.

"The other guys go out to lunch, easy to get paperwork done. The best cases come in at night," Ed says. He strokes Bud's thigh, proprietary. Bud's arm is lying over Ed's thighs, hand a solid weight resting flat on his belly, sour taste of him on Ed's tongue: he's staying, and they're going to be golden.

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