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Exception	By : jazzxdaffy Category: +1 through F > Boondocks, The Views: 5835 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Boondocks, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Exception
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first fanfiction i've written in at least three years, the first i've written for Boondocks period. I'm still kind of shocked that i actually made this... I've spent the past year or so overcoming my "fanfiction is stupid" phase (i was kinda seeing a guy who thought it was really lame... which, of course, made ME think it was lame -_-;;) But! This is making me remember how much i loved writing this shit. Has not been beta-read... if you see mistakes do not be afraid to point them out. Review PLZ kthx!!!!11

*****
I am way too sober for this shit.
Rummy was sitting in his apartment with the television on, a beer in his hand, and a very drunk redhead draped across his lap. He took a swig of his beer. How the fuck did he end up in these kinds of situations?
He'd gotten a call several hours ago from Ed Senior. "My deadbeat grandson just got kicked out of another bar. Some place called Q's. Pick him up and take him somewhere-- I don't want to see his moronic ass for at least a week." And before Rummy even had the chance to ask how an ass can be moronic, Mr. Wuncler had hung up the phone.
It was bad enough that Ed had had an arm draped casually around Rummy's waist as they walked from the bar to the Hummer, then around his shoulders the entire ride home. And it was bad enough that Rummy had practically had to carry Ed up the stairs to his apartment, the weight of the redhead's body pressed against his, accompanied by his drunken murmurs of "you my man," and "I fuckin' love you, bro." And it was certainly bad enough that Ed had passed out sitting upright on the couch, so that Gin knew he'd have to carry him to bed out of that inexplicable affection he'd been feeling lately toward the heir.
But when Ed fell from his upright position to land directly on Rummy's lap, all hell broke loose.
That is, all hell broke loose in Rummy's head... and started to break loose in his pants.
For months now, unfamiliar thoughts had been whirring around in the blond's head. It started with unnameable, fleeting feelings, such as blushing when Ed called him a "smart muthafucka", or his stomach getting oddly warm when Ed pulled him in for a man-hug. Then Rummy found himself trying to make the hugs last longer, trying to make himself look smarter, and actually caring what he smelled like when Ed was around. And since when was he going out of his way to be nice to that drunk-ass?
Rummy didn't know how to interpret his change in thought and behavior. He and Ed had always been so close, but lately it was as though they weren't close enough. The idea that these feelings might be romantic or sexual in any way never crossed Rummy's mind. He'd never felt that way about a man before, why should he feel that way now about his best friend?
Then came the wet dreams.
When he woke up sweating in the middle of the night, sheets soaked with his potential offspring, it took him a few minutes to realize who had been moaning his name in the subconscious fantasy. As soon as he realized that it was Ed he'd been fucking, Ed he'd been caressing and licking, Ed he'd been dreaming about, he jumped out of bed and stood in a cold shower for thirty minutes. This couldn't be right.
The dream had been torturing him every night, memories of it occupying almost every waking moment in his head. He'd even jacked off to the thought of it, after a full box of Hustlers hadn't done the trick.
And after a week of dwelling over this, a week of not being able to think of anything but the self-conjured image of his war buddy's mouth on his dick...
Here he was, sweating bullets, with Ed's head resting on top of his family jewels.
Fuck.
Should he stand up? Push Ed away? Neither of these ideas seemed right, somehow. It felt like he'd been sitting like this for hours. He squirmed slightly, and Ed rolled over, pressing his face into Rummy's crotch. Now he could feel Ed's hot breath and the outline of a mouth through his pants, and a familiar heat began squirming in his lower abdomen.
Fuck.
Rummy squirmed again, trying to scoot out from underneath the heir without awakening him. The last thing-- the absolute last fucking thing-- that Rummy needed right now was for Ed to wake up laying on top of his best friend's hard-on, only to look up and see the blond staring down at him, horny as a motherfucker. But trying to move off the couch only served to worsen Rummy's predicament, as Ed wrapped his arm's unconsciously around the blond's waist, pulling him closer. Gin's shirt rode up slightly and red hair brushed against his stomach. He now had a six-person tent pitched in his pants.
Rummy looked around helplessly. What could he do? Sit and wait for it to go away? Try again to remove himself from the strong arms wrapped around his hips? Pour his beer on his groin and hope the cold liquid would help him calm down?
As he was weighing his none-too-appealing options, he felt movement on his lap and stared down into two bleary green eyes blinking up at him. Gin froze.
But instead of Ed screaming at Rummy or punching him in the face, he closed his eyes again and moved into a different position on Gin's lap, so that his lips were pressed against the soft skin just above the waistband of his pants, and one of his arms reached up the back of Gin's shirt.
This was wrong in so many ways.
Rummy leapt off the couch, knocking Ed to the floor.
"Ow!" the redhead whined, rubbing the back of his head. "The fuck is yo prob'm, nigga? Wakin' up a nigga while's drunk..."
"My prob'm?" Gin demanded, his face turning red. "The fuck you think doin', layin' on me all cuddly an' shit?"
"Fuckin' sleepin', the fuck's it look like!"
"That wasn' no muthafuckin' sleepin' I eva seen!" Then, before he could stop himself, "You fuckin' gay for me or what?"
Ed looked offended, maybe even a little hurt, by the tactless question. "Fuck no, nigga, I just like layin' on people an' shit. Just sometimes feels good to feel somebody while I's sleepin', knaamean? Not like we's fuckin' eachotha or nothin'..."
Gin suddenly became very aware of how obvious his excitement might be, and wondered if Ed had noticed his trouser teepee. He sat down on the couch again, hoping to make it less noticeable. After a moment of silence, Ed jumped up on the couch with him.
"An', like, so what if we did, y'know? I mean, like... bein' gay is when you're, uh, attracted to members of yo' same gender, am I right?"
Gin eyed him incredulously. Where was he going with this? "Right..."
"So, I mean, what if y'only feelin' one guy, y'know? Like, you still wanna fuck bitches an' all, but you just kinda make an... exception?"
Gin blinked. "You fuck guys, man, you gay."
"Tha's what I'm sayin', though! I ain't fuckin' guys, I's only fucking one guy!"
"But you ain't fuckin' one guy," he blurted, "You ain't fuckin' nobody."
Ed pondered this for a moment, then noticed Gin's very apparent erection. He grinned lopsidedly, the kind of grin that put butterflies in Rummy's stomach. "Seems like you mighta found that shit awful enjoyable, Rummy."
Gin's mind searched desperately for a nonchalant retort, but found nothing. In fact, trying to think of a comeback only served to distract him while Ed leaned over, took Gin's face in his hands, and kissed him.
He could taste the alcohol on Ed's breath, the smell of his sweat and pheromones filling the room and making Gin's head swim. He felt a tongue slide into his mouth and a body sliding into his lap, and all he could think about was the two of them running through the desert in Iraq, shooting and fighting and being men together, and now they were making out on his sofa. And they were both enjoying it.
Gin's arms were hanging limp and useless at his sides, so Ed, without breaking the kiss, picked up the frightened hands and placed them on his hips. Gin automatically pulled the hips down, pressing them into his own, and Ed exhaled sharply through his nose, sliding his hands up Rummy's arms to curl around his broad shoulders.
There was a quick tangle of limbs as they hurriedly removed shirts, glasses, and bandannas, and Ed pulled Rummy to lay on top of him on the couch.
Gin felt like he was going insane. The sweat on his skin caused Ed's muscled chest to slide deliciously underneath his. The redhead was moaning and cursing and grinding, and then he arched his back and exposed his neck and the green eyes rolled back into his head, and the last thread of self-control that Gin had been gripping like a lifeline snapped in two.
He bit Ed's neck, hard, pinning his hands down while he marked the slightly shorter man's neck. Ed moaned again and bucked against him. The sight of him in the submissive pose, sweating, practically begging Gin to fuck his brains out... It let loose something inside him, something hot and feral, something he couldn't control. And he couldn't get enough of it.
Keeping his hands pinned at his sides, he moved down Ed's body, biting and kissing and licking and absolutely loving the way he squirmed. He undid Ed's trousers with his teeth (that trick always drove bitches wild) and licked the soft skin above his hip bone. He could feel the slightly smaller man writhing underneath him. He released the redhead's hands long enough to pull his pants down and long enough to feel the calloused fingers wind into his hair as he slid back up to look Ed in the face.
They kept eye contact while Gin slipped out of his pants, while he opened a condom and put it on, and only broke the eye contact when he slid himself, slowly, inside of Eddie, watching the face beneath him contort with pain and pleasure. He kissed Ed's forehead and eyelids, waiting for him to adjust, beginning to move only when he felt nails dig into his back and heard the word go whispered huskily into his ear.
And, again, it was the sight of him wrapped in pure bliss the made Gin just absolutely lose it, and he started thrusting uncontrollably, listening to Ed scream more more again and feeling the warmth and strength surround him, god nothing like this could last forever.
And, of course, it didn't.
Gin came. Hard. Sucking Ed's tongue into his mouth to keep himself from screaming, because he liked to think he had more self control than that. They both lay, panting, refusing to move, even though what lay between them was so uncomfortable-- sweat, semen, and so many fucking questions.
Gin jerked his eyes open. The television was still on. He was still sitting upright. Ed was still draped drunkenly across his lap. His mind felt groggy and his neck hurt.
A dream. He had dozed off, and it had all been a dream. The stickiness in the front of his pants frustrated him immensely.
Ed stirred, and looked up at his friend.
"Oh, shit," he mumbled, blushing and sitting up sheepishly. "Sorry. I musta fella sleep. And, uh, I think i drooled on your pants, bro..."
Gin noted the shy look on Ed's face and the familiar stiff bulge in his cargo pants, and he laughed.
"Don' worry 'bout it, son," Gin said, climbing on top of a still-blushing but unresisting Ed, "I'm not one ta let guys get they spit all ova my junk an' shit, but I think that, this one time, I could make a exception..."
***
End of another one of my patented Alcohol-Induced Pr0n stories.
Reviewzzz!!!!!1
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