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Sunset Island's Famous Wet T-Shirt Contest
Michael has a lot of T-shirts. Some of them are boring, most are funny.
But there was one. There was one that Tom remembered from the beginning. It was yellow and had that vintage kind of look to it. The letters were orange and kind of faded and the picture was a brownish color and looked to be flaking off a little. But none of that was what made Tom stare when he first saw it.
Technically, Tom mused, it wasn’t the shirt itself that made Tom stare. Sure, initially, it was the shirt. But mostly, it was the way that Michael wore it. The shirt was kind of tight across the chest and the sleeves looked a little too small. Like, Michael had owned the shirt for a long time, maybe since he was in high school. Or something.
Tom was never sure about that. He’d never actually gotten around to asking Michael about the shirt. They’d been caught up in other things.
But the shirt. The shirt provided some great memories for Tom, even if it didn’t actually have any role in the memories that were so great.
~*~
“Nice shirt,” Tom breathed.
Michael looked at him like he had horns growing from his head. “Thanks.” He tugged at the edge and looked down at it, the words ‘wet t-shirt contest’ easier to read when it wasn’t bunched up on Michael’s stomach. “It’s one of my favorites.”
Tom nodded, probably too vigorously. “I like it.”
Michael glanced up at him and looked back down. “Nothing spectacular.”
Tom wanted to disagree. It was spectacular. But he was too busy trying to stop the drool from running down his chin to say anything else.
“Ready to go?”
Tom whipped his head up and realized that he’d been staring at Michael’s chest. He was confused for a second. “Go?” He repeated and then shook his head. “Oh, right. Go.”
So they left. Tom followed Michael from the set and wondered if that shirt was the one Michael wore into work. Tom hadn’t really noticed then.
They finally got to Michael’s car and Tom climbed into the passenger seat. He kept glancing over at the shirt. At Michael.
“Dude. What do you keep looking at?”
“Uh. Your shirt?”
“It’s just a shirt. What is it?”
Tom didn’t know how to answer that. He shrugged as he shook his head and concentrated on staring out his window.
~*~
Tom remembered that it was just after they started filming. It was still technically late summer, but mostly only because of the calendar, because in Canada shit like that didn’t matter. It was either cold, slightly warmer than cold, or fucking freezing. They never got warm and certainly not hot.
The day of “The Shirt,” which is what Tom had started calling it in his head, was one of the warmer than cold days. The sun was out and, while it was still pretty cloudy, the sun peeking through made it a good one.
Jamie was gone …quot; some modeling thing that Tom never got the details for …quot; and he’d invited Michael over for take-out and movies because it was Friday and he always ended up lonely when she was gone. They might break out the Playstation if they got bored with the movies. It wasn’t a big deal. Something that happened all the time.
Except before, Michael hadn’t been wearing that shirt.
~*~
Tom didn’t notice the actual drive. He was looking out the window, but most of the stuff he saw didn’t register. When they got to his house he was a little surprised. He blinked and looked around.
Michael cut the engine and poked Tom on the shoulder …quot; which finally got his attention because Tom was just staring at his neighbor’s truck.
“Dude. Seriously, are you okay?”
Tom shook his head, to try to say something intelligent, but he just smiled. “I’m great. Do you want Chinese or Pizza?”
“Chinese. You’re sure you’re good?”
Tom nodded and made his way inside. The dogs jumped on him and Michael, of course, they always did. But Tom loved that. It was one of the reasons he had dogs …quot; they were always happy to see you and didn’t care about anything else, except maybe eating.
Michael didn’t seem to care either. He just rubbed the top of the dog’s heads and talked to them like they were people. “Have you been alone all day? Are you happy to see us?” Like the dogs could understand. Tom grinned.
After the food had been ordered, Michael and Tom settled on the couch and Michael captured the remote. It was always a joke between them …quot; who was going to control the remote …quot; and therefore the movies for the evening. Whenever Tom was too slow, Michael would always sneak one of his own movies into the viewing line up. Tonight was no exception.
The credits for Urban Legend scrolled across the screen and Tom rolled his eyes when the commentary came up.
“You are the craziest dork ever, Michael. Do we have to listen to you talk about you talking about the movie?”
Michael just grinned.
~*~
The food arrived not long after that and they ate right from the cartons while the movie played on. Tom was trying to be discreet …quot; and he figured he was getting away with it too. He was still sneaking glances at Michael’s t-shirt throughout the movie.
“Is there Moo Goo Gai Pan all over my shirt?”
“No?”
Michael looked down. His shirt was, of course, clean. “What is it? Seriously. You’ve been staring at me all night. Did I grow an appendage I don’t see out of my chest?”
Tom sighed. “I just like your shirt.”
“My shirt, huh? Are you sure it isn’t my sexxay chest?”
“N-no.”
“Right.” Michael turned back to the television for a second, but the next time he looked over, Tom was staring at him again.
“Okay. That’s it.” Michael lunged at him and they ended up lying on the sofa with Tom on the bottom. “You can either quit staring at me or do something about it.”
Tom squirmed, but Michael didn’t move. “What are you doing?”
“Testing a theory,” he said, right before he bent his neck and pressed a kiss to Tom’s lips.
At first, Tom was too surprised to do anything. But after a couple of seconds, he started to kiss back. Heat swept through him and when Michael shifted his hips, Tom groaned.
Michael pulled back with a grin. “So. You like my shirt, do you? That’s all it is. It’s not me inside of it, is it?”
Tom nodded. He did like the shirt. And ever since he’d left work, he’d been growing more and more attached to it. He’d been attached to the person inside for a lot longer.
He arched up, moaning when his hardening cock rubbed against Michael’s thigh. “You should take off the shirt, though. I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”
Michael gasped and dropped another kiss on Tom’s lips. “The shirt is pretty nice.” He scooted back and sat up on his knees on Tom’s thighs. He crossed his arms and grabbed the hem of the shirt and tugged it off slowly.
Tom licked his upper lip and bit his bottom one. “Its contents are even better.”
Michael grinned and slipped his hands underneath Tom’s shirt. “Wanna compare? I mean, it’s only fair. I show you mine, you show me yours,” he suggested with a raised eyebrow.
Grinning, Tom nodded and held his arms up. Michael skimmed the shirt up and sat back again. He stared appreciatively and then leaned in and kissed Tom. Their chests met and Tom wrapped his arms around Michael, tugging him close.
~*~
Michael was an amazing kisser. Tom remembered that. Sometimes he was slow and methodical about it, taking his time to make sure that every inch of Tom’s mouth was enjoyed and used. Sometimes, it was messy and fast and all tongue.
Tom had never sat down and counted the kisses or the hours they spent together. But he knew that it had been a lot. It all started with the shirt, somewhere at the beginning of their second year of the show. That night that Tom hadn’t been able to stop staring.
~*~
The kisses turned more frantic and Tom couldn’t help where his hands gravitated towards. He kept grabbing Michael’s ass and grinding into him. Every time, it would make Michael moan and, then in turn, make Tom want him more.
There wasn’t even any question at that point as to what they were doing, where this was going. As soon as one of them could pry themselves away, they were going to end up in Tom’s bedroom, doing wonderfully, deliciously naughty things to each other.
Tom could tell. It was the way Michael would pant, the way he would lick along Tom’s collarbone, the way that his cock kept twitching against Tom’s thigh. Tom couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Okay. This. We have to move. Because in about two seconds, I’m either going to come in my pants or push you onto the floor and just fuck you here.”
Michael stared at him for about two seconds before scrambling off of Tom and offering a helping hand.
~*~
Tom’s memories are probably skewed. Like, he remembers the looks that he’d get from Michael across the set. The grin that Michael always had for him when they fucked up their lines. That one time that they’d both found reasons to stick around on the set after everyone had left and they’d fucked on Lex’s pool table.
He knew they fought. They fought all the damn time. Sometimes, it was about important things …quot; Jamie or all of the women that Michael picked up. But mostly, it was stupid shit. Like how Michael wanted to spend a weekend in LA and Tom wanted to be in NYC. Or sometimes even dinner choices had them screaming at each other.
But the sex was always good. Whether it was because they were happy or making up, or even so pissed at each other that the only thing they could do, besides kill each other, was fuck.
Tom stared down at the picture and traced over the words on the shirt. There probably wasn’t such a place as Sunset Island. And they probably never did have a famous wet t-shirt contest. He smiled absently.
~*~
By the time they’d made it to Tom’s bedroom, they were both naked, their pants and socks leaving a trail from the couch to the bed. But, neither of them cared. A heated embrace led to them tumbling onto the bed and it wasn’t long before Michael’s mouth found Tom’s cock.
It was over too soon, but Tom really couldn’t help it. Michael’s mouth was hot and welcoming and so goddamn good that Tom didn’t stand a chance.
And Michael didn’t seem to mind. He just licked his lips and climbed up Tom’s body to steal another kiss. Tom reached into his night stand. He knew there are condoms in there and probably some lotion. He rummaged until he finds something slick.
Michael stared up at him, disbelief all over his face, but when Tom reached between his own legs and starts to stretch himself, Michael groaned. Grinning, Tom rolled the condom down Michael’s cock and then slowly lowered himself onto him.
The strain on Michael’s face as he tried to keep from moving was almost comical to Tom. He teased as much as he could, too, because he liked that himself. And based on the responses from Michael …quot; the moans, the short high-pitched breaths …quot; Tom could tell that he was not the only one that liked it.
Michael bucked and panted, his cock filling Tom over and over as they writhed together on the bed. Tom wrapped his hand around his own cock and came again, all over Michael’s chest seconds after feeling Michael came inside of him.
They grinned at each other sleepily afterwards, Michael’s smile bigger than Tom had ever seen it. So big that he had to kiss it again and they were lost again in each others’ bodies until morning.
~*~
It’s always bittersweet for Tom to think about Michael. He eventually lost Jamie because of it. But he was never nostalgic for her, he never thought about any of her clothing the way he did Michael’s.
He’d fallen in love with Michael a little bit at a time. It wasn’t some huge thing that hit him all at once.
And it wasn’t like he fell out of love with Michael all at once either. That was a gradual process, too. Michael would forget to call. Tom couldn’t be bothered to even care. They didn’t speak to each other for days at a time and then, when one of them did manage to pick up a phone, it would be for something stupid, like to see if the pants Michael were looking for were at Tom’s place.
It was easy once the show was over. Easy when they didn’t see each other every day, didn’t have to run lines and stare into the others’ eyes meaningfully.
But remembering wasn’t easy at all. It always left a dull ache in Tom’s chest for something that could have been, but never quite was.
[ main l rps l fps ]
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