Title: To friendship - Part 4
Author: Ligeia
Fandom: Richy Guitar
Characters: Richy/Igor
Rating: R
Category: Romance
Summary: How did he ever think he could handle this?
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. Richy Guitar and all related characters were originally created by Michael Laux. I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
"This was the last one," Richard said putting down the big cardboard box he was carrying and sat down on the floor next to it. "Thank you, Hans, we'd be lost without you."
Hans snorted. "Sometimes I think my car's the only reason why you keep me in the band."
"That's not true and you know it," Igor replied patting the bass player's shoulder. "Let's not forget those yummy cakes your mum makes."
"Arsehole." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Gotta go now, have fun putting away all this stuff."
Richard waved at him and reclined back on the floor. "Our home. I still can't believe it." He turned his head in Igor's direction and gave him a brilliant smile.
The drummer looked at him and couldn't help smiling back, Richard's good mood was just infectious.
"You do realise it'll take us ages to tidy up this mess, don't you?"
"I know, I know, stop talking like my mother." Richard sat up. "We'll get everything in place. But first, I need a shower. You could start cooking dinner in the meantime."
"Hey, I'm not your bloody wife!" Igor called after him as his friend entered the bathroom.
He was glad Richard didn't make any first night jokes.
+++
"God, I needed that."
Igor looked up from his comics and stared. Richard had walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. His skin was still slightly flushed from the shower and his hair damp and slicked back. A droplet of water slid down from his temple and Igor had to fight the sudden, insane urge to just stand up, grab his friend's face and lick it off. And then push him up against the wall and ravish him until neither of them could stand.
He swallowed. How did he ever think he could handle this?
"What are you looking at?"
Igor started. Richard was frowning at him. Damn.
"You look awful with your hair like that."
Richard rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me if I've just got out of the shower and haven't styled it yet. Man..." He shook his head and disappeared into the bedroom.
Igor took a deep breath. He would have to be more careful. He had managed to save the situation this time, but what if Richard caught him staring again and he couldn't think of a believable excuse? He was afraid that was going to happen very soon, using his brain was extremely difficult when his friend was standing half naked just a few feet away.
He needed a cigarette.
"Could you please open the window when you smoke?"
Igor was relieved to see Richard walk out of the bedroom wearing a pair of jeans and an old jumper; the less skin he saw, the better. The guitarist's hair was still moist but ruffled now, and all Igor wanted to do was bury his face in it, close his eyes and just smell it.
God, he couldn't be so smitten, it was ridiculous.
"Are you all right?" Richard asked. He had opened the window and was looking intently at him, hip leaning against the table and arms folded across his chest.
"Yes, of course I'm all right." Igor hoped Richard didn't notice how bad his hands were shaking.
"You sure? You've been acting weird lately."
Yes, he had been acting weird. But how could he act normal? Every time he closed his eyes he saw Richard lying next to him, flushed and sweaty and throwing his head back in ecstasy. Every time he got lost in thought he could feel the lingering touch of Richard's lips on his, his friend's tongue shyly brushing the corner of his mouth, his moan as Igor had bitten his lower lip. And the way he had looked at him just after he'd come...
"You know you can tell me anything, right? You're my best friend."
Igor took a deep drag from his cigarette. Yes, he knew that. And he didn't want to risk their friendship just because he had suddenly found himself lusting after Richard. But suppressing his feelings and pretending everything was all right was slowly driving him insane. They had been living together for just a few hours and he had already caught himself fantasising about him twice. Things could only get worse.
"What... What would you do if there was someone you've known for a long time and suddenly you realise being friends isn't enough anymore?"
Richard looked surprised.
"Well... I think I would give it a try."
"Even with the risk of losing a friendship that's very important to you?"
"Do you think this person would run away if she knew about your feelings?"
Igor thought it over. No, Richard wouldn't run away. Things would get awkward, what with living together and everything, maybe they wouldn't be as close as they were now... But he would never abandon him.
"No, he... she wouldn't."
"Then give it a go. If she cares about you, even just as a friend, she's not going to disappear from your life. And who knows, maybe she's feeling the same way and she's secretly pining for you."
Igor smiled. He doubted Richard woke up in the middle of the night with an aching hard-on after having a very detailed dream involving the two of them, a desert beach and some vanilla ice cream. Although, knowing his love for milk, he wouldn't exclude the possibility of his friend having wet dreams featuring only the ice cream.
"Maybe you should just, you know, take it slow? No one can resist an good, old-fashioned courtship."
Igor's smile turned into an outright grin. Richard had asked for it.
+++
Richard yawned, not bothering to put a hand before his mouth as he entered the kitchen.
"D'you make coffee?"
"Go back to bed."
Igor was standing at the table with his back to the door. He didn't turn round as he spoke.
The blonde frowned, brain still foggy from sleep. "What?"
"Go back to bed," the drummer repeated.
Richard scratched the back of his head and did as he was told; he was too sleepy to argue. He had just sat down on the bed, when Igor entered the bedroom carrying a tray. Richard blinked.
"Are you bringing me breakfast in bed?"
"Budge up," Igor said and laid the tray down on the quilt, careful not to spill the coffee. He had put together some toasted bread, cheese, butter and milk. Richard grinned; Igor knew how much he liked milk.
"Is it my birthday?"
Igor shrugged. "I woke up early and thought it would be nice to make breakfast for us both."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "Aren't the words 'Igor' and 'wake up early' a contradiction in terms?"
"Ha ha." The drummer picked up a slice of bread and started munching on it.
The guitarist smiled at him. "I know why you're doing all this."
Igor tried not to choke on his mouthful. "What d'you mean?"
"I'm not stupid, you know."
The piece of bread felt huge as he gulped it down.
"You don't need to fuss over me like this, I'm all right. I think I've finally got over Anja."
Igor didn't know whether he should laugh or slam his forehead against the wall in frustration. The idiot thought he was making all this effort in order to help him forget that bitch?
He would have to think of something more direct.
+++
A week had passed and Igor was starting to lose hope. He had tried everything he could think of: turning casual touches into lingering caresses, paying random compliments, casting glances that usually made girls blush and look down with an embarrassed smile. One evening he had even walked into the kitchen wearing only a pair of faded old jeans and leaned against the table next to Richard, trying to look sexy and tempting, but his friend had only raised an eyebrow and told him to put on some clothes if he didn't want to catch pneumonia.
Now he was sitting on his sofa bed, reading some comics and trying not to pout too much.
"Hey, Igor! We're out of milk!" Richard popped his blonde head into the doorway. "I'm going down to the grocer's, do you need anything?"
Igor shrugged and grimaced; his shoulders and neck had been hurting for a couple of days. He rubbed his left shoulder and went on reading.
"Are you all right?" Richard asked and walked inside.
"Yeah. My neck's just a bit stiff, that's all."
"Is it because of the bed? Do you want to swap rooms?"
"Don't be silly, you'd never fit on this sofa."
"Maybe we should buy another bed."
"We can't afford to buy new furniture."
"Right. I hadn't thought about that, but, well, Bine and her girlfriend didn't really need a second bed..."
'And we wouldn't either, if you just opened your eyes, you big idiot.'
"Wait." Richard sat down next to Igor. "Turn around."
Igor frowned. "Why?"
The blonde put his hands on Igor's shoulders and turned him around. "I'll give you a massage."
Igor tensed up. Richard wanted to what?
"No wonder your neck hurts, your muscles are all knotted up." Richard put his hands between Igor's shoulder blades and started rubbing the drummer's tense back.
Igor closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. Damn, Richard was good.
"Take off your shirt."
Igor's eyes snapped open. "What?"
"Your shirt gets in the way, take it off. Come on, I've already seen you naked."
Well, this was an opportunity he could take advantage of. Igor took off his shirt and lay down on his stomach. He gasped a little as he felt Richard's warm hands on his skin, working on his sore muscles as if he had done nothing else in his life. He couldn't suppress a moan as the rough fingertips slid down along his spine and then up to the nape of his neck. He felt like he was melting.
"Better?"
"Yeah. You're good." Igor smiled. Time to take things a bit further. "With the way you massage and the way you kiss, I almost wish I were a girl."
Richard's hands stopped for a moment, then he went back to rubbing, moving down to the drummer's lower back. If things went on like that, Igor was afraid he would just start humping the sofa. Or turn around and jump on Richard.
"It's just a back rub, nothing special."
"Oh no, you've pretty much reduced me to a boneless lump, you could do anything to me right now." He gave a little moan and shifted against the cushions, muscles flexing under Richard's palms. "And you're a great kisser."
"Ah... Thanks."
Did Richard sound... Embarrassed? Igor propped himself up on his elbows and turned around. His friend was biting his lower lip and looking at him as if he wanted to say something. Then he looked away and stood up.
"So, I'll just go buy milk and... uhm... something to eat. See you later."
Igor stared after Richard as he hurriedly left the room. He didn't want to get his hopes high, but there was definitely something weird in Richard's behaviour. Maybe his "courtship" was finally starting to work. Maybe it had been the massage, Richard had enjoyed touching him and now he was confused, a little scared even. If he hadn't run away like that, if Igor had just caught his wrist and pulled him back. He would have held him and told him there was nothing to be afraid or ashamed of, that he felt the same. Then he would have kissed him and undressed him and...
Damn, his jeans were starting to get uncomfortable. He reclined back and unzipped his fly. He was home alone, after all. And after the massage Richard had just given him, there was no way he could go on reading his comics. He closed his eyes and thought of Richard's hands. He had noticed how long and thin his friend's fingers were, and now he knew how good they felt. He was sure they would feel amazing wrapped around his cock. He had wanted to take it slow, draw things out, but his mind started imagining all sort of things those fingers could do to him and he found himself unable to slow down.
He was so far gone, he didn't hear the front door open.
"Igor, I'm out of money. Could you lend me five..."
Igor opened his eyes. Richard was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He knew he should stop, he knew he should find something to cover himself, he knew he should tell Richard to fucking knock instead of just barging in. But he couldn't control his own body anymore, it was too late and he was too close and Richard was just standing there, watching him masturbate. He only managed to gasp out "Richard!" before his eyes rolled back and his whole body tensed, dozens of tiny white lights exploding behind his closed eyelids.
He just lay there, sticky and sweaty, trying to catch his breath.
When he opened his eyes again, Richard was gone.
-----
July 2008