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in the palm of your hand

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Katya slams the door behind him and nearly drops to his knees to thank God that he lives alone. If somebody was here to see the way he kicks off his shoes and rushes to the bedroom, dick chubbing up at the mere thought of some contact, he would simply have to change his name. Become a Barbara or a Denise, and live out his days on a farm.

It had been an endless day, hours of waiting and almost and touches that weren’t quite enough. It was great though! He was coping, he was used to it, he was desensitized. They spent the whole morning recording for the pod, huddled together on Trixie’s couch. It’s always fun when they get to talk shit together. It’s Katya’s favorite thing. They were joking and chatting and it was fine until Trixie, in all his bald, soft, pink glory, crumpled into Katya when he made an especially good joke, legs wriggling as he screeched out a laugh. He was all warm golden soft skin and Katya had stuttered, breath catching, and waited for Trixie to right himself. There was a pause, silence deafening, until their guest said something insane and Katya grabbed Trixie’s wrist, squeezing hard in punishment. It hadn’t done a thing to deter Trixie though, never does. He always responds by letting his wrist go limp and cutting a glance under his lashes, his eyes pretty, brown, and glassy. That was the beginning of Katya’s decline into madness.

It only got worse from there. Katya barely held onto a single thing that they were saying, busy trying to reel his thoughts in. He’d been forced to beg Trixie for a smoke break every twenty minutes, just to breathe in some air that wasn’t contaminated with the sharp fresh smell of his best friend. He always looks like such a man out of drag, smells like one too. It makes Katya want to bury his nose behind his ear, lick his neck, watch his skin erupt in goosebumps. Trixie, ever accommodating had acquiesced, letting him out onto the balcony where he stood, sucking down nicotine until his head stopped spinning.

The cigarettes helped him make it long enough to beg off for lunch. Trixie had understood immediately when he said he wanted to go home, eat his own food. He always understands, is fastidious in his support of Katya’s needs. So he sent Katya home with a final squeeze on the arm and a gay little wave.

Now Katya’s standing in his bedroom, arms useless at his side, dick half chubbed in his jeans. He shakes his head, suppressing the urge to hide his face. God, he’s really here again, running home just to furiously jerk off to the thought of his best friend. It would be a new low if it was the first time, but it’s not even the first time this week. He feels like he’s going insane. He sighs and runs his hands over his chest, down his thighs, brushing his hand over his dick.

Trixie has to be doing it on purpose, he has to be. Katya’s crazy but he hasn’t lost total touch with reality, mama. They’re in this together, he’s certain of it. Katya sees the way Trixie touches him just to see him shift in his seat. He always smiles that little self satisfied smile when Katya reaches out for him mid laughter. Trixie watches him, and Katya’s always watching right back. When he got up to get them water Katya had just stared at him, arm stretched along the back of the couch, looking at the swell of his ass in his stupid pink sweatpants. When he came back to sit down, his back pressed hot against the length of Katya's arm. They hadn’t mentioned it, but Katya could feel the baby hairs on the back of Trixie’s neck straining towards his fingers.

He’s hard in earnest now, but he’s teasing, drawing it out. Once he gets a fist around himself it’s over. His hand comes up, brushing over his nipples through the shirt, and he lets out a sharp gasp before putting his knuckle in his mouth and biting down. The sharp bite of his teeth keeps him grounded. He’s trying to make it last more than thirty fucking seconds but he doesn’t know if he can. He thinks about the pink of Trixie’s tongue, the way Katya can see all the way to the back of his crooked teeth when he laughs, the line of his throat when his head is tipped back. He can’t stand it. He slips his hand into his pants and gets his fist around his dick. It’s tight and hot and it feels so good that he lets out an embarrassing groan.

He knows Trixie is never gonna be his, not the way he wants. There’s too much history, too much has happened, but lately, every time they hang out it’s easy to forget a little. He knows the sex would be good -- knows enough about Trixie and what he likes to know that they would work in that respect. It's everything else that’s holding them back. Trixie always says it's because he’s Pollyanna but that's not really why. It’s because there's too much pressure, too much history.

They had their moment. Katya remembers precisely what it felt like to sleep next to Trixie. The way his skin was smooth and sticky with heat, his open mouth breathing hot air against Katya’s chest. He’s been so desperate that night, but Trixie had begged him, eyes wide and sad, to stop making him say no. And Katya had listened and never brought it up again. He let the idea of pounding Trixie out stay internalized forever. And it was okay. Katya let the want become a dull ache, let them grow apart for a bit, let it fade until he could spend time around Trixie without feeling his heart pound. He’s grateful to be his friend, to spend time with him. He’s honored to be close to him. But none of that changes the fact that they both know that if they ever give in the sex will be mindbending.

His dick is so hard, a little wet from how he’s leaking. His hips are pushing up, begging for the relief of tight hot fast strokes but he’s holding out. He knows Trixie would make him work for it, rile Katya up until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and then just collapse into him. He knows Trixie likes it a little gross, just this side of painful and overwhelming. He wants to give it to him, wants to give him whatever he wants.

Katya caves and gets his fist around his dick, hips pumping into it, meeting the rhythm of his hand. He’d eat Trixie out for hours, until he was a puddle on the sheets, begging for release. He said he’d go along with a lot. Maybe he’d let Katya grab him, manhandle him, leave little finger shaped marks on his hips, a bite mark on the smooth globe of his ass. Katya’s hand is speeding up. He gathers the precome leaking from his head, and smooths it down the shaft. It feels so good that his eyes roll back in his head. He bites his lip, arm flexing as he pumps.

He’d fuck Trixie. Once he was loose and supple. He’d look at him while he did it too. Watch his face go slack, his eyes lose focus, his brain leak out of his ears. Watch the light shine off the round smooth surface of his head. He wouldn’t let Trixie touch either. Make him squirm and beg until Katya couldn't take it anymore. Then he’d pull out and stroke one, two, three before painting Trixie’s stomach with his come, reaching out to rub it in absently, gathering it in his fingers to push into Trixie’s stupid open mouth. That’s how he’s finally let Trixie come: with Katya’s fingers in his mouth and fist around his dick.

He’s speeding up, hand meeting his hip over and over. He can hear his phone buzzing but he can’t stop. He glances over to see it light up with notifications from Trixie. He's to far gone though. His head is full of images flashing through: Trixie’s pretty brown eyes, the line of his jaw, the way he can spot the little hairs at the line of his wig behind his ear, his neck, the way his jaw goes slack whenever someone surprises him, his stupid vacant expression, the way he moves when he’s particularly proud of a look, the way he shrinks around a blush when Katya teases him. Katya’s pumping faster and faster and he finally comes with a shout, spilling over his fist.

He immediately feels sheepish, wiping his hand on his thigh, and getting up to go to the bathroom and wash his hands. He feels a little bad for reducing the most important relationship in his life to sexual attraction. He loves Trixie and he wants him around forever, and he’s not in the business of jeopardizing that. It’s fine. He comes back to reality, lists out reasons that he loves the real Trixie, not the one in the fantasy, and focuses on what he cares about. He’s handling it. He splashes water on his face before swiping to unlock his phone. He has a missed call from Trixie and a text.

Trixie: When are you coming back?
Trixie: I told violet to call at 1:30 is that enough time?

Katya unlocks his phone and types out a response letting Trixie know that he will be there in 20. He stares at himself in the mirror for a beat before leaving, grabbing something to eat and heading back to Trixie’s.