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Getting kissed for the first time at the age of eighteen was Neteyam Sully’s most embarrassing secret.
It wasn’t like he didn’t want it before, it just never happened. He was just… busy.
He rarely got enough time for himself, let alone other people. So he kept to himself, mostly.
Sure, he knew of other people his age, whether it was from his clubs, the school council or class. He sometimes stayed behind after class to tutor the ones struggling the most and during his training he often helped the others.
He was on top of everything he did and he was known for it well.
But he didn’t really have any friends.
When his family moved in the middle of his senior year, it was like the structure he built beneath him crumbled, making him sit in the rubble dazed and confused, wondering how to build it up again.
At his new school the student council already had members. There was no archery club and the track team was bursting at the seams with members. The other clubs were already filled.
So Neteyam suddenly found himself with a lap full of free time. So much that he didn’t even know what to do with himself. It unnerved him, the time he spent without set direction or purpose.
But in his class there was a boy.
Ao’nung.
He was the same age as him and just the type of attention seeking show-off Neteyam tried to avoid, usually. Not gifted academically, he was known by Neteyam for being on the swim team, as he often came from meets to class with curls still glistening with moisture. He spent most classes chuckling with his friends, rarely ever listening.
He proved to be just as dodgy as Neteyam predicted when he fought Lo’ak during the first week of the Sullys being there. Of course Neteyam ended up having to intervene, landing a few solid punches which ultimately led to them getting a two day suspension.
Afterwards, Ao’nung looked at Neteyam… funnily. Like he was impressed, or perhaps surprised. Sometimes, he even engaged him in smalltalk, nothing too relevant but just enough that Neteyam had to reply. He always seemed satisfied when Neteyam spoke.
It was inevitable that Neteyam got assigned as the boy’s tutor. There weren’t many tutors with free time anymore, but Neteyam just so happened to have a lapful of it.
On his own, Ao’nung proved to be a pleasant boy to talk to, Neteyam found himself oddly charmed at the other’s crude sense of humour. He was blunt and teased Neteyam during most of their time spent together, but Neteyam found that he didn’t mind.
He also realised the other was clever and picked up material with ease, just suffering from a lack of patience or care to learn it on his own.
And so they spent Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays together, in a little cafe not too far from school.
When Ao’nung passed the first test after their tutoring sessions started, he offered Neteyam a spot on the swim team, claiming the instructor was a family friend and could make space for him.
Neteyam accepted, partially because he was starting to burst at the seams with unused energy but also because he found himself longing for the other’s company.
So Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays turned into Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Sundays.
It started becoming a problem after one Saturday morning Neteyam woke up to uncomfortably tight underwear and the memory of hands, bigger than his own, on his hips, moving across his neck and chest.
The next day he cancelled their tutoring session, claiming he was ill. He did not, however, expect the other boy to show up at his door just a few minutes after messaging him of his troubles, furrowed brows looking over his very obviously not-ill features.
They seemed to be neighbours and of course Neteyam didn’t know.
Caught in his lie, Neteyam invited the other boy in. When he was questioned about it by his family, he explained he was trying tutoring from home, hurrying to his bedroom with the other boy in tow before anyone noticed the hands of the boy behind him lacked any books, notebooks or pens.
He motioned for the boy to step into his room, looking around the hallway before closing the door, locking it and leaning on it with his back.
The other was already running his gaze along Neteyam’s furniture and decor, silently making note of everything. He was silent for a moment.
“Your room’s neat.” He noted, looking at Neteyam expectantly.
Of course it was neat. Neteyam was a neat guy. The less mess he made, the less he had to clean up. It was simple logic to him.
He tried to agree verbally, but his words were stuck in his throat.
Ao’nung raised a brow.
“Turning mute on me, now?”
Neteyam gulped.
“No, no I just… Uh. Don’t know what to say.”
The other motioned to Neteyam’s bed in a question of Can I sit? Neteyam nodded, taking a seat on his own next to him. He sat stiff and still, fingers tangling in his lap.
“Why’d you lie? About being sick?”
Neteyam closed his eyes, inhaling.
“I’m not sure.”
Ao’nung leaned forward, looking at Neteyam’s face, studying him intently and entirely unconvinced.
“Well I know why, I just-” he covered his face, “It’s awkward.”
“Can’t be that weird, can it? What, did you have like a wet dream about me or something?” Ao’nung teased, chuckling.
Neteyam knew Ao’nung was just teasing, trying to sound as outlandish as possible, which only made the situation worse. It seemed like his silence was telling enough, since he heard the chuckling recede and a small intake of breath. He peeked through his fingers to see the other’s reddened face, eyes staring forward blankly.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I don’t know why, I’ve never even thought about you in that way and I’m not even gay and I know you think I’m gross now and I promise I won’t tell anyone!” Neteyam rambled.
The other’s hands crossed across his chest, eyes running across Neteyam’s face calculatingly. He was still silent.
Neteyam’s hands now cupped his own hot cheeks and he begged the other to say something, to just reply, yell at him and be done with it, but the other did no such thing.
He instead leaned forward, slowly, giving Neteyam enough time to move away.
One of his hands lifted to Neteyam’s face, two fingers tilting his face towards him.
And like a whisper, lips pressed against his own.
It ended almost as soon as it started, but Neteyam instinctively chased after the touch, leaning further towards the other before eventually stopping, opening his eyes when they separated.
Ao’nung was taking deep breaths through his nose, hands resting loosely on his lap. Neteyam’s were still hanging in the air under his chin, fingers intertwined, almost as if he were praying.
They were silent and the tension hung around them thickly.
“I’m not sure why I… Did that.” Ao’nung stated.
Neteyam’s heart raced, the sound echoing in his ears. Before he could think twice he leaned forward, gently pushing Ao’nung to lay back, hands on his shoulders as the other’s circled his waist. He gazed into the other’s eyes searching for any argument. He saw none, so he shut his eyes, leaning forward until he was met by chapped lips.
They didn’t spend much time studying that weekend.