so I have been trying to write smut for like a week and nothing is coming out - all I have is feelings and Jolly Rancher not-kisses. So here's like 600 words of conflicted emotions and the least graphic masturbation session in the world... there might be more to this story too, idk. Let me know if you want more, I guess. fic under the cut for brevity

Rhett’s just happy about them finally shooting the damn camping vlog. They decide to do the joke with the Jolly Rancher, end up with their lips pressed together and think "Okay, bam, done. Kiss over. Beasts happy. Now we're good." They're so far into professional mode that it doesn't mean anything at that point. Link has a good giggle with their lips touching and the apple Jolly Rancher in both of their mouths, until they pull away and Link sucks it fully into his. It’s his favorite after all. They bump shoulders and make faces at Stevie behind the camera and the night goes on.

Except...

Except it's three weeks later and Rhett dreams about it at night. Just once. But once is enough to put it back in his head. In the dream they were in the forest, but they were alone - playing a game and seeing how close they could get to kissing with a piece of candy. The fire was warm and the air smelled like trees and smoke and fake apple and Link's hair product and it's all he can do to keep his hands to himself. In the dream it doesn't stop - the candy disappears but their lips stay locked.

Link's lips are soft and smooth, and he hums so sweetly when he's being kissed. There's no rush to it because they have all the time in the world. When they pull apart to breathe they can't look away - Rhett sees the fire reflecting in his best friend's eyes and he sees their past, their present, and the future flickering there too. He cups Link’s jaw in his hand, thumb rubbing against scruff, and grounds himself in his love.

He wakes up with a gasp - tears running down his cheeks and the hardest erection he's had in a long time. He shuffles into the bathroom, cranks the nozzle on the shower, and steps in to take care of both of those things. As his hand wraps around his cock he has thousands of memories of Link to call on, and for the first time in a long time he's considering using one of them to get off.

He sees dream-Link, with his camping clothes on and his soft, tousled hair – it’s growing longer again and he looks like a reflection of a different man. Rhett’s mind flashes to long hair, dark, inky against the pillow case in a hotel bed between shoots. His soft snuffling snores drew Rhett to take a picture of a brief moment of downtime as they build their futures together. He hears the same snores coming from the bunk below him in college, his best friend right there by his side as they try and figure out the world.

None of the thoughts are even sexual, although he has enough memories of Link biting his lip, thrusting his hips, and making the sweetest moans in the world to power a hundred jerk-off fantasies. No, it’s the memory of Link’s laugh from the night before as they drove home together from a meeting that does it - giggling at some joke he’d made as they passed a Dairy Queen. He’s shooting all over the shower wall, legs quaking beneath him. He steadies himself with a hand and leans into the hot water, trying to catch his breath. He lets out a single syllable as a curse as parts of his life seem to rearrange themselves all at once in his head.

“Fuck.”