A/N: Here's a little one shot to tide you guys over until my next updates on Cuddle Buddy and After School Thrills.

I wrote this months ago and have no desire to continue it, but I thought you guys and gals might like it :)

[x]

Come here

Jaime paused long enough to read the text message before scoffing and tossing his phone back on the table. He effortlessly rejoined the party, more content with shooting things than entertaining a friend's abrupt texts. Well, fuck buddy. Whatever.

His fingers dashed and reached over the keyboard, the chatter of his group loud in his ears as they called for medic and cover. Largely, he ignored them. They wouldn't be dying so much if they actually knew how to play the damn game. But that's what he got for joining randoms, a headache.

He was just contemplating removing his headset when his phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up. He ignored it, too.

Fifteen minutes later, and the round was finally finished. His team had won, somehow. Looking at the scoreboard at the end, he, unsurprisingly, had dragged them to victory.

"Good work guys, excellent teamwork!"

Jaime held in a laugh.

Yeah.

Excellent.

It was only because the developers had implemented restrictions to keep people from playing themselves to death that he peeled himself from his chair and stretched. He was just about to head downstairs to the kitchen when he spotted his phone from his peripheral. He vaguely remembered getting a text from Lyle. No doubt he'd been blowing up his phone since then… he swore, the guy was a needy fuck. I need help with this or come with me to the movies or fix me dinner. Didn't he have a mother for those things?

Stubbornly, Jaime continued to ignore it and went in search for food. Whatever it was Lyle needed, it could wait.

[x]

"Why isn't he answering the phone? Why isn't he answering the goddamn phone? Holy fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

"Calm down!"

"Shut up!" Lyle immediately covered his face, regretting his outburst. He could feel his sister's eyes on him, like two needles pricking into his skin. She was judging him. He didn't blame her. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice cracking, "I just… I just…"

Ann sighed. "I know. You need him. I understand." She paused, her needled eyes glancing away from her brother's hunched over form. "It's just sickening how much you do."

Lyle didn't disagree.

From an outsider's point of view, he was all but lovesick. It wasn't anything he could help. Every second of every day, he felt trapped, and alone. Jaime was hardly prince charming, but when he was around, Lyle felt free. He felt normal. And when they fucked, he felt secure. Lyle had met many people over his lifetime, but no one could fill that gaping hole better. That feeling of needing to be validated, to be appreciated, to be… human.

Shuddering, Lyle rubbed at his arms.

He never asked for this.

[x]

By the time he sat back down at his computer, Jaime had forgotten all about Lyle until his phone began ringing.

Instead of Lyle's name appearing on the screen, it was Ann's. He hesitated.

Unlike her brother, Ann was a loose cannon. She was no nonsense and frighteningly strong. The one time he had back talked her, his jaw had been knocked askew. Any sane person would have called the cops or never bother to talk to either of them again, but despite his moans and groans, he did enjoy Lyle's company, plus he wasn't about to let some chick frighten him off.

Steeling himself, he answered the call.

"Yo."

"Get your ass over here."

His eyebrows shot up at that. "Um, demanding much? I thought that was your brother's job."

"It would be," she said coldly, "if he wasn't on the floor puking his brains out."

He didn't mean to, but he laughed. "Did he get drunk?" He had no idea Lyle could get down like that…

She didn't entertain him. "You have one hour to get here. If you're not knocking on that door."

Ann didn't have to let her voice trail off. She didn't have to raise or lower her tone. All she had to do was say it like it was normal conversation, and Jaime would be throwing himself from his bedroom window, broken limbs be damned.

"Um… s-sure."

They hung up, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. The sandwich he had made sat heavy in his stomach. He knew he shouldn't have ignored Lyle's texts. But it wasn't like it was the first time he had put him on the back burner. Normally he'd understand, not sic Ann on him.

Feeling queasy, he opened the messages (twenty six in total), and scrolled through them with growing nausea.

Are you coming?

Please text me back

I need you

It's serious this time

Where are you?

Jaime?

Please

I'll be good I won't bother you too much

I'll suck your dick promise I won't spit it out

Come here

Jaime

Please

The rest were just please until they abruptly dropped off. The messages were all sent in the span of ten minutes.

"What in the actual fuck," he muttered, taking a breath.

If he wasn't drunk, then he was definitely on drugs.

[x]

When he got there, he found the front door unlocked.

The sibling's parents never seemed to be home, and he'd known them for about two years. Even so, he felt slightly uncomfortable walking through the house. It was quiet. Eerily quiet. He didn't dare call out and headed for the stairs, taking them extra slowly until he lifted his head and noticed Ann standing at the top, her arms at her side.

"Oh, hey," he greeted, waving.

"Come on."

Ugh, what a bitch.

Arms crossed, he stomped after her.

"He seriously better be sick, or I'm going to report you for ha-"

The sound of anguished choking cut him off mid threat, swiftly followed by wet splatter and a sob. His stomach dropped. Ann gave him a single look then pointed towards the bathroom. He almost asked her why she didn't just take him to the hospital but thought better of it.

He soon found Lyle on the floor, hunched over the toilet. His shirt was discarded, and he was sweating, profusely. His hair, the deepest black he had ever seen was splayed over his shoulders and back. His body was pretty much quivering.

"Jesus, man," he whispered, "what's wrong with you?"

At the sound of his voice Lyle slowly lifted his head and looked around at him. His face was flushed, his eyes wild. Recognition and happiness lifted his grimace.

"Jaime…"

"Are you, are you dying?" he had to ask, because if he was, there was no way in hell he was about to stick around. He hated the police. They'd just find something to pin on him, like DNA, because Lyle was weird. Very weird. He honestly wouldn't be surprised if he kept all their used condoms and collected his cum in a jar. Sometimes he had to wonder why he kept coming around; it wasn't like he was the best or only piece of ass he could hit up.

Lyle stared at him for a moment before giving his head a little shake no. Good. Then bad, because he was suddenly turning green and vomiting.

Jaime hesitated, then went to him. He carefully knelt down on the floor and set his hand on the other male's back. He was burning to the touch. "How long you been praying to the toilet gods?"

"To- toilet gods?"

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Stupid joke. Answer the question. How long?"

Lyle wiped at his mouth, "Dunno, maybe an hour?"

"Jesus! Look, I'm no expert on this, but I know a thing or two and you need to drink some water or something. Can you stand up?"

"I-"

Without waiting for him, Jaime fit his arms around his chest and hefted. Luckily for him, Lyle weighed next to nothing, even when he was dead weight. A little voice reminded him that Lyle might throw up again, but he threw caution to the wind and maneuvered them towards the shower. With a little push, he had Lyle sprawled at the bottom of the tub. He cut on the water.

"The cold should help," he said, adjusting the temperature accordingly. "So you sit there and cool off while I grab some aspirin. Seriously, what the hell." Shaking his head, Jaime backed out of the bathroom. As soon as he shut the door, he found Ann waiting for him. Her expression hadn't once changed.

"The fuck you lookin' at?" he asked. "Lyle's in there dying and you're just ladeda. Why is this my responsibility?"

"You're his lover, aren't you?"

He nearly laughed. "Every now and then, but that has nothing to do with it. You're his fuckin' family!" He glanced to the closed door, sneering. "You know what, I don't care. You can do whatever you want. I'll be doctor Jaime. S'all good. He promised me head in his frantic texts, so maybe tonight will just be my lucky night after all." He shouldered past her to head back down the stairs. Vaguely, he swore he heard her mutter about how he was a "disgusting little child".

The only thing disgusting around here was her.

He found a nearly empty bottle of generic aspirin sitting next to the kitchen sink, along with about two dozen plastic cups of various colors. They were all half full of water. Raising an eyebrow at it, Jaime grabbed a clean one from the cabinet and the bottle, stuffing it in his pocket as he made the long slough back upstairs. For seemingly just the two of them, the house was ridiculously large. It was like a mini mansion, easily costing half a million dollars. The only best explanation he could come up with was that they had inherited the property somehow or were swimming in some large monetary inheritance. Whatever the case, it smelled suspicious, especially when Lyle would instantly change the subject when he brought it up.

It really wasn't any of his business, he knew, but that didn't mean he wanted to be caught up in some rich kid's scandal.

"Al right, here you— what the."

When he left Lyle, he seemed content letting the water rush over him, but sometime during his absence he had wanted to save his clothes.

His pants were now halfway down his thighs, his socks haphazardly thrown over the side, sopping wet. The side of his face rested against the tiled wall, eyes closed and heavily panting. He had given up the task.

Jaime set the stash on the sink and rushed over. "You're so pathetic," he mumbled, helping him finish undress. He adjusted the temperature to a slightly warmer setting and retrieved the cup and pills. "Here, wash your mouth out first," he ordered, "and take these."

Lyle mumbled out a 'thanks' and did as told. It took him an achingly long time to swish the water around and spit it out, and watching him swallow the pills seemed like he was seconds away from choking to death. It was ridiculous.

"So, what happened to you? And be honest. You drank too many shots of tequila, didn't you?"

"I don't drink."

"Nasty batch of drugs?"

"I don't… do that, either."

"Food poisoning?"

"Maybe…"

"So…?"

"I missed you."

Jaime scoffed. "Don't change the subject, I'm trying to help you out."

"But- but I did." Lyle caught his gaze. His eyes had always been this weird dark blue, nearly black, and now the lights were making weird shapes appear in them. The first time they had had sex and they glowed like that, it had weirded Jaime out. He always assumed they were contacts or something equally mundane, but in all the time he'd known him, he'd only seen it when they were alone. "I haven't seen you in a week. It was too much."

"What was too much?"

But Lyle didn't say. He never said anything when it came to personal matters. He was content to keep it all in his head. He could be dying of some weird disease and he'd never say a word of it to Jaime. There could have been hundreds of reasons why. Jaime knew he wasn't easy to get along with, so maybe he thought he'd dismiss it or laugh at him or treat it like it didn't bother him. But it did bother him. Lyle was weird. Ann was weird. Everything about their family, their home, their speech, their lives, it was all weird. But it was endearing as well. Jaime didn't know how to explain it, but if something were to happen to Lyle, he wouldn't know what to do. Sure his life would be quieter and he could finally play shooters in peace, but there would be a hole somewhere inside him, a hole that Lyle had somehow punched just for himself. Jaime didn't like to have feelings like this, but he did.

And no one could ever find out.

"Drink some water," he said stiffly, standing.

Lyle looked up at him. His expression was insecure. "Are you leaving?"

God he was pathetic. Pathetic and insanely cute. He better keep his promise. "No, dumbass. I'm gonna go fluff your pillows so that when you're done, you can relax." He hesitated. "And brush your teeth."

Lyle just nodded, his body relaxed now that he knew Jaime wasn't going anywhere.

[x]

As soon as he was alone, Lyle promptly regurgitated the pills.

When he first started getting pangs, he thought they would help with his ache, but they just sat uselessly in the bottom of his stomach, and he didn't need the extra discomfort. The water was good though, he enjoyed that.

He wished he had snagged a kiss from Jaime before he left the bathroom, but the promise that he'd still be there gave him hope and the energy to pick himself up. For a few more precious minutes he stood under the spray of the water, letting it wash away his sweat and mess. With an emptier stomach he felt ravishness set in, but took the time to do as told and load his toothbrush up with paste. Through trial and error, he knew not to go too fast or hard, but it was agonizing.

Jaime was here, and despite his constant complaining, he was going to take care of him.

He wondered if he should tell Jaime everything. It was hard keeping a secret from someone he held so high up, but Ann was right. He wouldn't understand. He'd think it some joke. He'd leave and never return, and if he did that, Lyle would have to leave, too. He liked this place. It was fun. It was liberating. It was everything he ever wanted. He wished he could be more like his sister. She adapted much better. She didn't need anyone. She was strong and he was weak. If they weren't family, she would have left him a long time ago.

And the thought sucked.

When he finally left the wrecked bathroom, he found Jaime right where he said he would be, lounging on his bed like he owned it. He had haphazardly changed the sheets and pillowcases, the soiled ones tossed in a hulking corner near the closet. He had his shoes kicked off and was busy scrolling through his phone, one arm tucked behind his head.

Adoration flooded Lyle. Jaime was difficult, but he could still be nice.

"Hi."

Jaime lowered his phone long enough to give him a quick up down. "Better."

Lyle approached, waited a second for permission, then mentally scolded himself. He shouldn't act so subservient.

With a huff, he plopped down beside Jaime, his eyes shuttered closed in bliss.

"Did you use a blow dryer?" Jaime asked after a moment.

Lyle lifted his head, confused for but a moment before realizing what he meant. His hair, it was fully dry. "Er, yeah."

Jaime said nothing to that and reached over, his phone resting on his chest. He began to run his fingers through the soft strands, and very unconsciously, he smiled. Lyle thought he was beautiful. With rugged golden skin and no-nonsense green eyes, he looked like a model for those clothing ads he saw at the mall. Cool, masculine, and sturdy. Everyone said he was too mean looking for a waif such as himself, whatever that meant, but Lyle felt that he knew Jaime better than those people. He was practical and good. An asshole at times, but good.

Jaime's eyes flitted about his face, then with a grunt, he pushed himself to lie on his side, his phone now between them. With his fingers tightening in his hair, he drew Lyle close for a kiss. It was almost tentative at first, as though he were unsure if this was a good time for it, but Lyle leaned further in and adjusted his body so that their fronts were pressed more together, Jaime's broader chest feeling like a fleshy barrier.

Maybe it wasn't perfect and maybe it was dependent, but for Lyle, this was all he ever wanted.

"How are you feeling?" Jaime asked, his hand now drifting down to soothe along his back. Ultimately, he couldn't resist squeezing his butt.

"Much better."

Jaime hummed and brought his hand around, his fingers now tracing slow paths around Lyle's front. "You really should tell me what happened, so I can avoid it in the future."

Lyle tried not to hesitate, but he did. Everything he said now would sound like a lie, which was true because lies were all he had. He opted not to say anything, and meekly took whatever complaint or backhand comment that spilled from Jaime's mouth. Most people would say he was abusive, but Lyle knew better. He was worried, and when he was worried, his innate personality went up to eleven.

After a moment Jaime sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled over onto his back. With no amount of care, he reached down to palm his crotch. "Man, you really spoil the mood, you know that? I don't get why you don't just tell me. I'm starting to think you and your sister are in some cult, or from another planet." The comment almost made his breath hitch. Almost. "You have any idea how bizarre you guys are?" He turned his head to look at him, mouth down turned. "For fucks sake, Lyle, let me help you."

"You are helping me," Lyle insisted, scooting closer, "by being here, you're helping." He reached out and touched his scruff. "And I ask again, please respect our boundaries. It's nothing against you."

Jaime glared.

Well, when words never worked…

"I'm sorry for killing the mood," he whispered while seamlessly crawling over the other male to straddle him. "Let me fix that."

Immediately, Jaime set his hands about his hips, though the frown persisted. Usually this worked, but now Jaime just looked done with his shit. He supposed he couldn't blame him. If he had come across his friend in the same situation, he'd be flustered and annoyed at the obvious evasion for answers, too. Maybe one day, he could tell him, but the time wasn't right. Sometimes, he wondered if it would ever be right.

[x]

Despite how pissed he was, Jaime was only human.

Less than a minute of Lyle going down on him, and he was instantly forgiven.

His fingers tangled in that too unreal hair, nails digging into scalp to the point where he thought he'd break his skull. He could be as rough as he wanted, and Lyle never cried or complained. It was almost like he couldn't feel it. Jaime had many, many questions, but if there was one thing he learned about having friends with benefits, it was never to question someone's kink. He'd had many partners over the years, but there was something about Lyle that kept him coming back for more.

Was it those pretty blue eyes, flashing strangely in the light?

Was it his alabaster skin or puffy pink lips or the delicate way his brows narrow when he concentrates?

Was it the way he flicked his tongue just right? The way he deep throats him and swallows without choking? The way he squeezes his balls or fingers his ass or moans extra loudly?

Was it because… he isn't… human?

Jaime's breath caught. His body went rigid and he buckled.

"Fu- fuck…"

Lyle stared at him from between his spread thighs, the constant up down motion mesmerizing. He was mesmerizing. His lips were tight around his dick, his nostrils flaring. It was hard to believe that just half an hour ago, he was down on his knees, sick, weak, unable to move. Something about Jaime's presence helped him— cured him. But how? Why?

Lyle was human. It was a stupid thing to think otherwise. He was real and fleshy and weird and special. He liked Jaime more than he should've, and they were friends. But he was keeping secrets. Too many secrets. But what?

With an indecent slurp, Lyle came off. He was breathing heavily, but still he kept a hand wrapped about Jaime's hardness, fisting it almost to the point of completion. It was amazing that his hands were just as good as his warm, wet mouth.

"Why are you stopping?" he demanded anyway, his elbows perched on the bed so he could glare at him from higher ground. "You said you'd swallow."

"I will," Lyle breathed, and despite it he pumped him faster. Jaime immediately gripped the sheets, his fingertips tingling.

"Then- oh, oh god- just- Lyle-" His hips jerked, he was close. Just a few more seconds and- "You stupid air-headed lying sack of fuuucck…"

Groaning, Jaime threw his head back, his elbows giving way for him to softly plop back on the bed. Lyle was on him, sucking, hard, and swallowing his seed down with gulps that were audible. Jaime could do nothing but twitch and hump without conscious, his mind a blank slate of contentedness.

When it was over, he numbly held his arms open for Lyle to crawl into. He never particularly liked showing off his fond side to Lyle, but alone in the room, gifted with an amazing blowjob, he figured it was the courteous thing to do.

"Jaime," Lyle murmured, nuzzling against his neck, his breath warm, "oh Jaime…" There was an odd possessiveness in his voice, but that might have been because of his overworked throat. Nevertheless, Jaime coaxed him into looking up so that they could kiss, semen and drool plastered all over his lips and chin. Jaime normally hated tasting his own jizz, but he licked and suckled at his lover's mouth, cleaning him, until they settled, sedated. "Are you staying?"

Jaime shrugged, his fingers once again drifting through that magnificent mane of hair, "If you want me to. I got nothing to do until work."

Lyle nodded, and within seconds, dozed off.

For a while Jaime continued petting him, his eyes faraway.

Something wasn't right. He should be running. Lyle and Ann were trouble.

He faltered, unsure, then relaxed, his eyes closing.

Yes they were trouble, but he kinda enjoyed that.

[x]

A/N: If you haven't figured it out by now, Lyle and Ann are aliens.