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It starts when Jordan agrees to play Fortnite with him.
Jordan’s voice is soft, his laughter muffled. The night reigns; both Jordan and Tyler should be in bed, but Jay was sick, Josh was video-game inept, and Tyler would rather eat his foot than be paired with a random kid who spit out homophobic slurs as easily as breathing.
Jordan replied to Tyler’s text with no hesitation. He wanted to play with Tyler as much as Tyler wanted to play with him.
There’s a burning in Tyler’s gut at hearing Jordan laugh. The burn is persistent as it churns and fills Tyler’s stomach until it reaches the peak and overflows into his mouth.
He tries not to let it spill, but he smiles. He smiles.
It’s three in the morning.
“We should do this again sometime.” Jordan’s voice is low. He’s whispering. He’s yawning into his headset.
“Yeah.”
Tyler sleeps on the basement floor and wakes to a good-morning text.
*
Josh gets a dog.
Tyler sits on Josh’s couch and watches the puppy run circles around Josh’s legs, hopping on his paws, his tongue wide and pink. “What’s his name?” Tyler asks, pulling at the collar of his shirt.
“Jim.” Josh can’t take his eyes off Jim.
“Is he going on tour with us?”
“Tyler,” says Josh, and laughs. “Just pet him. It’s okay. See—” Swiftly, still laughing, Josh scoops Jim into his arms and sits on the couch cushion next to Tyler. Despite Tyler being a stranger, Jim doesn’t seek him out. He’s content in Josh’s arms, small enough to find pleasure before he grows. He doesn’t even react to Tyler’s shaking hand at the top of his golden head.
Cold, Tyler rubs Jim’s ears and swallows vomit. “He’s cute.”
Josh smells like nostalgia. “He is, isn’t he?”
*
Tyler doesn’t go on walks with Josh and Jim. He’s too busy. Josh isn’t hurt. He understands.
But when Jordan asks Tyler to go on walks with him and Jim, Tyler shuts off his computer. Jordan says, “You need to get out of the house,” and Tyler says, “I know.”
They’re going to the park.
“Have you met Jim yet?”
Jim bounces around Tyler now.
Tyler rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. He’s a good dog, I guess.”
Jordan doesn’t ask about the album. He does most of the talking. He speaks of food, video games, and hair clippers.
“Don’t shave your head,” Tyler says.
Jordan smiles, laughs. “I won’t. Don’t shave your head.”
Tyler smiles, doesn’t laugh. “I won’t.”
“Dude, you are lying to my face.” Jordan’s eyes are so bright they rival the sun. He has faint freckles across his collarbones.
“I’m not lying. I won’t shave my head… right now.”
Jordan laughs.
“But I will before tour,” Tyler adds.
It’s three in the afternoon.
Jordan hugs him. Jordan smells like wood chips and fire.
Jordan asks, “Did you drool on my shirt?”
Tyler says, “No.”
Jim butts his head into Tyler’s shin.
*
Like clockwork, Jordan innately knows when Tyler is climbing into bed and when Tyler is waking up. Despite not exchanging a single text throughout the day, there are good-morning texts and goodnight texts. There are wishes for a pleasant day and sweet dreams.
There are emojis. Tyler never uses emojis.
Jenna watches him text. He watches his thumbs text. “Josh?” She stares at him, a pillow obscuring half her face.
“No,” he says.
“Who?” she whispers, then, frowning.
“Jordan.”
Her lips press into a tiny O. She is quiet. She rolls over in bed. She smells like nostalgia, too.
*
Tyler never dreams of Jordan, like he does with Josh. He wonders what this means.
*
He plays Fortnite with Jordan every weekend. They carry on into the night.
One morning, as the sun rises, they each set aside their controllers to watch it rise together. From streets away, on different sides of town, the sun looks the same.
Then, they continue playing.
*
As they’re settling down for bed, Jenna says, “Tell me about Jordan.”
She’s smart. She already knows.
She pulls down the bed covers and fluffs the pillows.
Tyler chews on his lip. “He isn’t like Josh.”
She’s smart. She already knows.
“One night?” she asks.
“That’s all I need,” Tyler says.
“Is that all what he needs?”
Tyler closes his eyes.
*
Once, on a walk with Jordan and Jim, Jordan convinces Tyler to run with him. Tyler doesn’t realize how out of shape he is until Jordan is able to run another lap and he’s barely able to keep up after two.
“Drink,” Jordan says, and passes Tyler a water bottle.
Tyler drinks, Jordan wipes the sweat off his brow with the end of his shirt, and Tyler chokes.
Thank God—thank God—Jordan doesn’t notice.
Using both of his hands, Jordan presses his shirt to his face and breathes for a moment. Heavy, panting, shoulders rising and falling, Jordan is blind. Tyler watches beads of sweat roll down Jordan’s chest and down Jordan’s stomach to get caught in wiry, black hair. Lower… lower, Tyler wants to watch it go lower.
He guzzles down water.
Jordan drops his shirt.
Tyler hands him the water bottle. “I’m ready.”
Jordan takes a drink. “Me, too.”
Tyler holds Jim’s leash this time. Jim is a good dog. He prances. He looks at Tyler and seems to be smiling. He smiles like Josh.
*
For dinner one evening, Josh brings Jim and Jordan. As Tyler sits at the table and prods at his potatoes with his fork, he marvels at the collection of Js in his life.
Jordan sits next to him, maybe a little too close for appropriate comfort. His knee is against Tyler’s knee. He’s bouncing his leg. Tyler keeps one hand in his lap, cupping himself between his thighs.
Jenna watches and doesn’t watch. She feeds Jim scraps from the table. He loves her cooking, too.
After they finish eating, Jordan helps Jenna with the dishes, and Tyler takes Josh into the basement. Jim is nearby. He’s adventurous. He’s eyeing Tyler’s Amiibos. Tyler points a finger at him, which causes him to boof.
“Wrote anything new?” Josh claims the rolling chair as his own, the mastermind behind the screen. He touches the arms of the chair, touches the desk itself, the keyboard, the computer monitor. He touches unknown territory. Josh’s hair is dark and curly.
“No, I haven’t written anything. Wouldn’t even make it on the record if I did.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Tyler feels sick again. He stares at his feet, at Josh’s feet.
Josh is reaching out, is touching Tyler now, familiar territory, and Tyler sits on Josh’s lap and allows himself to mold to Josh’s negative space. “You’re so far away,” Josh presses into Tyler’s earlobe. “Come back down to Earth for me.” He places his hand on Tyler’s back, Tyler’s thigh.
“I want to sleep with another man.”
There’s no hesitation in Josh’s smile. “Tour’s close.” The hand on Tyler’s thigh creeps up and slides, groping Tyler’s ass under the mesh of his basketball shorts. “Unless… you can’t wait for tour?” Josh laughs, then, and peppers kisses on Tyler’s cheeks. Tyler burns. “We can rent out an old van and drive somewhere only we know.”
Tyler kisses Josh, his hands in those curls. Josh shivers when Tyler lightly pulls at them in his departure. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment,” Tyler says, “of us fucking in a van in the middle of the desert, when I said ‘another’ man, I had hoped you knew ‘another’ meant a man other than you.” Tyler curls his fingers, the tips massaging Josh’s scalp at the nape of his neck. “Come on, Josh.” He is barely above a murmur as he kisses Josh’s open mouth again. “Use your brain.”
And Josh laughs into Tyler’s mouth. “Okay.”
“You’re hard,” Tyler muses, dropping a hand to cup the front of Josh’s pants. Tyler tries to shift his weight, but Josh stops Tyler, taking Tyler’s wrist, bringing it up to his lips, and kissing it twice.
“I can wait for tour.”
A beat.
“Who is this other man?”
“I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you after it happens—if it happens.”
“Look at you.” Josh squeezes Tyler’s ass. He bites Tyler’s neck. “Look at you. It’s going to happen.”
A second beat. Josh is still against Tyler’s neck, suckling, marking his spot for the next man to find.
“Does Jenna know?”
“Jenna knows.”
Josh hugs him. Tyler becomes the plaster cast for this angel.
Upstairs, Jordan eats candy from their pantry and hugs Tyler before he, Josh, and Jim leave for the night. Jordan lingers. Jenna distracts Josh with a hug of her own and a kiss to his cheek. She smiles at Tyler.
She’s smart.
*
Jenna tells him, “I can let you have the bedroom. I don’t have to be here.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to make the first move,” Tyler says. “What if he doesn’t want me?”
She kisses his forehead. “Baby, look at you.”
*
They go for a run without Jim. Jordan shows up at the house with no shirt. Tyler ditches his in the car.
Sharing a water bottle is second nature. Watching the sweat pool at Jordan’s temples and run down his chest is second nature. Tyler thinks of waterfalls, the beach. He thinks of how it must feel like to sleep in the same bed as Jordan, to feel the hair on Jordan’s chest against his back, against his chest, against his face. Josh is smooth now. Josh isn’t like Jordan.
An elbow in Tyler’s ribs, Jordan arches his eyebrow. He’s holding the water bottle in his hand, but Tyler can’t tell if it’s sweat or water on his upper lip. “Are you ready?” Jordan asks.
“I’m ready.”
And they run and run and share water and backwash and run.
*
With a pint of ice cream tucked between her arm and side, Jenna offers Tyler a spoon and climbs onto the bed. The mattress hardly dips beneath her weight. She sits, pulling her legs underneath her, fingers already sticky with strawberry and vanilla swirl. “Tell me something,” she says.
“Something,” Tyler says. He digs in his spoon. He is a goldsmith.
“Why him?” She sticks the spoon in her mouth, nothing on it, a pensive move. “He’s cute, yeah. I can see that.” She repeats this, quiet. “I can see that.”
Tyler shrugs.
She tuts. “Tyler.”
“He’s cute, yeah,” he says.
She shoves his shoulder.
He smiles. “Okay, I… I don’t know. I can’t explain it. He’s…” Tyler looks for a word. He looks so hard his head hurts. He tells himself it’s brain freeze.
“He’s cute.” Jenna sets her hand on Tyler’s knee. She squeezes. “Yeah?”
Tyler can only nod.
She squeezes. She rubs. “Yeah.”
*
Josh FaceTimes him one night. They stay on the line for hours, just staring at each other, smiling, and smiling.
“I love you,” Josh says.
“I love you, too,” Tyler says.
When they hang up, the sun is rising.
Jenna snores.
*
Days later, the weekend, in place of their usual good-morning texts, Jordan asks, Can I come over today? He says, I’m obsessed with all the candy you have.
And Tyler can’t tell him no.
Jordan arrives when Jenna leaves. They exchange pleasantries. From the doorway, Tyler swears he sees Jenna wink at Jordan. He’s still a little damp from his shower, but he burns. He burns. He steps back to let Jordan into his house and feels as if the graze of Jordan’s t-shirt against his shoulder might strike a match.
As promised, Jordan rummages in their candy.
Tyler thinks he’s standing too close, but if this were Jenna, if this were Josh, it would be normal—this would be normal. But Josh is Josh, and Jenna is Jenna, and Tyler can’t stop himself from setting a hand on Jordan’s back and reaching up to grab a lollipop from its designated candy bin.
Jordan stares, of course he does, and Tyler stares, too, ripping off the wrapper and twitching his wrist forward to tilt the sucker onto Jordan’s bottom lip.
Red against pink, Jordan has remnants of chocolate in his teeth as he welcomes the lollipop into his mouth. Still holding onto the stick, Tyler eases the sucker to Jordan’s cheek, where he lets it rest, bulging out, like a pinch of chew, like something else, like something else.
Jordan takes the stick from Tyler. He pulls the sucker out of his mouth, lips around the bulb as he pops off. He smiles. His teeth are white. “Okay,” he says. “I have my candy. I think I’m ready to go home now.”
He makes no move. He looks at Tyler, expectant, and then Tyler realizes it’s his turn, and he needs to flirt, but he doesn’t remember how to flirt with someone if they aren’t Josh or Jenna.
So, he repossesses the lollipop and inches it back into Jordan’s mouth, back to Jordan’s cheek. Tyler has no words on his tongue, but he has his hands and his eyes, and when he looks at Jordan’s own, they are so dark.
“Got anything else for me to suck?” Jordan asks. “I’m bored with this.”
There it is. There it is.
“Maybe,” Tyler says, “if you ask nicely.”
Lips curving into a smile, Jordan pulls the sucker out of his mouth again and slips the wrapper from Tyler’s fist. It’s a haphazard rewrapping, but it’s sufficient.
The lollipop goes on the counter. Jordan’s hands go on Tyler’s shoulders. Tyler’s heart goes to his throat.
“I’ll do more than ask nicely,” Jordan tells Tyler, his hands now on each side of Tyler’s neck as he tilts Tyler’s head back and scrapes his teeth along the length of Tyler’s throat.
Tyler stumbles, hands flinging behind him to catch himself on the counter. He knocks over a paper towel dispenser, a spoon left over from this morning when Jenna made him tea. They all clatter to the floor, and Jordan’s mouth is still against his throat. He’s kissing, hard, almost sucking, but no, but yes, he’s sucking and licking Tyler’s throat, and his arms loop around Tyler’s torso and hold him close. Tyler’s trembling, Jordan’s lips on his Adam’s apple, Jordan’s chest against his chest, Jordan’s hips against his hips. Jordan jerks forward, and Tyler gasps and sends a can of Red Bull to the floor with his elbow. Thankfully, it’s empty. Thankfully, Jordan’s mouth travels to Tyler’s jawline. He nips. He sucks.
And then, Tyler whispers, “You’re not being very nice.”
Jordan raises his head.
Tyler stares, Jordan stares, and Tyler swallows, and Jordan jerks his hips against Tyler’s hips again.
Tyler thinks he’s about to make a mess of his pants right there, but then Jordan stops, takes a step back, and Tyler reaches forward, needs more, craves it like it’s a new form of oxygen.
Smiling, amused, eyes half-lidded, Jordan takes Tyler’s hands in his. He holds them. He whispers right back, “Let me do something first, you eager bastard.”
So, Tyler waits. He knows he’s shaking. He knows Jordan can feel it just in his hands, warm around clammy. Jordan squeezes. Jordan watches him.
Tyler closes his eyes.
Tentatively, as if the world might split in two, Jordan kisses Tyler. It’s a slight press, then something more.
Tyler swears he’s floating. He touches Jordan’s arms to ground himself, feels his biceps. Tyler opens his mouth. Jordan opens his. Jordan holds Tyler’s neck again. He doesn’t squeeze. Tyler thinks he wants Jordan to squeeze.
“Is this okay?” Jordan asks, lips against lips, kissing between each syllable. “Do you want—?”
“More,” Tyler pleads. “I want more.”
Jordan says, “Show me.”
Tyler does.
In the bedroom, with the door closed and the curtains drawn, the room is as much of a cave as the basement. Both rooms offer love, growth, support—and Tyler invites Jordan into this part of him with bated breath.
Jordan is careful.
On the bed, Jordan only lies on top of Tyler when Tyler tells him it’s all right—and only after he turns on a lamp. Tyler’s voice is never above a whisper when it comes to this, when it comes to Jordan kissing his mouth and running his hands up Tyler’s t-shirt. Tyler’s telling him, “Yeah,” and Jordan is nodding his head and telling Tyler, “I got you.”
Jordan helps Tyler pull off his shirt, nodding his head, repeating and repeating, “I got you. I got you.” His words wield the confidence his fingers do not; they tremble as they travel down Tyler’s sides and hook themselves in the waistband of Tyler’s shorts. He keeps them here, a little steadier, while he kisses Tyler’s tattoos. He follows the dark ink like they’re guidelines to the promised land. Tyler watches the best he can. When Jordan gets to his nipples, he shuts his eyes. He squirms. He arches his back.
Beginning to tremble more noticeably now, Jordan works off Tyler’s shorts, his boxer briefs. Tyler opens his eyes. He stares at the ceiling. He rises onto his elbows and becomes vaguely self-aware of how he should have been more mindful of his personal grooming in his shower this morning. Jordan’s just hovering over him, head down and impossible for Tyler to catch even a glimpse of the expression on Jordan’s face. So, Tyler looks at his cock against his stomach. He spits on his fingers.
Jordan’s head raises at this. His eyes go where Tyler’s fingers go, and Tyler notes the way Jordan’s cheeks flush pink when he begins to touch himself. He runs his hand down the length of him, and then slowly back up, up, up to spit on his fingers again.
For a second, Tyler thinks Jordan may not be breathing. Despite this, Tyler doesn’t stop. He rubs the underside of his cockhead, each slick sound he strokes out earning himself a twitch and a groan from Jordan.
Carefully, looking behind him as he does so, Jordan settles on his front. It’s no surprise the first place Jordan goes after Tyler removes his hand is the glans. He kisses. He kisses again. Tyler bites his lip, and Jordan swallows him whole.
He is in distress. His entire body shifts forward, bending at the waist, and he knows he’s probably kneed Jordan, but Jordan doesn’t act as such; Jordan moves forward, onto his knees, and he tilts his head and slides Tyler’s dick along the inside of his cheek, and Tyler pulls at Jordan’s hair and briefly considers if crying would ruin the mood.
Popping off as if Tyler’s dick were that damn lollipop, Jordan glances up at Tyler. He licks his lips, lowers his head, and kisses Tyler’s testicles.
Tyler moans, loud, embarrassing.
Jordan asks him, “Do you want me to… to, like, eat you out or something?”
He’s going to explode. He’s going to explode. Jordan is still fully dressed, and Tyler’s going to explode.
“Yes. I mean—wait. Please.” Tyler shifts his weight, Jordan shifting, too, Jordan shifting to sit in between Tyler’s legs with his hands in his lap and his eyes fixated on Tyler’s face. He’s expectant again, and Tyler knows what to do now. He knows what to say now. He says, “Touch yourself for me.” He says, “I want to watch you.”
Jordan undresses. He doesn’t look away from Tyler. He sits, criss-cross applesauce, and spits on his palm. He doesn’t look away from Tyler. He wraps his fingers around his dick and strokes and rubs his thumb into the pre-come beading along the tip, rolling down the shaft, and getting caught in the wiry, black hair. Jordan wasn’t mindful of his personal grooming either.
Tyler finds himself gravitating toward the base of Jordan’s cock, and he kisses, licks, and Jordan’s still moving his fist up and down, up and down, up and down.
Tyler breathes in. He kisses Jordan’s thigh. He licks, then bites, then seals it with kiss after kiss. He does this to Jordan’s thigh, Jordan’s hip, Jordan’s stomach.
“Right there,” Jordan says. “Oh, right there.”
Like Jordan, Tyler takes Jordan’s cock into his mouth and swallows him whole. Jordan’s still holding himself, squeezing the base. Tyler takes over. He can be Jordan’s cock ring. He can be a lot of things. He’s a creature needing sustenance, bobbing his head, and loving how it feels to have a new pair of hands in his hair, a new dick down his throat, a new voice encouraging him.
“That feels so good. Holy shit, Tyler—God.” Jordan laughs, breathy and high. “Oh, God, Ty, that feels so good.”
This sends a shiver down Tyler’s spine.
He closes his eyes and tries not to fall in love.
He’s going to cry.
Onto his hands and knees, he pushes himself up, and Jordan, still sitting, places his hands on Tyler’s neck and kisses Tyler, open-mouthed, tongue, spit, moaning.
They separate, and Tyler opens his eyes.
Jordan is already staring at him. “Are you okay? We can stop. Like, it feels good. You made me feel so good, and I hope I’m making you feel good, too. We can stop.” He wipes his thumbs under Tyler’s eyes. “We can stop.”
“I don’t want to stop.” Tyler glances behind him before shuffling back and crawling toward the head of the bed.
The mattress gives at each step, Jordan following him. When he lies on his stomach, Jordan climbs on top of him, taking a seat right on the backs of his calves. Jordan runs his hands through the hair on Tyler’s thighs, stretching until he’s cradling Tyler’s ass in both hands. “If you want me to stop, tell me.”
“I will.” Tyler turns his head.
Jordan spreads Tyler open. The tips of his thumbs ghost across Tyler’s hole. “I’ve never done this before.”
Tyler wants to scream. “What? Eat ass?”
Laughing, Jordan pats Tyler’s bottom. It’s too delicate. “Slept with a famous person.”
Tyler rolls his eyes.
Jordan laughs again. “I’ll take care of you.”
Tyler presses his face into a pillow.
Raising onto his knees, Jordan moves back, just enough to have room to be comfortable as he spreads Tyler open again and runs his tongue over Tyler’s hole. It’s painfully slow. Tyler can barely keep it together. He’s lifting his hips off the bed, rocking back at just that first flick of Jordan’s tongue. His hand is a claw, in which he reaches behind him and sticks his fingers in Jordan’s hair. With this, Jordan grows more confident. He pulls Tyler closer as Tyler shoves himself on Jordan’s tongue, riding the waves up, up, up.
Jordan doesn’t tease. He gives Tyler what he wants. Tyler says, “Suck on my balls,” and Jordan does. Tyler says, “Rub my hole with your thumb,” and Jordan does. Tyler says, “Come here and kiss me,” and Jordan does.
Still on his stomach, Tyler flips his pillow over to the dry side and welcomes Jordan’s tongue in his mouth. He kisses. He kisses. Oh, God, does he kiss.
Jordan scoots closer, lying down and pressing his chest to Tyler’s back. Tyler tangles his fingers in Jordan’s curls as they continue kissing, hot and heavy. When Jordan drops his hand and rolls the pads of his fingers over Tyler’s hole, Tyler wonders how life will be like after this moment. He wonders what might happen in the morning, if Jordan’s spending the night. He wonders what will happen tomorrow, if Jordan were to come over and want to do this again. He wonders if Jordan would ask to be on the bottom this time, if Tyler will help him find out if he likes it because he trusts Tyler. He wouldn’t want to do this with a stranger. Tyler is here.
Tyler is here.
“Stay there,” Tyler says.
Jordan nods. He bites his lip, chewing anxiously, watching Tyler army-crawl his way to the edge of the bed.
He feels Jordan’s fingertips touching him wherever they can reach—the swell of his buttocks—and his own fingers reach toward the nightstand drawer. Jordan’s breath hitches in his throat.
“Are you okay?” Tyler asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. He grabs the lubricant and the box of condoms.
“This all just… really kicked in for me.” Jordan’s chest is pink. Tyler kisses.
“Are you regretting anything?”
“Wished I did this sooner.”
Blushing now, too, Tyler settles into Jordan’s arms, back to chest, ass to hips. Shaking the box of condoms, Tyler shows it to Jordan so he can read the front. Jordan places his hand over Tyler’s. “You’re a little bigger than me,” Tyler says, “but I think you can use them.”
Jordan considers this. “What if I told you I didn’t want to wear one?”
“Then, I’ll tell you I regularly have sex with two people, one of whom is a man.”
His lips quirk. “Yeah? Are you all clean?”
“Yeah.”
Studying Tyler, Jordan passes his thumb over the last traces of the hickey Josh left on Tyler’s neck. “I’ll wear one if you want me to wear one. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
As his response, Tyler tosses the box of condoms on the nightstand. He misses. They land on the carpet.
Jordan laughs. He grabs for the lubricant, reading this label before spreading an ample amount on his fingers. As if no interruption had occurred, Jordan returns his hand between Tyler’s legs and returns to rolling his fingers over Tyler’s hole. Each pass, Jordan applies a little more pressure until he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.
Tyler says, “Shit.” He says, “Can I finger you, too?”
“At the same time?”
“Yeah.”
Jordan’s back to chewing on his lip. His nod, while hesitant, is paired with him scooting closer to Tyler, angling his hips, and spreading his legs. “Will you go slow?”
Reassurance is required. Tyler is happy to oblige. “Of course. Here—” Tyler uses more than enough lube. It’s dripping on the bed covers. He twists, lying on his back now, and slathers the lube between Jordan’s legs. Starting from his testicles and going up to his tailbone, Tyler makes sure Jordan is slick before he circles the rim of Jordan’s hole.
“Do this to me,” Tyler says, and Jordan does. They stare at each other. Tyler sees the world being reborn in Jordan’s eyes. “Do to me what you want me to do to you.”
So, when Jordan presses the tip of his middle finger into Tyler again, Tyler mirrors this. Where Jordan’s breath stops, Tyler’s grows quicker. “You don’t have to take as much as me,” Tyler says, nodding, Jordan nodding with him. “You can just take one. You can just take one.”
Jordan kisses him, sliding his finger all the way inside. Tyler does the same, agonizingly slow. Jordan kisses him harder. Tyler forgets what it felt like to know peace.
Their movements are disjointed. Tyler has the one finger in Jordan, still, with the occasional rub to Jordan’s prostate, while Jordan has two, moving swiftly, in and out, and doing much the same. Tyler’s toes are spreading out, curling, hips twitching as he moans into Jordan’s mouth.
“Please, please, please,” he begs. “Please fuck me. Fuck me.”
They’re both slow as snails when fingers withdraw. Tyler works on getting a case off a pillow near the headboard to use as a makeshift hand towel. Tyler wipes his fingers off first, then Jordan. Next, Tyler passes Jordan the lubricant and rolls onto his side. He grabs another pillow and rests his head on it, ready to drool on and bite the fabric as he becomes desperate.
When it comes to Josh, Tyler’s teeth would often make their home in Josh’s arm—but Josh was into that. And Jordan—Jordan wraps his arm around Tyler’s shoulders from behind.
“Here,” he says, and Tyler grabs Jordan’s arm. His mouth is level with Jordan’s arm. He debates on nipping, just as a warning, but Jordan’s arm moves again, and then his hand is wrapping around Tyler’s neck.
Tyler whines.
Jordan laughs. He kisses Tyler’s shoulder and edges inside him.
It’s not new, this stretch. Tyler is familiar with this and how every initial entry makes him see stars. He clenches around Jordan’s girth, rocks his hips to quicken the accommodation period, and realizes Jordan is a little thicker than Josh, yet smaller. Tyler continues to rock. Jordan squeezes his hand around Tyler’s throat, absent. He quickly apologizes, pulling out all the way. Short lived, he thrusts into Tyler, sending Tyler forward, onto his stomach. Jordan scrambles for purchase, pulling Tyler back in place, his fingers finding their way into Tyler’s mouth.
“Shit, sorry,” Jordan whispers, and holds onto Tyler with all his might, fucking Tyler deep and slow.
It feels good, too good it hurts.
Tyler lifts his leg as high as he can and listens to the sound of Jordan panting as if they were on one of their runs. He tries not to cry. He is unsuccessful.
“Please,” Tyler whispers, no idea as to why the plea surfaces. He says it again. “Please, Jordan.”
And Jordan fucks him harder. When Tyler ends up on his stomach this time, Jordan doesn’t pull him back; he moves on top of Tyler, both of his arms around Tyler’s torso, and he kisses Tyler’s neck, sucks on Tyler’s neck. Too sensitive, too much, he can feel every suction Jordan presses into his skin all the way down to his dick. His dick is trapped between the bed covers and his abdomen. When Jordan fucks him, he moves with each thrust. The friction feels nice. The bed covers are soft. He could come like this.
But Jordan stops. He pulls out of Tyler and rolls away, falling onto his back. He says, “Get on top of me,” and Tyler climbs onto Jordan’s hips as if his life depended on it.
After applying another coat of lubricant, Tyler positions himself. He sinks down on Jordan’s cock and nearly shouts from how Jordan nestles right next to his prostate in this position. Tyler almost doesn’t want to move. He rocks, rolls his hips, and whimpers with a quivering chin.
“Jordan,” he says, “you feel so good inside me.”
And then, he tips forward, his hands to Jordan’s chest, and he bounces, he bounces, and Jordan pulls him down more and kisses him until the breath is knocked out of him and he’s back to screaming “please” at the top of his lungs. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for and Jordan doesn’t either. He bucks into Tyler, his heels digging into the mattress. He bucks, and he fucks, and Tyler says, “Please, Jordan, Jordan,” as he hides his face in Jordan’s neck.
“I got you,” Jordan says, his hands on the small of Tyler’s back. “I got you. I got you. I got you.”
Jordan comes inside him. Tyler understands why he was pleading. He comes, too, shooting as far up as his chin. When he gathers the strength to raise his head, Jordan laughs and licks the semen off.
“This might hurt,” he tells Tyler. “I’m going to go as slow as I can.” Regardless of the warning, Tyler hisses when Jordan pulls out.
He’s so tired.
Jordan uses the same pillowcase to clean them up. “That was… that was…”
“Thank you.”
There are fingers on his face, on his neck, petting his lips. He’s being burnt alive.
“Thank you.”
In his haze, Tyler wraps himself around Jordan, legs and arms and voice. “Don’t go. Not yet,” he whispers, and Jordan kisses his hair and whispers, “I won’t.”
They sleep above the covers. Tyler uses Jordan’s chest as a pillow. He’s soft.
*
In the morning, Tyler is alone.
There’s laughter in the kitchen. He rises, pulling on clothes, and pads down the hallway, around the corner—his head hurts. His heart hurts.
Jenna is there, cooking breakfast. Jordan is there, too, sitting at the table. The paper towel dispenser, spoon, and Red Bull can are back on the counter where they belong.
Jordan sees Tyler first. He waves.
Tyler waves.
“Good morning,” Jenna says. “Did you have a nice night?”
“Yeah. It was nice.”
Head lowering, blushing, Jordan repeats this sentiment. “Yeah, it was nice.”
*
Jordan leaves with a hug Tyler never wants to forget. Even now, he smells like wood chips and fire.
When it’s just Tyler and Jenna again, things go a little faster.
Tyler finds himself standing in the kitchen, unwrapping the sucker still on the counter, and tucking the lollipop into his cheek. He sucks, hums, and thinks he will be okay.
*
With nimble fingers and a persistent smile on her lips, Jenna washes the bedclothes and doctors his neck. She says nothing.
*
Josh comes over that night. He sees the hickeys all over Tyler’s neck and offers nothing but a hug and a promise: “Whenever you’re ready to tell me about him, I’ll be here to listen.”
“It was Jordan.”
Yes, Tyler feels sick, and he would rather stare at his feet than focus on Josh’s face, but he looks at Josh and pinpoints any shift in his expression.
When there is no reaction, Tyler takes Josh’s head in his hands and kisses Josh’s forehead. His lips put down kiss after kiss, only ceasing at Josh’s fingers wrapping around his wrists.
Nobody moves. Nobody dares to move.
“Jordan,” Josh says. “You were… you were talking about Jordan.”
“Yeah.”
“My brother Jordan.”
Tyler says, “Yeah. Yeah.”
“Did he treat you right?” Josh shoves Tyler into a wall in the hallway, next to some abstract wall decoration Jenna picked out when they first bought the house.
Tyler covers his face, red and wet, but Josh moves right along, his voice lower, speaking through his teeth. “Did you treat him right? Do I have to kick your ass? Do I have to kick his ass? Whose ass am I supposed to kick?”
Between the cracks of his fingers, Tyler looks at Josh.
Josh is smiling. He’s smiling. “I thought something was going on whenever he kept asking me questions about you.”
Groaning, Tyler rolls his eyes and drops his arms to his sides. “What questions did he ask?”
“Well, he first asked me if you preferred being on the bottom.”
Tyler closes his eyes.
Josh laughs. Then, serious, he cups both of Tyler’s elbows, rubbing the crooks of them with his thumbs. “Did I hurt you?” His voice is still low. However, this time, it’s laced with concern and a hint of self-loathing.
“You didn’t hurt me,” Tyler says. “Just reminded me to grab a blanket for us.” He opens the hall closet. Josh is back to laughing. Tyler smiles so big it hurts.
They sit on the back porch, holding hands and kissing like they’re in the van again and parked somewhere only they know.
*
The good-morning and goodnight texts never go away.
Jordan and he still play Fortnite every weekend.
*
On the day before tour, Tyler goes running with Jordan. They share a water bottle. They share smiles.
They run and run and run.
*
Every night, with Jim at the foot of their bed, Tyler falls asleep between Josh and Jenna. Jenna snores, Josh always wants to be the little spoon, and Tyler finally dreams of Jordan.
There’s nothing bad in these dreams. They’re playing video games in the same room together—Super Smash Bros., Mario Kart, Donkey Kong. In his dreams, he looks over at Jordan and thinks this man has made his life turn out for the better.
And every morning, as Jenna makes coffee in their tour-bus kitchen, Tyler drapes himself over Josh to check his text messages. And every morning, he texts Jordan, good morning. And every morning, Josh is awake with him when this happens, and he kisses Tyler’s shoulder. This morning, though, he kisses Tyler’s shoulder and tells Tyler, “I thought it would bother me, you know? My brother fucking my significant other, but… it doesn’t bother me at all. I’m happy you’re happy. I like seeing you with those… rosy cheeks and bright eyes whenever you text him in the morning.”
Tyler shakes his head. “Shut up.”
Jim yawns.
Josh rubs Tyler’s back. “Are you going to do it again? I think he’d be into it.”
“I told Jenna I just needed one night with him. I…” Tyler frowns, shaking his head again. Josh continues to rub his back. “I can’t just invite him into our relationship, Josh. He’s your brother, and I don’t think Jenna’s interested in him like that.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe we’d be okay if only you wanted to be with someone new? Tyler, I… I, like, know it’s not just sex.”
Tyler sets his head on Josh’s chest. Josh rubs the back of his neck now. Carefully, he continues, “It’s not just sex to him either.”
Tyler closes his eyes.
“Jenna and I think it’s okay if you want to date him, too.”
“Much to think about,” Tyler mumbles.
Josh kisses the top of his head. “Take as much time as you need.”
When Josh leaves the bed, Jim takes his place. Tyler is quick to wrap the dog into his arms and press his face into the golden fur.
That night, with Jenna on one side and Josh on the other, Tyler texts Jordan, goodnight. i like you a lot.
A second passes before Jordan replies, Goodnight. I like you a lot too.
*
The world turns.
*
It isn’t until Tyler’s birthday that he and Jordan are alone together again. They connect like two magnets from opposite ends of the massive trampoline floor. Tyler can start sailing through the air, and he doesn’t have to imagine Jordan’s arms wrapping around him and his hands sneaking up his shirt because it’s real—it’s tangible; it’s just the two of them on their own trampoline, in their shorts and t-shirts and headbands.
Jordan has black ink smudged across his cheekbones, dark like his hair, dark like his eyes.
Separated from the others, Tyler acts as though he’s here to stuff a bite of cake in his mouth before he returns to the festivities. He dips his fingers in the icing and transfers it to Jordan’s mouth, over his lips.
Jordan blinks. Jordan says, “Okay?”
And Tyler kisses him and tastes heaven itself on his tongue.
And Jordan is laughing. Jordan is kissing Tyler and laughing, and he’s saying, “Shit, Ty. Shit.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“That wolf on your shirt is cool.”
Tyler hugs Jordan. “Thank you.”
It’s wood chips, fire, and nostalgia here with him, and Tyler wouldn’t have it any different.