by Raven, Jo
“No, but I overheard him talking and he seemed upset. Why, is there a problem with his cousin?”
“I don’t know. Dammit.” He closes his eyes briefly. “But I’ll find out.”
PART III
Honey Fuck or Bunny Fuck? That is the Question
Chapter Twenty
JOEL
“I live with my cousin,” he says. “Can’t afford a place of my own yet.”
I consider his frown. “Well, I’m looking for a roommate. I can cover the rent for now. You can start paying your part when you get a job.” When he hesitates, I press on. “It’d be fun. And we can play videogames all night.”
Not sure why it’s so important to me that he say yes. Other than the fact he’s my best buddy, that is. Maybe it’s because I’m not entirely sure his cousin’s house is a good place to be. From Jet’s few mumbled comments, I got the impression the cousin’s parents aren’t much better than Jet’s.
“Fine,” Jet says, and groans when I slap his back. “You sure about this, dude?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
And I mean it.
His cousin called him, and he didn’t tell me. He was upset, Candy says. What the fuck happened, and when will he fucking talk to me?
I’m not a random stranger, I’m his best friend, I’m… I’m the guy he has jacked off with, for chrissakes. The guy he had threesomes with at least twice in the past few days.
What more is needed for a guy to earn himself some trust? What do I have to do, suck him off?
A burn starts in my neck, spreading to my face at the thought. The mental image of Jet thrusting his dick into my mouth shouldn’t turn me on.
My mind’s fucked-up right now. I’m generally turned on—by Candy, the threesome, watching the two of them fuck… It’s all jumbled up inside my head.
And after waking up a second time to find Candy scrambling to get dressed, with Jet already gone from the apartment, I want to hit something. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I should have gone to find him last night, asked him what his cousin said.
Dared him to deny it. Pushed him a little. I missed my chance. Of course, there’s always tonight. Need a plan. Need…
Need what? What am I gonna do, push him against the wall and demand an explanation? Demand full disclosure? Like I’m his boyfriend or something?
Have I gone nuts? Too much sex too soon. That must be it. It’s melting my brain and frying my gray cells. If Jet doesn’t want to talk, then that’s his business.
Pissed at the world and at myself, I roll out of bed—well, off the sofa, almost faceplanting—and march into the bathroom to shower and get ready for another day at the fucking office.
God, I hate working there. Even after the misunderstanding with the boss was resolved, I feel uneasy in my skin. Like he’s watching me.
Totally paranoid, I know, and that shit’s getting old now. It’s been more than a year since the scandal, and although quite a few people on campus were giving me the side-eye then, nobody seems to know my face at work, which is fine by me.
Fuck, if my dad knew about it… I’d find myself disowned.
So what, right? Wouldn’t be the first or the last person to have a fallout with his parents. I know.
And yet. I can’t imagine that—being rootless. Homeless in a sense, even if you have a roof over your head. I remember how pissed off they’d been at my sister when she started dating a guy who’d lived on the street before, a guy who didn’t meet their high standards.
Imagine finding out their son was photographed with his dick out, jerking off as two girls had sex on a couch.
Or even worse, that now he’s getting too comfortable with his roommate. That he has threesomes on his couch.
Yeah, they wouldn’t hold back, like they did with Evie. It sounds damn awful to say this, but they never expected much from her. They sure expect everything from me—to be the perfect son, with the perfect job, perfect magazine spread life, the golden American boy.
Their custom-made son.
At least there’s this new sports project the boss has assigned me that’s taking my mind off all this mess. I’m still getting familiar with it, studying the files and the sponsors, trying to arrange some meetings. Can’t deny I’m excited to be given this opportunity.
If only I could relax.
Man, I wish I could spend my days writing stories, watching Jet draw them into amazing comics. We could sell them. Why the hell not? Why do I have to have a nine-to-five office job like everyone else?
Christa from the marketing room is laughing as I pass, peering at me over her coffee mug, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of me. If she happened on the picture online.
It could still be floating on the interwebs. Or someone who saved it back then could post it again. People I thought were my friends back then had a kick out of plastering the photo all over the place. Hunting down every single one and doing my best to take it down was a nightmare.
I trust Ellen not to do anything stupid like tell her friends about it, but what about her girlfriend? Her new girlfriend that I barely know.
Christa is definitely staring at me as I pass by again. She winks.
Fuck, I’m getting claustrophobic in here. Can’t wait for this day to end.
***
Despite wanting to leave as early as possible, I stay late at the office, sorting through the papers and folders. The project’s goal is to collaborate with athletes of the region to promote a new brand of biodegradable sports products. The idea is to also involve environmental NGOs, charities, schools and sports clubs.
It’s a big deal. A lot of money is needed. A lot of work required. And I wanna do this. For many reasons.
By the time I decide my brain won’t process anything else and clock out, loosening my tie and rubbing at my itchy eyes, it’s dark and windy outside. I’m driving to the bookshop to pick up Jet and Candy, on full autopilot, when the reality of what I’m doing hits me.
Going to pick up my girl and my boy.
Okay, rewind. Let’s not get carried away, okay? This makes it sound like a routine. Like a relationship. And it’s not. We’re just friends. Who fuck.
What? No. Wait. I fuck Candy. Jet is just my buddy. And Candy is just a pretty girl I happen to like and fuck and who might be my girlfriend one day.
Putting things in context helps gain fucking clarity.
Scowling at nothing, I park and jump out of the car to reach the bookshop. There’s no guarantee Candy wants to come back with us again tonight. That what happened the last few nights will repeat itself. And I shouldn’t care.
I look through the glass façade. The Closed sign is on, but I can see Candy and Jet sitting in the corner, in those comfy armchairs they have for the customers, heads bent over a book.
What are they doing?
I knock on the door and their heads come up—one dark, one blond, two pairs of eyes tracking me.
I really shouldn’t feel warmth spread in my chest when they both grin at me. My heart shouldn’t speed up and my pants grow tight.
Fuck.
Jet is the first one to get up, putting the book quickly away. In fact, he slips it behind his back, like a kid caught with the cookie jar in his hands, and whirls about to shove it between other books on a shelf, his shoulders rising and falling fast, like he’s breathing hard.
I frown at him, but meanwhile Candy all but jumps on me, wrapping her arms and legs around me, and my frown melts into a grin as her body collides with mine.
Jesus, this girl. I’m spinning her around and laughing like I’m on drugs before I know what I’m doing, and it feels right. I feel… happy.
And then Jet joins us, grabbing me from behind, spinning me, too, and I feel… content. No, not content, wrong word.
Complete.
In degrees, I come to a stop and put Candy down, then turn to ruffle Jet’s hair, still grinning, my heart still pounding. Jet’s smile is wide and bright. Genuine. Can’t remember the las
t time I got a real smile out of him, one that reaches his eyes.
Complete. What the hell does this mean? Why does my chest feel full, fit to burst?
Refusing to analyze it for now, in a sudden hurry to get them both home, I tug on their arms, herding them out.
It’s only when we reach my car I realize I haven’t even asked Candy if she wants to come along.
“Girl.” I turn to find her and Jet holding hands, and fuck if that doesn’t make me smile—again—and man, what’s wrong with me? “Are you coming home with us tonight?”
“You mean she has a life outside of this thing between us?” Jet mutters, his smile turning into a darker grin, one that tells me he’s unsure of himself. He’s always brasher when he’s unsettled. “We know you have a roommate. How many people do we have to compete with?”
“You kidding me? What other life?” She waves a hand back and forth, her brown eyes sparkling. “I’ve wanted you guys for so long.”
Jet glances at me, a slight frown pinching his features. Then he chuckles. “For so long. Like, for almost two weeks.”
Two weeks. Just that? It feels like so much longer.
Which makes it even stranger that I’m so comfortable with her. Like she’s part of the family now.
Alarm bells go off in the back of my mind, but hell if I know what they mean, and besides, she’s talking again.
“About that other life… You’re right, I need to go to my apartment first, grab a few things, see how Brylee is doing. Can I still come afterward?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Jet huffs, rolls his eyes. “Can she, J?”
“Maybe. If she brings ice cream.”
She laughs. It’s a delicious sound. “Will do.”
“And don’t you dare put on contact lenses,” I tell her. “I want you in those sexy-ass glasses!”
She flushes. “Yes, sir. Meet you guys in maybe two hours? I’ll ring the bell. Don’t get too distracted with each other to hear it.”
“Distracted?” I mutter.
But she’s already dragging Jet to my car and pushing him inside. She’s talking to him about… Harry Potter?
Huh.
He’s smiling again, though, that secret, real smile, and I shake my head as I settle behind the wheel. Chattering away like kids. About a children’s book. With wizards and shit.
Something Jet has never done, from what little he’s let slip about his past. Something he’d never allow himself to do a few weeks ago.
Lower his defenses. Allow himself to play. Let himself be young for a change. He sometimes feels so much older than his twenty-one years.
Of course, the thought of him playing brings back the memory of him fucking himself with the vibrator, and I hiss as my dick hardens.
Boundaries, right? Context? Clarity?
Yeah, whatever, man. I don’t know which way is up and which down anymore, and that’s the goddamn truth.
***
Jet is quiet as we ride the elevator upstairs and enter our apartment. I want to ask what he’s doing with Candy late at the shop every day, reading Harry Potter of all things, but his silence puts me on edge, and I just flop on my bed, closing my eyes for a bit.
I’m tired. Can’t settle on a single thought. And I’m still hard, dammit. Resting my eyes for a minute sounds like a good idea. Then I’ll see if we can order some takeout and…
Sleep drags me under, even as I struggle to fight it. Darkness presses, heavy, on me and I sink through the mattress, sucked out into the void.
Arms close around me, sending me into a spiral across empty space. It’s warm, though, and the arms make me feel safe.
The darkness clears, and I’m standing in a room with plush furnishings. Velvet sofas and tasseled lamps, lit candles set on the low tables, like a turn of the century brothel, all done in red and gold.
Jet is there. He’s sprawled on one of the sofas, naked, a muscular leg carelessly thrown over an armrest.
Stroking himself. His eyes are closed, he hasn’t seen me, but he’s whispering something. I can see his lips moving.
A hot surge of arousal has my dick hardening. I grip it as I watch him. He’s beautiful, lean and strong, his dark hair in messy spikes, his thick cock in his hand.
I reach down for my hard-on and am not surprised to find I’m naked, too. Gripping my dick feels good. Watching him jack off feels good.
I take a step forward, to see him better, to sit down with him, when space shifts. The darkness rolls as if someone is shaking a dark snow globe and all the black glitter is swirling around us.
Jet’s no longer naked. He’s lying on the sofa, his eyes wide, blood spattered over his face and neck.
“Jet!” My heart is pounding so hard against my ribs. Icy fear closes around my spine. “What happened, man? Oh fuck, Jet…” He looks too young and terrified now. He wipes his hands on his T-shirt, and for some reason it’s not black this time, it’s white, and the crimson streaks he leaves behind twist my stomach. “What the hell happened?”
“Is he dead?” he whispers, and bloody tears slip from his closed eyes, tracking down his cheeks. “Is he dead now?”
“Who, Jet? Who is dead?”
But he won’t say anything else, even when I’m yelling at him to tell me, even as the blood rises around us, drowning us in the past.
***
“J, wake up. Come on, mate. I’m fine. Right here.” A hand shaking me. “You’re not supposed to have nightmares, all right? Don’t fucking do this. Dunno how to deal with this shit.”
“Mmf.” I blink, confused. I’m still seeing a room bathed in candlelight, red velvet sofas and Jet… Jet covered in blood. “Fuck!”
I sit up so fast the room spins. Jet is sitting on my bed, and I make a grab for him before he flees. His face is pale, his eyes wide like in the dream.
“What were you dreaming of?” he whispers. “You were talking in your sleep.”
“Was I?” The need to touch him, check him, make sure he’s okay is crushing my chest, my mind. I run my hand down his arm. “You’re okay.”
“You were asking…” He swallows hard. “Asking if he’s dead. Who, J?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. It was just a dream.” Just a dream, I repeat to myself, though why Jet’s face is so ashen I’m confused. I was the one having a nightmare, right? “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He visibly shakes himself, pulls himself together. I’m obviously missing something, but my mind’s kinda shattered by the dream, and I can’t think straight, not yet. “You’re soaked in sweat. You should take a shower before Candy arrives.”
Candy. Our apartment. Shower.
It all seems like a dream. Like the nightmare I woke up from was the real world.
Fucking creepy, to be honest.
What I’d need now is a moment to myself, to get my limbs back under control—but when Jet starts to get up, I make a grab for him again. Still not ready to let him out of my sight, not after seeing him like that. Even if it was a dream.
Hell.
He seems to sense something, and he doesn’t shrug me off. “Come on,” he says. “I need a shower, too.”
And just like that we’re stumbling into the bathroom together, shoving down our pants, pulling off our shirts. He produces a startled sound when I push him under the spray and run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms.
Yeah, I’m still not over the fright. Still checking to make sure he’s okay.
“You were covered in blood,” I whisper and lift my hands to his face. “You were hurt.”
He sucks in a sharp breath when I touch his cheeks, his jaw, when I push the soaked hair out of his eyes.
“Goddammit, Jet, tell me you were never hurt like that, that you’ve never…” I swallow back the words, because if anything his face has gone paler. “Tell me this didn’t really happen to you.”
“I don’t… I wasn’t.”
Not enough, not when he’s looking like he’s about to fall a
part. With a groan, I wrap my arms around him, crush him to me. “Good. Can’t stand the thought of anything hurting you, man.”
He raises fisted hands to my back. Says nothing.
“Candy said your cousin called. You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? I’ll look out for you. I’ll… Fuck, Jet, I’d do anything for you.”
The water is beating down on us, warm, and his body is slippery and full of angles. His chest is meshed with mine, and his dick is half-hard, poking me in the hip.
I blink. What am I doing?
His eyes are round like saucers when I finally pull away. And I’m sobering up, suddenly confused and lost again. Lost for feeling so many things for Jet, when I shouldn’t.
“J…”
“Gonna grab a towel.” I frown, turning away from him and fumbling half-blindly at the rack, water dripping from my eyelashes. “Order some food, tidy up the living room before—”
“Joel.”
My full name stops me. Can’t remember the last time Jethro called me that. I stay with my back turned to him. “What?”
“The blood wasn’t mine.”
Chapter Twenty One
JETHRO
The knife rises and falls, and blood runs in rivers. Who knew the human body contained that much blood?
I feel lightheaded. The room is swimming in my eyes.
And then he turns to me, gives me a long, hard look. I see you, his eyes tell me. I can see you, and I’ll find you wherever you hide. I’m not done with you.
But he is. He’s gone.
Right?
Joel has turned, and the shock in his eyes is painful to see. He had almost convinced himself it was all a bad dream, that what he’d sensed about me wasn’t real. Wasn’t that bad.
I don’t know what got into me, why I said those words. The truth. Maybe because he’d started to calm down, and… to close himself off again.
Maybe that’s why I did it.
And now I’m gritting my teeth because I can see in his face he’s about to ask for explanations, for information on things I’d thought I buried long ago, even if they keep surfacing in my own nightmares.