by Max Hudson
“Sorry,” Oscar tried to say, embarrassed by his own enthusiasm, but Jesse reached up and cupped his chin, thus effectively releasing all other thoughts from his mind.
“Please don’t be sorry,” Jesse said hoarsely. “Cuz I’m not.”
Oscar looked him over. His pupils were blown wide and there was damp sand all over his body, clinging to the crevasses of his abs. Oscar tentatively reached out to brush some of it away and the action made Jesse shudder. Oscar blushed and had to look away.
When he worked up the nerve to turn back, Jesse was biting his lip and staring at the hardness forming between Oscar’s legs. To Oscar’s amazement, he saw the same sentiment mirrored on Jesse’s body as well.
Oscar closed his eyes and swallowed past a lump in his throat. Everything was happening so fast. None of it seemed real. This was a fever dream or one of his nightmares. At any moment something twisted and horribly fucked up was bound to pop out of the sand beneath him and tear them both to shreds. He was spiraling deep into the recesses of his own mind with no grounding force to pull him out. Jesse, as always, picked up on his unsteady emotions.
“Hey,” he said putting a gentle hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “It’s all right. I understand. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want—”
“I want to,” Oscar interjected.
The realization hit him like a basketball straight to the face.
“I want to,” he repeated, this time more softly.
Jesse was quiet for a moment. Then he closed his eyes, heaved in a shaky breath and carefully slid his right hand inside Oscar’s shorts without another word. Oscar’s head fell back and his heart forgot how to beat.
“Oh,” he said stupidly. His voice sounded foreign and squeaky.
Jesse kept his hand still for a moment, allowing Oscar to get used to the sensation. Then he got his fingers wrapped around the shaft of his dick and gave two steady pumps. It felt so good that Oscar downright whimpered. Jesse’s fingers stalled, and his breath got even louder than it was before.
“Okay,” he said softly. “If you keep making sounds like that, I’m not gonna last very long at all.”
Oscar bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from moaning again. The idea that he had the ability to do that to someone, to Jesse, was mind blowing. He was so turned on he could barely stand it.
Oscar reached over and gave Jesse’s shorts a little tug.
“Can these come off?” he asked.
Jesse smiled shyly, redness creeping up his neck. He pulled his hand out of Oscar’s shorts and gave a definitive nod. His nipples were hard and he was sucking on his bottom lip, which, of course, was just making Oscar think about him sucking on other things…
He shook the thought out of his head and slid Jesse’s swim trunks off his body with slow, surgical precision. His erection sprang free and Oscar looked his fill. Jesse’s cock was long and veiny, with a transfixing patch of blond hair that led down from his belly button. Oscar desperately wanted to touch it, and so he did. He ran one shaking finger all the way from shaft to tip. Jesse gasped and immediately brought his fist to his mouth to chew on some of the knuckles.
Oscar was slow at first. He didn’t really know what he was doing; getting someone else off was a lot different than doing it to himself. He kept struggling to find a steady rhythm and a position that didn’t hurt his wrist. Jesse didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, if the pornographic moans falling out of his mouth were any indication, he seemed to be enjoying himself quite a lot.
Oscar was so focused on what he was doing that he completely missed Jesse trying to say something.
“Could you repeat that?” he asked.
Oscar didn’t know if the breathiness he heard in his own voice was due to exertion or arousal. Probably both.
“I asked if I could take your shorts off too.”
Oscar sat back on his heels, considering. It had been such a long time since anyone had seen him naked, but he was quickly learning to push past that excuse. It had been a long time since anyone had seen him do anything. Who was he to deny Jesse? Especially when he was looking at him like an unopened bag of potato chips.
“Since you asked nicely,” Oscar said finally, trying—and probably failing—to hide his self-consciousness with humor.
Jesse sat up and smiled. The two of them switched positions and Jesse took his time kissing Oscar, alternating between mouth and throat. Oscar couldn’t decide which one he liked better; they both made him feel like an emotional horny wreck. Then Jesse experimented with trailing his fingers down Oscar’s stomach. Each time they came close to the edge of his shorts, Oscar’s stomach coiled with anticipation. Just when Oscar was about to break and do the terrifying thing himself, Jesse tugged off the article of clothing in one swift motion.
There they both were. Naked and fully erect. Both blushing like the awkward idiots they were. How did people do this on a regular basis? Oscar wondered. And with strangers no less! Hopefully it would be less awkward next time. That is, assuming there would even be a next time.
After a bit of confusion and some clumsy maneuvering, the two of them finally settled down next to each other, laying side by side. It was impossible not to compare himself to Jesse, even though he knew it would be terrible on his self-esteem. Sure he was short, but Jesse’s body was model perfect from head to toe. He even had these cute little moles over the top of his left shoulder and a smattering of freckles across his stomach. Oscar felt incredibly lanky and inadequate by comparison. And yet, somehow, Jesse was still looking at him with reverence and eyes heavy-lidded with arousal.
In an instant, Oscar had his hand wrapped around Jesse’s cock and vice versa. They were both moving fast, caught up in the intensity of the moment. Jesse’s hand on him felt so good that it was hard for Oscar to breathe, much less continue his ministrations, but he did so anyway. Looking down and seeing Jesse’s hand on him was literally all it took to push him over the edge. Needless to say, neither of them lasted very long. Maybe ten minutes at the most. They came only seconds apart.
“That was... interesting,” Oscar said once he regained control of his voice.
Jesse laughed and quirked a brow.
“Good interesting or bad interesting?”
“Good interesting,” Oscar assured.
“Well I’m glad,” Jesse said. “It was good interesting for me too.”
“Have you uh…” Oscar started, unsure of how to phrase his question in a way that didn’t make him seem like an absolute loser. “I’m assuming you have experience?”
Jesse laughed again. Embarrassment flooded through Oscar’s veins, making him want to lock himself back in his room and throw away the key.
“I’m sorry,” Jesse soothed, grabbing hold of Oscar’s hand and linking their fingers together. “It’s not you. It’s just the way you phrased it made it seem like a job interview. And for the record, I have very minimal experience. None of it with anybody I like half as much as I like you.”
Oscar blinked. Those were the last words he was expecting to come out of Jesse’s mouth. They soothed and coated his heart like milk on a burning esophagus.
“Same,” Oscar whispered.
Jesse smiled and it was brighter than the heat lamps. It was brighter even than the real sun of Oscar’s imagination. He wanted to dedicate the rest of his life to keeping that smile on Jesse’s face as often as he possibly could. Alas, at least for now, that wasn’t meant to be.
“Shit,” Jesse proclaimed, looking down at his phone. “I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be babysitting the twins tonight. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
Oscar didn’t want him to leave. He was desperately afraid, now more than ever, that as soon as Jesse walked out the door that would be the end of it. The kissing. The friendship. Everything. He nodded along anyway though. He knew he couldn’t keep Jesse away from his family, and deep down he didn’t want to. He wasn’t that selfish. Jesse stood and quickly got redressed in the outfit he had arrived
in while Oscar slipped back into his swim trunks.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to dismantle the set pieces,” Jesse said, bending over to give the top of Oscar’s head a little kiss.
A tiny bit of the tension pooling in Oscar’s gut eased. Tomorrow, he thought. Jesse would be back here tomorrow. He hadn’t ruined anything.
“Okay,” Oscar said.
Jesse gave him one last tender look and a final kiss goodbye before rushing out the door.
Afterward, Oscar stayed put and continued replaying the afternoon’s events over and over again in his head. He had had sex. Kind of. Indirectly, but it still counted. At least, he thought it did. He felt a lot calmer about it than he thought he would too. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the shape of Jesse’s body or the feelings of arousal that lingered most in Oscar’s mind. It was the intensity with which Jesse had looked at him. Like he was more than a lonely has-been. Like he was life’s ultimate grand prize. Oscar decided he quite liked the feeling of being wanted.
Over the course of the following hours, he made no move to get up or get dressed. There, lying shirtless under softly buzzing heat lamps, Oscar was able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks.
Chapter Ten
“I think you should see a therapist,” Jesse said the next morning before he even got all the way into the apartment.
“Nice to see you too,” Oscar mumbled under his breath, clearly not pleased with the idea, but he stepped aside and let Jesse enter anyway.
Oscar had his arms folded across his chest and a thick crease in his forehead that made him look like an old disgruntled tomcat. He was wearing basketball shorts and a pale blue V-neck that perfectly complemented his brown skin and clung to his shoulders, revealing the muscle he was usually so good at hiding.
Jesse closed and locked the door behind him and sidled in close to Oscar, placing both hands over his tensed biceps. Jesse knew he was the king of beating around the bush and carefully weaving his thoughts into casual conversations to make them more palatable, but he didn’t want to do that with Oscar. He cared about him. He wanted him to get the help that he needed as soon as possible. Sure, he could impart some of the wisdom he had learned from his own therapy over the years, but he wasn’t a professional, and that didn’t seem like it’d be a healthy option for either of them.
“Please don’t be mad,” Jesse said, “I’m not trying to preach at you or force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I just want you to hear me out and consider it. Okay?”
Oscar’s shoulders slumped and he nodded briskly. Jesse led him over to the couch. They perched on the edges of two separate cushions, close enough for Jesse to touch Oscar if he wanted to, but far enough for them to talk about serious subjects without getting distracted. Hopefully. Jesse took in a deep breath.
“I really like you,” he decided to lead with.
“But I’m not dumb enough to think that I can single-handedly repair or maintain your mental health. I know there’s a lot of things about your past that you haven’t told me, and that’s fine, but it’s also clear that whatever trauma you suffered as a child is still affecting you today, and that’s not fine. Or at least, it’s not good for you.
“I want us to work out. I mean, I want there to be an us. I want to be more than just the guy who comes and visits you sometimes. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to take you out on dates and show you all my favorite restaurants and go on vacations together. I want to introduce you to my family someday, preferably after they all retire from being professional pain-in-my-ass TV personalities. That can’t happen without you working through some stuff first.
“Like I said, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I want you to do this for yourself, not for me. I’m not going to stop coming around either way, but I also don’t think it’s very smart to make things official unless we know that we’re both on the same page in terms of what we want for the future.” Jesse shrugged helplessly. “I guess that’s it for now. I just wanted to let you know how I’m feeling.”
Jesse felt thirty pounds lighter with the explanation off his chest, but unfortunately, he seemed to have dumped all that worry and stress right back onto Oscar. The other man had his fists clenched around the loose fabric of his shorts and his legs were shaking. He didn’t look angry, only contemplative. Jesse didn’t rush him to say anything even though he was dying to hear Oscar’s thoughts on the subject.
“What did you have in mind?” Oscar said finally. The words were slow and careful… not yet a yes or a no.
“Well,” Jesse began. “I’ve been seeing a cognitive therapist for years and that’s been helping me a lot. I’d say you should see her too, but I think that might be weird or a conflict of interest or something. Besides, I don’t know if my type of therapy would even help you. It’s completely based in what you think and how that affects what you do. I think you need someone who does the opposite. Still, her whole practice specializes in celebrity clients. I could ask Jocelyn for a referral next time I see her.”
Oscar had suddenly gone green in the face.
“Have you told your therapist about me?”
Jesse blinked. This was not where he had expected this conversation to go.
“Yes,” he answered honestly. “I haven’t told her your name or anything. Just that I may or may not be getting involved with a hot, former, child star. That’s another reason I think you should get therapy. I don’t want to get so worried about helping you that my own sessions turn into me telling Jocelyn your life story and milking her for advice. And I don’t want to do the opposite either, where I end up being vague and not telling her everything that’s going on with me for the sake of your privacy and end up jeopardizing my own mental health. There’s gotta be a healthy middle ground. I know we can get there with a little work. The question is, do you want us to get there?”
Oscar picked at the skin around his thumb and looked down at the floor.
“Yes,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.
Jesse’s heart was thundering in his chest. He scooted closer and took one of Oscar’s fidgeting hands.
“So, does that mean we’re dating? Like for real?”
Oscar sighed. “I guess it does.”
Jesse frowned and squeezed Oscar’s hand.
“You sound so sad about it. Are you sure this is what you want, Oz?”
There were tears spilling down Oscar’s cheeks now. Jesse wanted to kiss them away, but that sounded like a great way to derail a very important conversation. Oscar wiped them on his shirt instead.
“I am,” he said. “It’s just. I don’t want to put you through all of this. I’m a mess. I’ve built my entire adult life around avoiding things that scare me. Now here I am clinging to the scariest thing of all.”
A beat went by. It took a second for Jesse to catch Oscar’s meaning.
“Me?” he asked incredulously. “What’s so scary about me?”
“You make me want to get better. You make me want to be a part of the real world.” His breath hitched. “What if it doesn’t work? What if you get fed up with me?”
Jesse blinked rapidly. The idea was so ridiculous. Couldn’t Oscar see how happy he made him? How much he’d enriched Jesse’s life in just under two months? That he was a mess too?
“I would never get fed up with you. At least, not for the reasons you’re thinking. Maybe if you ate all my bacon or clogged the only good toilet…”
Oscar hiccup-laughed through his tears.
“You’ve been nothing but nice to me and all I’ve done is infect you with my crazy,” he said.
“Pfft. Have you seen my family? If crazy was a thing you could catch, I’d be in a looney bin already. Besides, everyone's got a little bit of crazy in them. Life’s no fun without it.”
Oscar laughed, and this time it sounded a lot less pained.
“Do you have to contradict yourself with every sentence you say?” he asked.
“Yep,” Jesse said, smiling from ear to ear.
; Oscar shook his head slowly.
“That’s my boyfriend. Can’t take him anywhere.”
Jesse laughed so hard he nearly pissed himself.
“Yeah well,” he said once he could breathe again. “Nobody’s perfect.”
Oscar smiled and gave Jesse a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You may not be perfect,” he said. “But you’re perfect for me.”
Jesse turned his head and caught Oscar in a proper kiss.
“Tell me that again after therapy.”
Chapter Eleven
Oscar’s hands and pits were sweating profusely and he couldn’t stop pacing the living room floor. The space had undergone another spontaneous stress cleaning in the last couple of days.
In addition to rearranging the furniture, Oscar had also ordered a new set of small armchairs. At first he only bought one, thinking it might be weird for him and his new therapist to talk to each other while sitting side by side on the couch. Then he thought about the things he and Jesse had been doing on said couch as of late and immediately sprung for the second one.
He had placed them so that they were facing each other against the far-right wall just underneath a couple of signed records he’d pulled out of his storage room and hung up at Jesse’s request. Between the two chairs was a small wooden card table, just in case his therapist—or he more likely—needed a stiff drink during one of their sessions.
Ugh. Sessions. Just the sound of the word alone was nauseating. How did Jesse expect him to tell a complete stranger, things he wasn’t even comfortable telling his boyfriend yet? This was a terrible idea. He knew he should just call and cancel, but then Jesse would be disappointed. Besides, it was already half past seven. She would be there any second. Just one session, he kept telling himself. One session and he could tell Jesse that he tried and they could both be done with it for a little while.
There was a light knock on the door. It was so different from Jesse’s usual three sharp raps that it actually startled him. Oscar went to go answer it, despite every muscle in his body screaming at him not to do it.