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Jay burrows himself as deep as he can on the couch. He does not know what he's doing with a slightly unbuttoned shirt, in his underwear, and with Matt looking down at him and nothing and everything happening and it had been an argument at most, a discussion, more like, Matt running his mouth a little too much like he tends to do and a string of thoughts ending awkwardly on “I've thought about us fucking before” and “what” and “well aren't you curious” and “Bird say something” and “I don't know” and “I mean it's 2017 what is stopping us” and “but we're not gay” and “I still think you have some unresolved issues” and “oh my God”. And Jay burying his face in his hands and Matt not turning away from him for a single second. And then they turned out the light and they took off their pants and now Jay is trying to make himself at home on the couch.
There’s a thing that Matt simply has, something Jay can’t pinpoint and which works on him every single time. Because he has thought about them fucking too, of course he has, he’s been made to discover it’s kind of unavoidable for it to stop squeezing its way into his brain, but Matt wasn’t supposed to just say it. There's implicit rules. Matt improvises a performance, Jay improvises a song, no one talks about the haunting thoughts about screwing each other, Matt and Jay try to get a show at the Rivoli.
They’d both done a great job of not saying it. In fact, Jay had always thought Matt would be even less willing to say it than him. He doesn’t know if Matt was just particularly horny, or if this is another one of his little tricks that Jay is simply not meant to understand. But he knows they definitely have more than one shared beer bottle between them, beer that wasn't even good but it was getting late and Jay just grabbed the first thing he saw at the store and he has no clue why they drank all of it, and being intoxicated is shutting down his resolve even further. What fight had he been putting up, anyway.
So Matt's hands are on Jay's bare legs, gently but firmly keeping them spread a little, and Jay wants to squirm but he doesn't. Jay holds onto the couch while his other hand tugs at the third button on his shirt, though he makes no effort to take it off. At this point, he wants to be asking why they haven't moved to a surface you're supposed to have sex in, such as a bed, instead of this. But he likes the tingling sensation of the tips of Matt's fingers right where they reach his knees. He says nothing.
There's something, in a way, scary, as embarrassing as that sounds, about being the one pushing on in this situation. He'd very much prefer to feel this as if done onto him instead. For Matt to be doing it. Matt can talk Jay into anything, that's the easiest excuse in his book. He’s talking Jay into having sex with him. He can tell himself he rolled his eyes and sighed and it's Matt who tugged him towards the couch. Nevermind Jay always lets him.
But right now Matt does not do anything. He just stares at him, analyzing him, like in his head he hadn’t been expecting to ever get this far. They can agree on that part. He frowns at Jay. Very intensely. And this is a very compromising position for Jay to be in. So Matt is holding his legs open and basically examining him, and Jay is embarrassed but he doesn’t know what to do, so he just lays there.
And then Matt shakes his head.
“This isn’t gonna work.”
“What does that mean?”
“Bird. You have to be on top.”
Jay opens his mouth, closes it again.
“Come on, get on me.”
“But– I don’t– You’re still holding my legs!”
Matt lets go and practically shoves Jay off as he presses himself flush against the couch. Jay’s consciousness is working slower than his actions, and it returns to his brain only when his hands and knees are on either side of Matt’s body and he’s hovering over him and Matt continues to stare and stare up at Jay. Who has Matt under him as his t-shirt rides up just a little, as his hands kind of float in the middle of apparently not wanting to full-on grope Jay just yet.
Jay, who particularly feels like he’s going insane, sees why Matt delegated the task to him, now. His internal self-justification has been thrown out the window and he slammed his face against the glass trying to jump after it. Because Matt is under him. And they're going to fuck. And he can't move.
“Bird?” Radio silence. "I’m trying not to put myself in that position, but it's more like being with a girl. Remember girls? You’ve fucked girls, Jay.”
“Yeah, I don’t know.” Stupid answer. His voice cracked. He’s scared Matt is going to point it out.
Matt doesn’t point it out. Matt puts his hands on Jay’s shoulders and rubs. He's more calculating now. His palms press between his shoulder blades, and then reach up to play with short strands of his hair and Jay breathes in and he breathes out and he says “okay. Like a girl.”
“Yeah.”
“This isn’t homosexual.”
Pause. “Well, I. I don’t know about that.”
“But.”
“I mean the thing you’ll have to, like… Your positioning. The thrusting, I suppose. Is reminiscent of heterosexual sex. But we are still men. And–”
“Hold on.”
“And we are engaging in a highly homosexual activity.”
“You're not supposed to say that. You're supposed to say it is completely hetero, we're best friends. Uh, Bird.”
Matt’s new favorite thing seems to be staring at Jay and doing nothing. Jay doesn't like how his expression doesn't say anything.
“Bird,” Matt sighs.
“You missed the rest,” he jokes. It doesn't land. “Just. Whatever. So. You're implying gay sex is just about the same as straight sex?”
Initiating stupid ping-pong dialogue is enough for Matt to let it go. He knows not to refuse to ease into that. “Oh, I think that’s a very powerful reflection, Jay.”
“Huh.”
“I think the world would improve. If we all accepted this as a fact.”
“That gay sex is the same as straight sex.”
“Same thing. Well, in my honest opinion.”
“Right, but you–”
“But I know what I'm talking about, yeah.” (That wasn’t what Jay was going to say. In fact, Jay sincerely doubts this is true, but he's not one to know either. Honestly, he doesn't really care whenever Matt pretends to know what he's doing. It barely even works most of the time. It comes down to the fact it’s Matt doing it, and that's all that matters.) Matt asks, a little more doubtful: “Do you have any established opinions? On this topic?”
“Uh.”
“Just any thoughts in general.”
“I don’t… I haven't done much in a while. And, you know, I don’t really wanna think while we’re doing this.”
Matt laughs. For some fucking reason. “Oh, I know, birdie. Where’s your mind right now?”
“Where… what?”
“Hold on. I’m gonna take off your shirt.”
Again, his body seems to be acting according to Matt’s orders. So he sits back on Matt's thighs. Matt’s hands unbutton and then peel off his shirt, and he stays perfectly still as Matt removes his own t-shirt, much more frantically. But he gets a hold of himself when he lays eyes on Matt’s chest. The patterns drawn over his body. Jay’s fingers reaching down so his thumbs can press down on his moles and the rest of his hand can squeeze, that’s a desire that is purely his own. He doesn’t know where it came from.
Matt clears his throat. “I–I said hold on.”
“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” Jay continues, more to himself than anything else, although he can't seem to unglue his hands from Matt's skin and Matt has been continuously touching him with such an atypical tenderness. One hand holding the nape of his neck and the other ghosting over the hair on his arms, with his knees pressing up against Jay and keeping him awkwardly tilted forward. Tilted towards Matt. Towards Matt's crotch. Holy shit.
“But you are liking it.” Matt sounds genuine. Excited, even. Like he’s got to convince Jay of this. Jay frowns and plays dumb, or at least he tries, until Matt pushes his knees up a little further and Jay almost falls forward and fuck are they both hard. Matt holds Jay by the waist, and that's not something they've done this blatantly before, yet the certainty in Matt's actions is something. Confident, as if he's saying, I’m going full out, just in case this is a dream and I regret not doing it when I wake up. Jay is starting to worry this might be a dream.
Other than the manhandling, which has Jay’s head spinning a little, they don’t move at all and they just look at each other and Jay is starting to get too nervous. His heart's tempo is unbearable and he's scared Matt is going to point it out.
Matt doesn't point it out. But it seems he still wants to aim for the jaw.
“I wish you could see how you’re looking at me. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re just so cute, Jay,” he starts, genuinely, and Jay really, really doesn’t want to think about the consequences of that. Of Matt complimenting him and him liking it a lot. And Matt seems to notice this. He always notices. “I mean it. Your eyes are darting back and forth right now but they’re– I’m just gonna describe it to you. You like playing coy sometimes, I know, but that's not what you're doing right now, is it. You’re blushing and your lips are just a little parted, you know? I don’t think you realize but your mouth is doing that, like, all the time. It looks sort of like– I can't copy it right. It's the shape of your lips that really does it. And it just shocks me how much you really are like a bird. I do love calling you that. I lo– I like. You. And all of this.”
Matt loves talking.
Jay is getting a little too into it.
“I think we’re both drunk.” He goes quieter. Not any less warm and true, just maybe. Darker. “And I’m just saying whatever’s on my mind. But I like that I can take care of you. And I like that I can make you feel like this. I, uh. I like that it's. Me. Because I know, Jay, that if I haven't already, I'm sure no one else has seen you like this, either. I don’t mean just general sex. Girls never get you like this, do they? It’s just me, isn’t it?”
Jay got what he wanted. He asked and Matt gave it to him, because he’s in a haze and he can't think about anything at all.
“Are you liking this?”
Jay nods. Matt stares. And he looks so happy. So proud of himself. Possessive, maybe.
Matt sticks his fingers in his mouth. Jay wants to stop and ask what this is gonna be. But then Matt holds Jay's ear. And he's rubbing his earlobe. With his wet fingers. And Jay makes such a sound he almost entirely takes himself out of it.
He wants to ask Matt why on Earth does he know what Jay does to himself when he masturbates. He wants to feel a little humiliated by such a stupid little touch being enough to rile him up. He wants to get told it's because they've lived together for so long and to still be uncertain about how much Matt could possibly know about him and he– He wants– He wants Matt to keep going. He wants to touch Matt for the rest of his life. He wants Matt.
He reaches up to grab Matt by the hair. It's long right now. He likes it better like this.
“Feels real good, doesn’t it?”
Jay pulls.
“Ah! Oh, sneaky, huh. Bird, you're so– Just keep– Yeah. Jay, oh my God. Oh.”
He's not even saying anything. But Jay’s hand tightens and untightens in his hair every now and then and he's sort of playing with Matt's voice like he does with the volume on a piano. Jay imagines this is how a key feels when it strikes a hammer into the string and makes it sing. His other hand still presses down on Matt's chest.
But his hold loosens shortly after because Matt rubs his ear a little faster and he feels like a fucking dog being pet, eyes shutting closed, mouth falling open, practically humping Matt's thigh. He's fucking fluttering. Over Matt. Though he cannot seem to imagine himself doing so over anyone else.
“Bird?”
Jay feels morose. Something's definitely up with him. But it doesn't feel bad. “Ah?”
“There you go.”
He doesn't understand. He looks down at Matt and Matt is smirking like he does sometimes. He smirks like that at the camera. He never smirks like that at Jay, because, of course, much like anything else, it's not meant for Jay to understand. He doesn't care. He only wants to be engulfed in Matt’s eyes, to be happy that he's throwing himself in his arms and about to be surrounded by his devoted and undivided attention.
He makes himself lay closer to Matt as he reaches down to fondle him through his underwear. He has no fucking idea what he's doing and his arm may or may not fall asleep real soon, but he can't linger on that concern for too long, because Matt is very vocal about enjoying that, so, whatever. Jay swallows the mix of dryness in his throat and his own saliva and nuzzles Matt's chest and gets the strong and pulsating urge to kiss him. He doesn't.
“Oh my God,” groans Matt, regardless. “You really are everything.”
Jay looks up at Matt from where he is. “I… What?”
“You're everything, Jay.”
No. No. Too much to interpret all at once. Too personal. He’s forced to strain his brain to question if, this entire time, Matt's either been far too honest, or he's just figuring out everything Jay wants to hear to keep him turned on.
“Matt, don't–”
“You're just so cute. And you're making me feel good. I think you're straight up the greatest person I've ever met.”
Jay huffs and hides himself again and with the way the blood's rushing to his face he’s almost going dizzy. He keeps a steady pace while stroking him, speeding up progressively, and then Jay figures he should tell Matt something, too, so he settles for letting out a muffled “thank you.”
Matt is so noisy that Jay is honestly glad they don’t have any real neighbors. He’s not actually bothered by it, but it really goes to show how little they’ve been having sex with anyone the entire time they’ve been living together, because Jay had no fucking clue. Although he can’t say he didn’t assume this would be what he was signing up for.
“Fuck.” There’s a lot of that coming from Matt, yeah. “I think I’m not gonna– Maybe we should make this faster.”
Jay doesn't think so, but he's too busy burying his nose in Matt's shoulder to voice this.
“Bird, listen. New plan. We’re not doing it heterosexual.”
And Jay lifts himself in confusion. But Matt wraps his legs around Jay’s waist and then brings him back down with leg-strength alone so they’re pressed together as closely as possible. The newfound friction or the thought of Matt being able to reposition him with only his thighs or maybe just his overall arousal is enough to pull a whine out of him.
“Like this.”
It's awkward. Matt moves his hips up and down but his legs are still tight around Jay, so doesn't have much space and Jay has to start moving back and forth. It's good, though. It feels less like sex with a girl and more like just two buddies? Hanging out? By frotting against each other? When he's hanging onto Matt's every word like he is right now, it's hard for Jay to keep lying to himself about it.
(Later, reflecting back on this, he supposes it’s better. It’s less real if nothing goes in and nothing touches anything. If the thinnest layer of clothes keeps the separation there, there’s a forgiven lack of honesty. If he doesn't kiss him. Because he and Matt aren't just two buddies, they're best friends, and the concept of other labels Jay doesn't even want to consider replacing what they already are makes his stomach ache. The lights are off and even then, if Jay keeps closing his eyes, though he thinks of Matt, Matt, Matt, maybe everything can be simpler.)
Everyone's desperate now. Matt struggles to keep his sentences coherent, but Jay doesn't even try to understand him anymore. The heat runs over his whole body. Cold follows where sweat forms. Nothing but Jay being the one forcing Matt to catch up to him, for once, grinding over and over. They keep it up for a while, and it’s a little pathetic, but they make do, and there’s no one else here to give an opinion on that. He particularly thinks about no camera being here, of this being how they’re using the few hours of the day they’re not being recorded, about how private this is in comparison to everything else.
And Jay finally can discern that Matt keeps murmuring, “Jaybird, oh my God, you're so good,” and Jay keeps going and going and then he squeezes his eyes shut and hears himself croon. Out of his own body. Still sliding up and down Matt's pelvis as fast as he can manage and then Matt takes his earlobe in between his lips and his teeth scrape so, so gently against his skin and oh God. He’s staining his own underwear like it's a fucking wet dream, and it’s rushing over to change as soon as he wakes up, and Matt still having the fucking gall to point out that he saw him, by the way, as soon as they're done with breakfast. Asking “did you have fun last night”. His whole body tightens up and he feels some bones in his back crack. It's been a while since he's stretched like that. The knowledge of that is somehow as pleasant as his whole orgasm.
He goes limp. And lands on Matt. Skin to skin. Sweat to sweat, more like.
The shame creeps up on him soon enough. The sticky mess and knowing he was doing anything he was told, and the fragility and it probably not looking hot at all and the fact that he came first and the fear that he's going to look up at Matt and he's going to be laughing. This shouldn’t have happened. This is supposed to be a fantasy he represses. And Matt just roped him into making it real. He needs to gather himself, pull off, rush to the bathroom, just let Matt take care of his erection on his own and tomorrow no one’s going to remember anything.
But Matt's hand runs softly through his hair, because Matt is always clingy, and he doesn't hear any words but he can sense the vibrations of Matt's voice because he's still talking, because Matt is always fucking talking, and Jay doesn’t really want to deal with his actions, not right now and not ever, but he likes this, he does. So. He gives in and gingerly wraps his arms around Matt.
His eyes close, but he feels Matt's other hand reach down as he desperately helps himself come. Jay knows Matt goes over the edge when the hand in his hair tugs a little too hard and he's too sensitive to stop another whimper against Matt's chest, and then Matt moans, loud, and then he turns completely still. He's out of breath, afterwards, panting a little too much right in Jay's ear. Exhaling the smell of that really shitty beer directly against his skin. Constantly talking and clinging and making noise. It's Matt doing it. It’s familiar. Matt returns the hug as tightly as he can. In case I regret not doing it when I wake up, Jay supposes.
Jay somehow feels more secure than any other time in his life. Although they just humped each other like freaks, he's rarely ever been so blissed out before. His underwear's getting uncomfortable, and they barely fit in this couch, but Matt holds onto him and he holds onto Matt and he swears he can almost hear Matt sniffling. He doesn't point it out. He doesn't even check, really.
In spite of everything inside him yelling to just stop leaning into it, Jay realizes he wants to be drifting off as Matt absent-mindedly toys with his hair. There's a sense, here, in this couch, of never needing anything else. Of this couch being the epicenter of their house. There's a moment where Matt feels like the only other person in the universe, and maybe it's true. And it means the only other person in the universe is choosing to hug Jay like he's worth all of it and more. Which is a very nice thought.
Matt hasn’t moved from under him the next morning, despite being very, very awake when Jay opens his eyes. He groggily mutters an apology (for what? He leaves it open-ended.) He forces himself not to fight it when Matt pulls him impossibly closer and leans in to kiss his temple. Jay's left with cramped muscles (this fucking couch) and a blush on his face. For what he thinks is the first time in their lives, Matt stays quiet.