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Tenderness wasn't welcome there, in the apartment they shared. There was some unspoken goodwill, sure, but nothing explicit and nothing gentle. Where tenderness and warmth would normally reside in a home lay a sort of… spiky comfortability. It wasn't to say the air inside was foreign, or antagonistic; they were friends, after all. Best friends. They didn't have much outside of each other, so even the atoms that made up their bodies and the soundwaves that carried their voices had to hold some kind of comfort to each other.
The absence of tenderness instead showed its teeth by placing what comfort did exist at a cliff's edge. At any moment, a conversation could become an argument, a competition. Jay couldn't keep his guard up constantly, but it felt like his defense should have a hair trigger, just in case. It seemed like Matt's offense had one. He liked to put Jay on the spot at random, and he knew Jay hated it. Maybe that was the reason Matt liked it so much, or maybe the reason Jay hated it so much. Everything always got a little cyclical when it came to them, to these spiky aspects of their dynamic. Which came first, the director's harsh and cutting spotlight, or the complaints from the actor adorned with its serrated edge?
This "who shot first?" question drafted in and out of each of their heads anytime Matt turned on that dreaded proverbial spotlight. If Matt didn't question him about it, Jay wouldn't have gotten all wound up and defensive, and it wouldn't have turned into "a whole thing". If Jay didn't say or do something worthy of criticism and questioning, Matt wouldn't have needed to "get all weird about it".
Then, beyond the initial bump developed a slippery slope that seemed to span hundreds and thousands of miles. A "chicken" game of back and forth, where the rules aren't discussed and both players usually think they won AND lost in the end. Sometimes it was only words that got exchanged. Sometimes it became a different competition; whoever wins Mario Kart, best 2 out of 3. Sometimes they fought hand-to-hand or wrestled; sometimes briefly, sometimes as long as their bodies could manage to. For some reason, the stakes felt extremely high for both of them. Like their manhood, or dignity were on the line. It felt like life or death, like losing would put them at the complete mercy of the other.
This game without a name, without real or consistent rules and only victories and losses, bets and deals- this was something very contained between the pair. Something unusual. It felt sticky, sort of perverse, like it was something they shouldn't really be doing. Like despite being fully grown adults, their parents could come in at any moment and they'd be in trouble. This game was exclusive and private, they both felt like such a threat to each other, yet completely defenseless at the same time, and that discrepancy couldn't be shared with anyone but each other. A trust based on mutual distrust, and a distrust based on mutual trust. "It's good to trust someone and not trust someone at the same time", Matt was one to say. Jay would usually reply that it didn't make any sense, but really, he knew what he was getting at, even if they never addressed this dynamic.
Matt usually "won" by virtue of his insistence, but winning was never enough to satiate Matt, nor could he really accept having lost without getting a victory in some other category to even it out. He was a bad winner, a bad loser, and overwhelmingly insistent in everything he did. Jokes, insults, plans, opinions, arguments… Everything Matt did was with such insistence that it made everything and everyone around him sink like tar while he kept doing whatever it was he was determined to. You could liken his temperament in these moments to a dark joke that didn't land, where the teller keeps going and going on and on in the hopes that eventually someone will have a big reaction, whether positive or negative.
Even when Jay won, he hadn't really won, because they'd be playing the game as long as Matt wanted them to. He often fought like a kid on a playground who kept changing the rules however he wanted to so he always won, or was immune to fire, or how something didn't count.
Eventually, even the known-to-be-unknown rules of this game became unpromised, as Matt started to escalate the stakes each time, and make new games with new rules. More ways to make each other look foolish, or cause each other pain, fear, or other unpleasantries. A convoluted way of rubbing salt in a wound. And most pertinently, a distinction between winner and loser. Jay protested most of these changes, but it was hard to draw a line with Matt when he was so determined. The whites of his eyes were a stark warning to Jay that he was invincible for a period of time, like he'd picked up a powerup and may as well be flashing rainbow colors and bouncing off the walls. He'd been flashing those eyes at Jay more often recently, which may also suffice as explanation for Jay's current losing streak, which Matt was actively marking on the board on this particular evening.
"I thought we didn't keep score of this stuff." Jay complained, his input awarding him only with an exaggerated shushing from Matt as he continued scribbling.
"We didn't, but now we have to, 'cause you-" his laugh soaked venom into his words, "oh man, it's been loss after loss after LOSS with you, Bird!" Matt finished up his annotated tally marks, hands on his hips with pride. Jay peered up at it through his furrowed brow, and sputtered, gesturing disapprovingly. 20 losses in a row? It used to be more evenly split, even if Matt usually had the lead due to his superpower of insistence. Jay often won more physical competitions and video games, while Matt had the upper hand in arguments and games of chance, but they felt they were evenly matched overall. Well, until these last 20 losses, apparently.
"You probably made, like… half of this up." Jay attempted, but he knew the score was all true, with only a few embellishments; mostly Matt's claims that he won a race by a mile, or that Jay cried after losing so horribly.
"Okay, OH-kay, you wanna go down the line and tell me which one of these is made up?" Matt pushed, holding the marker out to Jay. When he didn't take it right away, Matt waved it around in front of his face, prompting Jay to swat his hand away a couple times, before complying, taking it so he'd give it up.
Sure enough, as Jay looked at each loss, he remembered every one of them. Less from the records of the actual competitions and more by the consequences; the bets settled and punishments dished out. He could also see, now that it was all laid out, the aforementioned escalation.
-Matt gets $20 from Jay
-Matt gets the last beer in the fridge
-Jay cleans the massive pile of dishes in the sink
-Matt gets a sandwich Jay bought for himself
-Jay sleeps on the livingroom floor instead of his bed (3 nights)
-Matt gets free use of Jay's phone for an hour
-Jay plays out an elaborately ridiculous scenario with strangers (x5)
-Matt sets off fireworks behind Jay
-Matt gets three free punches at Jay
-Jay has to eat whatever Matt makes (gross on purpose)
-Matt gets to cut Jay's hair
-Drinking game + photos
-Matt writes on Jay's back in sharpie
-Jay wears Matt's (dirty) clothes
-Matt gets to spit in Jay's mouth (+ swallow)
-Jay has to go commando to friend's wedding
Arguably, coming from Matt, these things could have been a lot scarier. But with the way the last couple went, Jay was worried about how much worse it could get. It was hard to believe he'd actually let these things happen, looking back. But in the moment, each one felt inescapable, like refusing wasn't an option because of the rules Matt had made up. That was how Matt was with most things he wanted, but especially about this game.
Jay recalled the spitting incident, how he was struggling and squirming despite having agreed to the terms, and how Matt had to eventually get so close they may as well have been kissing in some vile and intimately awful definition of the word. They had to be that close because Matt kept missing Jay's mouth when he spat. Jay couldn't tell if it was because of how much he was moving, or if Matt was doing it on purpose to drench Jay's whole face and hair in his saliva. It wouldn't be unrealistic, Matt had some spit-related obsession like a high school bully. He'd lick and suck on his fingers after eating and wipe them on Jay's clothes or his arm, periodically reveal that he'd spat in Jay's food or drink, and claim things by licking them or spitting on them. Jay wondered if that claim system applied to him, then buried that thought as quickly as it appeared.
Jay couldn't decide if the commando wedding was better or worse. Matt had insisted on watching him change so he could verify he wasn't going to secretly wear boxers, then kept poking at Jay (physically and verbally) throughout the whole event. Jay was paranoid it would turn out to be a setup to pants him and ruin the wedding, and he kept fidgeting with his belt and pockets. The worst part was that he was rock hard for no discernable reason, and the lack of boxers made it a lot harder to conceal. He wasn't sure if Matt noticed or not, but most of the night, Jay decided to cover his shame with his jacket in his lap. Matt claimed this was cheating, but made no effort to remove it. Maybe that meant he had seen. Jay buried that thought too.
Despite these very vivid recollections, Jay had to maintain his argument that Matt was making stuff up. It was really hard for Jay to admit he was wrong, or that he'd lied, even when he'd been caught. Reuniting the marker with the whiteboard, he circled "Drinking game + photos". He remembered half of that one, so it would've been only half a lie to say it didn't happen at all. But he had gotten really drunk, evidently lost the game, and he didn't remember anything after that, barely any of the morning after. The hesitation that followed the circling made it obvious that he had nothing else to push back on.
At this pause, Matt jumped in beside Jay and laughed when he saw what he'd chosen. "Wait, are you serious? That's the hill you're gonna die on? The one thing we did that I have physical proof of?"
Jay could feel his ears getting hot, his stomach felt empty, and like it was jumping up and down like an elevator going haywire. "Well- I don't remember it!" He spat, unable to look Matt in the eye. "I don't remember the game, I don't remember the terms, and I don't remember the photos, so you're lying."
A malicious smile spread across Matt's face while Jay argued. He nodded sarcastically, somewhat overlapping the end of Jay's sentence with the beginning of his. "Yeah, okay, sure, Jay. Here's what we'll do." Oh no. "If you're so sure-"
"I don't wanna-" Jay started to turn his body to leave, but Matt grabbed him by the arm.
"Nooo, no no! Aht!" Matt barked, as Jay pulled out of his grip immediately, but he simply stood slightly farther back with his arms crossed. This was passable to Matt, because he was still a captive audience at this distance. "If you're gonna say that this," he tapped the bullet point on the whiteboard incessantly, "didn't happen, you have to make a bet on it."
"Matt, this is stupid. I don't want to do this." Jay expressed, but he should've known he'd already lost the moment Matt first uncapped the marker.
"What? You don't wanna do what?" Matt spoke in staccato, closing the already slim space between the two. "You don't wanna make a bet because you know you're wrong?"
This was a crossroad, but they both sort of led to the same place. Jay could admit he was lying to try to get one singular point removed from his losing streak, or he could stand his ground and they'd end up in another game. It sounded like a lose/lose, should his streak continue, but only one option gave him a shot at winning. If not by evidence, then maybe by willpower. And… actually, Matt would've definitely shown Jay those photos to make fun of him by now if he had them. He was probably pretty drunk that night, too, so who was to say any photos were actually taken? No matter what, option two was his best bet. Digging in his heels, as usual.
"No, I just know you're bluffing. You don't have any photos." Jay affirmed, knowing his body was likely giving away many tells that he was mentally flailing around this whole situation.
Matt's eyes were wide- invincible. Shit. Those accursed peepers were accompanied by a sick grin that justified Jay's terror even more. "Right, right, sure. So what's your wager?"
Unusual. Normally Matt would fight tooth and nail to set the bar, without Jay being able to get a single word in edgewise. But here, Jay knew what the expectation was. Matt was really saying "impress me", he was saying "tell me what i want to hear", or maybe just trying to get Jay to put himself into a trap. Was it more embarrassing if it was Jay's idea? There was a way he could get around that part.
"...If you don't have the photos, you have to… I get to… uh…" Jay stumbled around his own sentence. He was surely going insane. Every option he came up with felt like it was going through a filter of what Matt would want to do to *him*, not the other way around. Fuck, he needed to get his head on straight. Straight? Yeah, straight. Very, very straight. "If the photos aren't real, you have to let me tie you up."
Matt let that hang in the air for a beat. "...And?"
"And-"
"And do whatever you want with me?" Matt finished the sentence for him, an ecstatic lift in his voice. Jay started to answer in the affirmative, but Matt cut him off again. "You sick fuck. You are sick, you know that?" He pressed his hand on his own chin, playing up how much he was thinking. "Same for you if you lose?"
Jay didn't like where this was going, and he was more convinced by the second that Matt really did have evidence. But here he was, surrounded on all sides, walking into the trap. I mean, being tied up by Matt sounded shitty, but how bad could that really get? He'd survived all the other punishments, this would just be another embarrassing thing neither of them would tell another living soul. And eventually he'd get him back worse, right? No turning back.
"...Sure."
That moment sort of felt like how Jay imagined it would feel to sign over your soul to the devil, watching Matt's entire body basically start glowing with a horrible, impish delight. His laugh felt heavy, laced with lead as it rippled through his whole face, through the whole room. Tense, he dropped his hands onto Jay's shoulders and shook him back and forth a little, emulating a friendly celebration, but with the tightness of a person who wants to dissect you, or crush you between their fingers. Jay knew it was curtains for him, but tried still not to show it on his face. He uncomfortably laughed along, but tried to wrench himself from Matt's grip again. Matt allowed this, punctuating the finalized terms with two stiff pats on Jay's back, ascending the stairs to presumably fetch the photos from an unknown location.
Now, Jay could run. He could run out the door and never come back. He could hide somewhere, in a closet, under his bed. He could yell upstairs and try to call the whole thing off. But it felt as inevitable as death itself, like every other time. So instead of becoming an escape artist, he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands in defeat.
Soon enough, Matt bounded down the stairs with his beloved copy of Treasure Island held between both his hands, his knuckles white from the pressure. Frenzied, he slammed down on the couch next to Jay, opening the book to the very center and fishing out a collection of polaroids. Jay peeked at them through the gap between his fingers, and his chest instantly tightened as he removed his hands from his face, using them instead to leaf through the pictures.
The amount of photos was obscene, some were good, most were bad. But all contained a very drunk Jay, in only his boxers. Close ups of his face, full-body shots laying on the floor, some of him drinking more alcohol, or dancing, some photos without his face, photos of… oh. As Jay shifted around more of the photos, they crescendoed into madness. Photos of Jay's ass, some with his boxers on, some off. There were a few of him hanging on Matt's leg, in them he could see his gangly arms wrapped all the way around, his cheek pressed against Matt's pant leg and his eyes looking up, past the camera at Matt's face. In all the photos, he looked stupid and malleable, like Matt could've posed him in any way and he would've complied. In fact, he was sort of suspicious that that was what had happened, based on some of them. In one, he was laid out on his back, with his legs bent and spread out above him. In another few, he was on his knees, and in some of those, Matt's fingers were in his mouth. Seeing them, Jay was speechless, his face completely pale and his body stiff and squirming.
Jay couldn't put into exact words the way these photos made him feel. He felt humiliated, objectified, somewhat sexualized in a way he'd never felt before. And that felt… good? Really, halfway good and halfway bad. They were at least somewhat erotic, which fed Jay's ego (he thought he looked like a pornstar), but immensely debasing. But even though Matt was laughing at the photos even now, they had been tucked so securely between the pages of his favorite book. He didn't show them to anyone, assumedly. This was private, like their games. Sure, it was emasculating and compromising, but he didn't feel betrayed by Matt taking the pictures. He felt strangely comforted that it was Matt taking them. Because Matt understood Jay, he understood the game, and he didn't have to explain anything to Matt.
Though, saying that candidly would be too much. Too tender, too weird, too… gay-sounding. These feelings were probably the one thing he couldn't trust Matt with, not explicitly at least. Also, he wasn't ready to unpack the fingers in his mouth. He wanted that one as far away from himself as he could get it, too many foreign and confusing feelings about that. He was drunk, blackout even. That couldn't mean anything, Matt probably made him do that anyway. Is that better or worse than if he did it himself? That elevator-stomach feeling was back, spreading across Jay's whole body; his stomach, his head, legs, arms, and worst: his dick. Completely random, unrelated to all this, right.
Jay's private contemplation and subsequent panic was interrupted by Matt turning to another page of the book and lifting up a different photo, this one was kept separate from the others. Matt held it out in front of Jay with both hands, tentative, like he would have to keep it from being snatched away. "This one's my favorite." He said, his voice gentler than usual. Did that mean it was sincere? Sincerity was always a mystery with Matt. Featured in this photo was Jay laid across Matt's body on the couch, asleep, with a blanket over his back. His arms circled Matt's torso, and Matt's hand was in Jay's hair. It was an unexpectedly tender scene, an unfamiliar state of being for them without a hint of tenseness or spikiness. Before Jay could answer, Matt had already hidden his favorite one away again, turning the book pages back to the larger collection and snickering at them.
"Why that one?" Jay finally got out, despite the photo's absence.
Matt buffered blankly, which signalled to Jay he was coming up with some airs to put on, transforming from real Matt into stage Matt, and that whatever he said next would be a means to bury whatever the real answer was; like a bag of sand in place of a golden statue. "You know, actually, I lied. I was just fucking with you." He "admitted" through a tense simper, searching for a bit before settling on one and pointing fervently at it. "THIS, this one's my favorite, you wanna know why?"
It was only after Matt had finished his question that Jay processed which picture it was: Matt's fingers in his mouth. Specifically, one with a visible line of drool drooping down from his lips. This sent a shudder of shockwaves through Jay's body again, and wordlessly, he endeavored to get it out of Matt's possession as quickly as possible. Matt was faster, though, and held it up above both their heads, using his free hand to push Jay's face back, his thumb scratching against Jay's scruff. The other photos spilled out over their couch, into the cushions and under their bodies as they wrestled, Jay made his way on top of Matt, knocking his hat off, and onto the ground, where Treasure Island fell too. He kept reaching for the picture, but Matt was slippery, weaseling it out of the way at every turn, eventually sticking the polaroid down his pants, a place he knew Jay wouldn't try to reach into. It worked, Jay backed off, dumbfounded and staring at Matt's torso, trying to find some answer to this puzzle. Simultaneously, he couldn't wrench his eyes from where Matt's shirt had ridden up, revealing his navel and a glimpse of his happy trail. It felt weird, knowing that photo of Jay was at the end of that very trail right now- was it just in Matt's jeans, or in his underwear too?
From Jay's stupor, Matt managed to push him off, standing up off the couch entirely. "You're awfully agitated right now, Bird. Are you really that impatient to give me my prize?" Putting it like "Matt's prize" instead of "Jay's penalty" stabbed through Jay's guts and scrambled his brain. This was too much, way too much exposure to these feelings that were mostly sparse, much easier to ignore when he wasn't marinating in them, like he was now.
"...No." was all Jay could manage, until he was prompted by Matt's incredulously raised eyebrows, and extended hand. Jay uncharacteristically didn't know exactly what Matt wanted, other than for him to speak again. "What?" He pushed, which made Matt roll his eyes, annoyed.
"Do you want to know why that one's my favorite?" Matt repeated from before their tussle, which felt to Jay like a million years ago, and to Matt like only a millisecond had passed.
"Why?"
"Because you wouldn't stop begging for me to take it." Matt sneered. "Well, I guess you were asking for all the ones with my fingers in your mouth. But after I took it, you told me this was your favorite. Which is why it's my favorite."
Jay couldn't handle hearing any of that being said out loud. His heart was racing at a bpm he imagined himself playing at- his mind was composing a deranged circus-y tune that would play in the background of this scene, if it were a movie. "You're making that up. I wouldn't say that."
"How would you know? You don't even remember it! You're lucky I don't have a recording of you asking. You were like- 'Matt, c'mon please… I need you to take a couple of me sucking on your fingers, please Matt, I'll do anything, please-'"
"Matt, this isn't funny."
"Oh, you don't think so? I think it's pretty funny. Did you see the photo?"
"Matt."
"I think you actually gagged on them too, that's how far you wanted them in there. Yeah, you did- you gagged on them and then kept going. I was like 'Bird, take it easy!' and you were all like 'Mmfh mmph mmuphmrh.'"
Jay crossed his arms.
"'Cause my fingers-"
"Alright, I get it! I don't wanna talk about this anymore. The photos are real, you win and I lose. I made an ass of myself when I was blackout drunk and you took advantage of it for your stupid game to get one over on me. It's not funny, it's not cool, you're just being an asshole." Jay's voice was cracking, which he hoped would go unaddressed. He'd reached his limit, and wanted to shut down this whole ordeal. But again, the game wasn't over until Matt wanted it to be.
Matt was quiet and expressionless at first, letting Jay's outburst hang in the dead air; spiky, spiny silence filling the room. "You lose?" He tested.
"Yes, Matt. I lose."
Matt rubbed his hands together excitedly, almost hungrily. "And I win? Tell- Tell me, what do I win?" He cupped a hand against his ear and leaned toward Jay.
This was somehow worse than the pictures. "You're gonna tie me up."
"Aaaaand?" Matt prodded.
"...And do whatever you want with me." Jay echoed from their prior agreement, as if there was a gun to his head.
Matt looked completely psychotic, high off the knowledge that Jay was thoroughly caught in his trap. He pumped his fists in the air, with a celebratory "Yes!", and promptly got to digging through piles of their dirty clothes on the ground in search of neckties.
Meanwhile, Jay was coming to terms with his fate, gathering up all the photos that had fallen out of the book and reluctantly returning them to their home, trying not to let his eyes actually process the contents. What would Matt do with Jay tied up? How long would this go on for? All these unknowns kept Jay in a fight or flight mode he tried to suppress.
It was hard, letting Matt do these things. Like a prey animal, everything in Jay's body would be screaming at him to kick at Matt, run away, claw and fight him off. Sometimes he would listen to that voice, but eventually, it was better to override that fear, go limp, and let Matt do whatever he was determined to. Maybe that's what happened that night with the photos. It pained Jay that he only had Matt's word to go off of. Surely he was putting it on, to make him feel emasculated. That's what Jay told himself, at least. He had to find some form of comfort right now.
"Oh Birdiiiie." Matt called, like he was summoning a pet. He had five of their ties in his hand, two of Matt's and three of Jay's. Jay bit at the inside of his cheek, the dread was eating him alive. This was stupid, he was so stupid. Normal people don't have to go through shit like this. But he and Matt weren't normal people, as much as Jay wanted to be, pretended to be. Still, he came where he was called, meeting Matt where he stood, dead center of the room. Obstinately, he held out his wrists for Matt to bind them, turning his face away so he wouldn't have to watch.
"Oh, that's just pitiful, Jay." Matt chastised, securing Jay's wrists together, tugging on the tie to ensure it was tight enough. After this, he took advantage of Jay's intentional inattentiveness and swept his legs, causing him to fall to the floor on his ass.
"OW, Matt!" Jay berated, but Matt just snickered, biting down on his tongue demeaningly as he bound Jay's ankles together, too.
"You know what would be really funny? I mean, we couldn't do this." Matt posited, and Jay groaned, knowing he was gonna be going on about this for longer than was necessary. Which, by the way, none of it was necessary. "I mean, I guess we could. From up by the light. You'd pass out. But I would hang you from the ceiling, upside-down?" It was a statement, but he said it like a question, asking for approval.
Jay scoffed a bit. "And do what?"
"Probably smack you around with a stick. Like a piñata. Or like a punching bag." Matt shadowboxed, letting out hisses of air with each punch the way real boxers do.
"You can still do both of those things without me… hanging upside-down." Jay argued, though he hoped it didn't sound like he wanted to get beaten up.
"But you won't swing around, you're not getting the point, you're not seeing my vision!"
Jay rolled his eyes. "You're fucked up in the head."
"And you're at my mercy." Matt kicked Jay's side with his foot, pushing him to roll over. He let out an "ow" that was ignored by Matt, as he notched the other three neckties onto his belt loops, for later.
"Even without you hanging, though, there's so much I could do with this." Matt beamed down at Jay, almost art-blocked at the sheer potential this situation had. Jay was like a blank canvas right now, it was difficult to make the first brush stroke, especially without input. It was better not to fully break Jay too early, more rewarding if it took some time getting there, and it was fun to watch him fight back. It suddenly dawned on him, his plans forming like scene-writing.
"We're bringing back an oldie, Bird." Matt chirped, lifting Jay by the collar of his shirt to show him the whiteboard. He pointed, but it wasn't clear to Jay which part exactly.
"One of the pun- uh, one of the things we already did?" Jay asked, but he had the wind knocked out of him as Matt dropped him, his head thudding against the ground. He groaned and rolled back onto his back, but Matt was standing closer to the board, gesturing enthusiastically to the bullet labeled "Matt gets to spit in Jay's mouth (+ swallow)".
"Jay? Jay, are you looking? Jaaaaay?"
Jay sat up, acknowledging what Matt was proposing with frustration. "Come on. You don't think it's a little boring to do something you've already done?"
"It's a callback."
"It's gross. You're gross."
"You're gonna be gross when I'm done with you, alright?" Matt insisted, approaching Jay again and towering over his prone body. Those words and this blocking made Jay feel helpless, like a cartoon damsel tied to train tracks. Except Matt was both the villain and the train, and there was no tropey hero in sight. Though, honestly, that would probably be worse. If someone came in and stopped him, having to explain the circumstances would be so much worse than enduring this. No time allowed to dwell on it and self-assure, as Matt had already started dribbling saliva onto Jay's face. He winced at this, using his hands to wipe it off, despite their bindings.
Matt scoffed. "I should tie you to like- a chair or your bed or something. 'Cause you can still move your arms, that's so stupid!" Obstinately, Jay refused to answer, and turned onto his stomach, to shield his face. This made Matt cackle. "Man, what a shit job I've done here. I'd be a terrible kidnapper, eh? You could easily get away from me right now. You could wiggle your way into the streets and be like: 'Help, help! Some fuckin'- psycho is trying to torture me!' And I'd be running after you like- actually, I'd still be faster than you. I'm not tied up, so I'd just be walking." Jay was only half listening to this monologue as he dragged himself across the floor, with no actual aspirations in mind. He didn't have time to come up with any before Matt was towing him across the ground by his ankle bindings back into place.
Matt fought to flip Jay over, Jay fought to stay on his stomach. They were both exerting all their strength, which meant Jay had the advantage, until Matt veered to reach under his shirt to jab him in the sides, making Jay spasm and reset enough for Matt to successfully turn him over and straddle his chest. He used one of his hands to pin Jay's wrists above his head, and the other to grip his jaw. "Hey." Matt snapped, now that Jay's position beneath him was secured. He wobbled the other man's face back and forth while he spoke. "I won, remember? I get to do whatever I want, right? Because I won?" Matt asked, but didn't wait for an answer, as he moved Jay's head up and down himself. "Right. Good." His voice shook a little, despite how much control he had over the situation. Was that from excitement, or nerves? Regardless, he spat onto Jay's face again, wetting his forehead.
"Oops, my poor aim, once again. Will I ever improve?" Matt sighed a dramatized sigh before progressively descending more saliva across Jay's cheeks and chin, basically coating everything except his mouth, which Jay held stubbornly shut tight. This was just like the last time, except so much worse. Last time involved a lot more convincing, coaxing, he wasn't tied up or pinned down, and he was able to wipe his face after each failed attempt. It felt more like trying to get a ball in a basket, like they were working together, despite Jay's suspicions that Matt was missing on purpose. This time, the veil was as thin as it could be. Even Matt's feigned failure was more sarcasm than denial, essentially confessing to Jay his intentions.
Matt eventually poked at Jay's tensed mouth with his finger, which was as slobbery as the rest of Jay's face. "If you want me to move on to the next thing, you've gotta let me get one in there. Y'know? Unless you're having too much fun." Jay furrowed his brow, afraid to open his mouth to reply. Matt found this hilarious, tapping his finger on and off. "Oh, that's gotta be it! Was that why you kept dodging last time, too? You were hoping I'd keep going?" Of course, Matt was blaming Jay for it, as if he wasn't the one spitting everywhere.
"I do actually want to move on to the next thing, though. We'll be up all night if you make me drag this out." Matt spoke with a sincerely annoyed overtone. "Open wide!"
Jay just barely separated his lips as Matt started to dangle a long string of spit over Jay's mouth, wagging it back and forth without it breaking. "Jesus Christ, just ge-" Jay started, but Matt silenced him, using his fingers to hold Jay's teeth apart, finally permitting his spit to land on Jay's tongue. Matt didn't have to tell him what he expected next, only widened his eyes, removed his fingers, and Jay swallowed it to seal the deal.
"Haha, gross." Matt chided, practically flying off of Jay, who laid still, feeling like a shirt with a huge, dark stain. He felt dirtied by this, more than the first time. But simultaneously exhilarated, like when he'd work out for a long time, and begrudgingly tap out. Accomplished, but weak, burning hot and noodle-limbed. He wished his body knew how to cope with that other than by manifesting into a boner, which he hoped more than anything that Matt would remain unaware of. It was just another random one, not related to any of this. It was probably physiological, really. Whatever that meant.
When Matt returned, he had one of the remaining ties in his hand. "You can sit up," it sounded like he was reminding Jay of his rights, "this is going over your eyes."
Jay did sit up, with some effort thanks to the restraints. "You're gonna blindfold me?"
"What the fuck else would that mean? I forget how stupid you are." Matt mumbled derisively, kneeling down to tie it. Jay tried at first to block him with his still-tied hands, but tried to remind himself of the situation. He was having an out of body experience, talking down the animalistic panic and need for agency; lay down, go limp, let it happen. It's Matt, you can trust Matt. Well, you can halfway trust Matt. It's just Matt. If you could trust anyone to blindfold you, it'd have to be Matt. Matt would never really hurt you, he's just playing. This is his game. There's nothing you can do. There's nothing you can do.
Jay brought his hands back down, allowing Matt to go through with his plan. "You're learning! Maybe it's only half of your brain that's melted." He praised backhandedly, tousling his hair after the blindfold was on. "Wait, I've got another idea." Though Jay couldn't see it, he could feel Matt tie his wrist and ankle restraints together, forcing his knees apart, and stripping away any range of motion for Jay's arms. After Matt finished the knot, Jay quickly felt his absence sweep in. Not being able to see or feel Matt was like being stranded in the middle of the ocean with a shark circling his raft. An unseen, but well-known danger.
"This is creepy. I'm like… creeped out."
"By me? You're creeped out by me?"
"No, just-"
"Am I scaring you, Bird?"
"Should I be scared?"
"I sure hope you are. I'd be concerned if you weren't. Are you not?"
"Um…" Jay hesitated. "No." Matt abruptly slapped Jay across the face, which both shocked him and stung like hell.
"Agh, Matt!" Jay hardly got out before Matt slapped him again, on his other cheek, then back and forth, over and over.
"Are you scared now?" Matt checked, leveraging Jay by the throat, his opposite hand pulling at his hair. "Are you? Act scared, act like- act like I'm gonna kill you." He directed, like they were playing out a movie scene Matt had written.
Jay complied, it was easier to get into character when he was blind and roughed up. Less reservations with his heart racing the way it was, too. "Please- Please don't kill me, Matt, I don't wanna die." Jay pleaded, his voice higher in an effort to sound meek.
A maniacal laugh erupted from Matt, and he fervently shook Jay by his hair and neck like a soda can that he intended to make explode. "C'mon, let me hear it." He'd started squeezing Jay's throat, which made it harder to fulfill Matt's request.
"Matt, I… I'm begging you, please don't… don't kill me, please, I'll do anything, just please- I don't wanna die…" Jay sputtered, fighting to push each word through his restricted airway. What was this, really? Matt's fucked up revenge fantasy? Jay's rational thinking was on pause, due to the multitude of stimuli zapping his nervous system. He probably couldn't escape his assigned role if he tried.
"Oh, that's just perfectly pathetic." Matt cooed. "But I already got out all my murder-toys and everything. You can't see it, but there's like a million different knives and scalpels and… hammers, and shit- right next to you. I got all excited to carve you like a pumpkin." Logically, Jay knew they only owned two kitchen knives, and that they were both dirty in the sink. But it was like Matt's scene-setting was bending reality, because he'd gone pale and sick at the prospect, his body quivering. It's Matt, it's just Matt, this is his game, there's nothing you can do. His mantra sounded a lot less reassuring through the new fuzz in Jay's brain.
"Please, Matt, I can- I'll…"
"I can't think of anything that would be as gratifying as killing you. I'm getting- can you feel my goosebumps?" Matt let go of Jay's hair to run his arm against his neck to prove he had them. "There's nothing that would satisfy me as much as your blood just fuckin'- spurting out all over this place! You're so fucked right now, man!"
Maybe it was because of the colorful language Matt was using, violence with sexual parallels. Maybe it was desperation, terror. Maybe it was from the growing problem in his pants. Maybe it was the memory of Matt's "real" favorite polaroid. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, the shock, the character he was playing- where it came from was a mystery Jay couldn't solve. But it burst out of him like vomit, forceful at first, but completely uncontrollable, messy and inarticulate.
"I can suck- I- do you want me to put your- uh…" Jay trailed off, the recollected shame overwhelming his offer. Matt was frozen for a beat with a silence that was deafening.
"...What'd you say?"
"Sorry, I don't know why I said that." Jay backtracked. "We can go back, start from-"
"No, stay in character." Matt insisted gently, likely for his own dissociation from this breach of some unofficial heterosexual contract. "Say that again."
"I can- I mean, if that's on the same level as murder, I'd rather… uh-"
Matt interrupted this rambling with another slap. "I'm gonna KILL you, Jay! C'mon, your life is riding on this!"
A cocktail of shame, pain, confusion and erotica was swirling in Jay's chest. He tightened his fists to try to keep it together. "Will you… fuck- will you let me live if I suck your dick? Is that enough for you?"
"You'd seriously do that?"
"… I don't wanna die, Matt."
"No, no, out of character!" Matt was so unpredictably indecisive, it hurt to always be wrong about what he wanted. "Would you actually suck my dick? Because you know that in real life I'm not gonna kill you, and you'd give me a blowjob cause I pretended I was gonna kill you?"
It was this exact kind of clarification that Jay wasn't ready for, this explicit explanation of what he was okay with, about what he wanted. All his repressed feelings had been spoiled by Matt never really asking permission for anything. "I guess. I dunno."
"Jay."
"I don't know!"
"Well, figure it out because I'm asking you! You can't say you'll suck my dick and then just be like 'I dunno, Matt! Do I wanna suck your dick, do I not wanna suck your dick-'"
"Stop saying 'suck your dick'!"
"YOU said it first! Were you serious or not?!"
"Yes, fine, whatever!" Jay thanked his lucky stars he had the blindfold on, because seeing Matt's face would have made that impossible to say, it was already difficult enough as it was. "I was gonna do it, I thought that was where you were going with it-"
"In the scene?"
"Yes, in the scene!"
"So you wanna do it in character? You want me to keep threatening you?"
"Matt, I have no fucking idea what I want."
"Except that you wanna suck my dick."
"I didn't say I wanted to, I said I would."
"Do you not want to?"
"Shut up. Shut the fuck up."
"Are you gay? Are you gay for me?"
"Oh my god, Matt."
"Jay, you can't get mad at me about this. You'd be asking the same questions! You're not sucking my dick if you don't want to!"
"Matt!"
"I'm serious!"
Jay let out a shaky breath. He wanted to reload a save file where he never said that, or skip this cutscene and get to the part where he can avoid all the coming-to-terms and identifying feelings and just get on with it. It would be a lot easier if he didn't have to admit he wanted it.
"Fine. I want to. I really want to." He resigned.
"In or out of character?"
Jay disregarded his question. "Do you want that too?"
"If I didn't, I would've dropped it by now. In or out?" Insistent.
"Out."
At this, Matt removed the blindfold, his hands lingering on either side of Jay's face. "Is that the only thing you want, or can I… kiss you? Is that weird? That's probably weird, we shouldn't do that."
"Yeah, that's gay." Jay couldn't look Matt in the eye, they strafed like magnets opposing their counterparts. "Let's not do that."
"It's funny that you think kissing is gay but sucking dick isn't." Matt pointed out as he unraveled all the ties except the one around Jay's wrists.
"I don't wanna talk about what's gay and what's not gay. Take off your pants." Jay stammered, trying to cut to the chase.
"Since when are you in charge?" Matt questioned, stepping inside the ring of Jay's arms and rising to his feet so Jay would be tethered to him the whole time. Jay lifted himself up onto his knees, watching Matt pull down his jeans and boxers. The polaroid Matt had previously stuck down his pants fluttered past and onto the floor. "You were probably thinking about this when I took that, eh?"
"I wouldn't know, I don't remember."
"But probably?"
Jay didn't answer, he was hesitant again from his close proximity to Matt's cock. They'd seen each other naked lots of times, but Jay usually averted his eyes from Matt's dick, and he'd definitely never seen it hard. It looked as pink as Matt's lips, and massive- maybe just from the angle, or that Jay had never been this close to a dick before, and couldn't discern if this would actually fit in his mouth at all.
"Hey," Matt tapped the side of Jay's face, "would the blindfold actually help?" It was strange to hear him so… tender. It was apparent that he wanted Jay to feel comfortable, in spite of his relentless efforts to torture him earlier. Ironically, Jay may have felt more comfortable being tortured.
"I think so." He accepted.
Matt took the last tie from his belt loop all the way on the ground, tied a new blindfold around Jay's eyes, then guided his face back to his dick. "Just stick your tongue out, first." Matt directed. "Licking it is gonna be easier."
Jay obliged, his tongue quickly finding its objective. He pulled back at first from the taste, but Matt pushed him forward again, pressing onto his tongue so he could feel it better. It was hard not to just start fucking Jay's throat and cum immediately, but he wanted this to go well, he didn't want Jay to get all flighty and change his mind, or choke and throw up everywhere. Maybe another time. Once he could tell Jay was more adjusted, Matt inched his cock further into his mouth.
"Close your lips," he instructed, "don't put your teeth on it, okay? 'Cause if you bite my penis off, I'm gonna kill you for real." Jay couldn't answer, but started sucking- though it was way too hard, making Matt tense up. "Easy, easy, Bird- too much!" He critiqued, and Jay applied his input immediately, sucking softer, with his tongue still servicing the bottom. "Oh-kay, much better," he praised, running his hands through Jay's hair, "you look good like this too. Like a pornstar. I guess, not like a dude pornstar. Not that you look like a girl, but- like- you know what I'm saying?"
Jay furrowed his brow, but sort of hummed into Matt's dick.
"Okay, uh… you look hot, but not handsome. I mean, you are handsome I guess, but what I mean is that you look like I could do some fucked up shit to you. That sounds wrong. You look like you're… mine? Like you're where you're supposed to be, and- uh…" Jay was improving, and it was getting harder to speak clearly, and to keep his hips from bucking into Jay's throat. "Whatever, forget it, just- keep sucking me off, okay? You're really- Oh, fuck, I'm-"
It was embarrassing for Matt to finish so fast, but he felt fortunate that Jay probably wouldn't pay that any attention, as he'd definitely feel more humiliated being on his end. Without a single thought in his brain, Matt grabbed the back of Jay's head and pushed farther in than he meant to, thrusting in and out of Jay's throat despite his struggling, but eventually Jay managed to pull off, sending about half of Matt's load onto his face and into his hair. Jay swallowed what hadn't already sprayed down his throat, painted his face or dribbled down his chin, and Matt cautiously removed the blindfold from his eyes.
"Sorry, sorry." Matt offered through laughter, trying to wipe his cum off of his face. Jay would've swatted him away, but with his wrists still stuck, he could only pull his face backward.
"Don't touch me," He demanded, "and untie me."
"You don't wanna play anymore?" Matt teased, poking a finger at Jay's face to bother him. "This has given me a lot to work with next time I win."
"Untie me, Matt!" Jay repeated. He was done with this game, having reached his capacity of being degraded and in desperate need of a shower. Matt's fluids were all over him, and he smelled like his toothbrush. Matt begrudgingly freed his wrists, and without another word, Jay stormed upstairs and started running the shower. Matt snickered, finding the polaroid where it landed earlier and laughing harder. He returned it to its place within Treasure Island, took a moment to peek at his actual favorite, then shut the book again.