Work Text:
It’s Tuesday, 10:41 PM Eastern Standard Time, and Jay McCarrol is downloading Grindr.
Jay McCarrol is perhaps the most famous Canadian musician currently living, and certainly the most famous one currently touring. He wrote “Never Come Down”. He is also, as far as the public is aware of, straight.*
* There is a vocal minority of his fanbase that believes him to be closeted. This group–called “Jaylors” derisively, for internet etymology reasons too stupid to explain to the layman–thinks that he’s sending coded messages through his songs revealing the true nature of his sexuality. Jay McCarrol has not written his own songs since 2016.
Jay McCarrol has not had a relationship with anyone, man nor woman, in all of his time in the spotlight. Sometimes he’s asked about it in interviews. Before his team had started preparing and writing his answers for him ahead of time, he would go “Uh, uh, uh-” and the interviewer would pity him and move on; or, sometimes he would get brave and brag about all the groupies following him from city to city in a way where it was entirely unclear who he wanted to be jealous of it, and what part they were supposed to be jealous of, at which point the interviewer would move on.†
† People had thought his spacing out and fumbling to articulate a full sentence was cute on occasion, but during every interview (his manager had said) it was starting to look like he had a problem. If you keep staring up at the ceiling with your mouth open trying to think of an answer, it looks like you’re stupid (his manager had said), and you’re not stupid right?
No interviewer had ever asked him if he was gay, aside from one occasion–a radio interview extremely early on in his career–where the host was clearly joking. He froze up, mouth agape, and was noticeably miffed for the rest of the interview. Jay McCarrol has been called homophobic for much less, and he’s thankful that this interview is now considered lost media.
After his team started feeding him answers things got much smoother. An interview would ask about his relationship status and
JM: “I haven’t been seeing anyone recently, I haven’t heard about any of the rumors being spread around. I’m really focused on the [album/tour/movie I have an insignificant cameo in], and I think if I tried to add anyone into that equation I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Like, it’s to the point where I’d have to be scheduling dates with them [laughs; not too forced]. Really, right now, my main priority is my work and my fans. That’s probably, like, the longest relationship I’ve ever been in, isn’t that crazy?”
which tested well and seemed to satisfy most interviewers who heard it. His new personality, as it had been written for him (same as his songs), was much more amicable and casual. He was quirky, sure, but not any more than other musical geniuses in the same caliber. He came across committed to his work in a way that left him slightly out of touch with reality, though, of course not in a completely unpalatable way. No more was he aloof, quick to anger, or–let’s face it–stupid; he was simply eccentric, and people were receptive to eccentric. He would say nightmares and ghosts inspired his most popular songs, and the public hailed and continues to hail him as an uncompromising genius, possibly even more so due to his unwillingness to elaborate on it.
Jay McCarrol has not had a relationship with anyone, man nor woman, partly because he does not know how to behave without a script. He could be eccentric while repeating other people’s words, but without other people who understood him–his tone–he came across as, well, aloof, quick to anger, and stupid. This version of him (regarded in his mind somewhat unconsciously as “The Old Him”) did not test well, and certainly did not satisfy anyone. He understands this, perhaps just as well as his team understands him. His life runs at such an efficient pace now–and for that he is thankful–it’s hard to believe he ever did anything without other people’s say so. Other people write everything he says, sings, and plays; other people drag him to and from interviews, photoshoots, and concerts; other people dress him, decide what he should eat, and determine when and for how long he should be outside his house.
On one occasion, he had attempted to hit on one of these people. A woman–a redhead, no one had told him her name–who was adjusting his jacket and scarf to look “sophisticated, yet grunge”. He had asked her
JM: “Are you doing anything after this? I’m not. Do you wanna get drinks after this?”
RH: [laughs; definitely too forced]
JM: “Dinner?”
RH: [gives a soul crushing look of pity]. [continuing to adjust Jay McCarrol’s jacket] “So, from this angle the scarf would sort of blend into the jacket, which, depending on how they’re adjusting the colors, should make for a cool graphic effect.” [does not attempt to notify anyone of this interaction, but stops working for Jay McCarrol].
and that was the last time he had consciously, and, with purpose, tried to ask someone out. He extrapolated from this one interaction that there were simply too many factors at play if he were to ever get with anyone. Like many of his big picture plans, they should be handled by the people who actually know what they’re doing.‡
‡ His team had talked about a fake relationship before in a series of lengthy meetings. Some up-and-coming starlet that isn’t in the industry anymore, and so they had to have dodged a bullet with that. It was a surprisingly robust operation, much more robust than he would’ve imagined something like this to be. There were public appearances that the public had to be tipped off to, and appearances the public didn’t have to be tipped off to; songs that were clearly about her and songs that were clearly about him; borrowed shirts that he isn’t sure he ever actually wore, and fake hickeys, which he thought was kind of ridiculous. The starlet’s team ended up opting out, a wound his team had to lick for a while. Jay McCarrol was 27 at the time and she was 25, and they thought it’d be a bad look for both of them.
Jay McCarrol, at 41 years old, is concretely aware that no one will love him as he is, despite millions of fans who want nothing more than to be with him. They love Jay McCarrol, but what happens when he needs an attendant in his ear whispering to him to say he loves them back? What happens when he needs to be positioned just so for a kiss because to do it on his own would somehow result in a restraining order. Jay McCarrol is also, at this current moment (Tuesday, Aug. 25th, 2024 10:46 PM EST), immeasurably horny, and Grindr has just finished installing.
Jay McCarrol isn’t sure if his team is aware of everything that gets onto and/or is sent from his phone, but it wouldn’t surprise him. Jay McCarrol isn’t sure if he’s attracted to men, but this also wouldn’t surprise him. Both of these things are inconsequential to him right now, as important things often are when he’s immeasurably horny.§
§ In truth, it makes Jay McCarrol feel powerful to go behind his team’s back and make such a decision; more than that, a decision that could completely upheave his entire carrer–a bad decision, one could say. This exertion of control over his own life ultimately outweighed the need to answer the question of whether or not he was gay and therefore allowed to use the app. Later on, he may return to the status quo, guilt and worry coming off of him in fumes as he ultimately realizes the gravity of what he did, but for now, he was in charge.
To sign up for Grindr, one has to use their email, Facebook, or Apple ID and then set up a password and confirm your date of birth. Jay McCarrol makes the very smart decision not to use his professional email to solicit gay sex (he isn’t actually sure what his business email is off the top of his head, he isn’t allowed to touch anything that gets set to it), and instead opts for an old one he can’t for the life of him figure out how he remembers so clearly. He sets his date of birth accurately, as, for that, he has no reason to lie.
There is a surprising amount of information that needs to be filled out for a Grindr profile, and Jay McCarrol does not think to skimp over any field. If they asked it of him, then it must be important; they’re the experts here, not him. He fills it out thusly:
J.‖ 41
First time here. Looking for sex. I play piano.¶
Height: 188 cm
Weight: 81 kg
Ethnicity: White
Body Type: Average**
Gender: Cis Man
Pronouns: He/Him/His
Position: Versatile††
Relationship Status: Single
Tribes: Discreet‡‡
Looking For: Hookups, Right Now§§
Meet At: Your Place, Bar‖‖
Accepts NSFW Pics: Yes Please
‖ Any pseudonym he could think of did not feel appropriate, and also he could not think of a pseudonym.
¶ Jay McCarrol has no idea how much people expect from these biographies, nor does he want to give himself away too much. As much as he liked the idea of sneaking behind his team’s back and creating this account, Jay McCarrol is smart enough to know that if people recognize him on here, he’s done for, no matter how much his team will attempt to lean into the Gay Pride angle of it. The information he decides on seemed like the most pertinent to relay, and the most concrete facts about himself as a person that he knows to be true at this current moment in time.
** Jay McCarrol does not have a six-pack, nor is he shredded. There was a point in time where his team had encouraged him to diet and exercise to an excessive degree, but his team have, in his older age, let up slightly, though he’s still forbidden from eating any of the food he actually wants to partake in. This perception of Jay McCarrol as a hunk is perpetuated by several fashion and underwear ads that are still in circulation that show his body as it was 5-15 years ago. In the present day, Jay McCarrol’s six-pack has softened into a comfortable, but not disgusting paunch. His team still makes sure to cover it the best they can with suit jackets and loose fitting shirts. “Average” seems an appropriate descriptor to him.
†† Jay McCarrol has to look up what these words mean. He had not given special consideration to what it would be like to have sex with a man, and instead treated it like he had treated sex with women, which is to say, of course he believed he would top. As he starts to input this, he gets self conscious and wonders if more people will pass him over if he doesn’t make himself the most accommodating to everyone. In a moment, he gets even more self conscious and wonders if “topping” entails being in charge of all aspects of the relationship. When he “topped” girls–when he was their boyfriend who they required things of–that was always his least favorite part, and he can’t imagine doing it as he is now. “Versatile” seems acceptable.
‡‡ Jay McCarrol has to look up what these words mean as well. He rules out pretty quickly that he’s not a “Bear”, “Cub”, or a “Jock”. He remembers some people online calling him “Daddy”, and so that too gets nixed for the sake of anonymity. He waffles a bit on whether he classifies as a “Twink”, but decides against it upon butting up against some arguments on Reddit about “Twink Death” and realizes that if any version of him was a “Twink” then he was definitely totally dead. “Discreet” seems appropriate, as this is a very secretive operation.
§§ Jay McCarrol is perfectly aware of how desperate and cloying this sounds, and cringes as he sees it staring back at him on his profile. In any other circumstance, perhaps he’d like to just talk, be friends, or even try for romance. But he feels, at this moment, motivated by id in a way he usually does not find himself possessed by. He is very much a dog without a leash in this regard. Eventually, his owners will come running after him and demand of him a shorter leash and tighter collar, and so he is, too, perfectly aware that he must make the most of what he has as quickly as possible.
‖‖ The idea of bringing someone back to his mansion strikes him as tacky.
Jay McCarrol thinks very hard about what an appropriate profile picture would be. He takes a couple selfies before remembering that that wouldn’t be a good idea, and deletes them off of his phone one by one. He takes a particularly artsy photo of his hand just barely touching the keys of his piano to show he wasn’t lying in his bio, and then gets paranoid that someone could trace this photo back to a nearly identical one he had taken for Instagram about a month ago; he deletes this image too. He stares at himself in the mirror for a while, phone in one hand and shirt in the other to show off his body, but the sight of his tummy gets him depressed. He opts for not choosing a profile picture at all, and hopes people will get that he’s normal.
Jay McCarrol spends the next 15 minutes scrolling through Grindr. He does so noiselessly, with a focus usually reserved for bomb defusal. Even the choices here feel all too overwhelming to him: men’s faces, abs, and bulges litter his screen and make him dizzy. He does not click on any one of them. It is enough to know their names, bodies, and location; to know anything else, let alone their preferred position, would’ve sent him into shock.
Jay McCarrol is not actually aware of what his “type” is. When he dated women, a lifetime ago, he was not particularly picky. It could be argued that none of them stayed for long enough to make him develop a type, but that’s hearsay and thus can’t be recounted here. He has not been interested in (or, as the case may be, humoring that he’s interested in) men long enough to know if he falls into the proverbial “No fats, no femmes” camp, or if he’s as nondiscriminating as he was when it came to the fairer sex.
As he doomscrolls through men, he tries to imagine him interacting with each of them he sees, one after the other, to see if he finds any group of them more appealing than another. While he finds it all enjoyable to look at and finds himself shuffling his legs awkwardly the more he tries to bore a hole in these men's bodies with his eyes, Jay McCarrol finds that his mind simply cannot produce a scenario past interacting with them–there is a mental blockade that appears the moment he tries to fuck, touch, or even say hello to them. On occasion, he looks over his shoulder despite currently leaning against his bed’s headboard. He is prepared to be punished, or bait-and-switched the moment he lets his guard down to successfully be gay. Jay McCarrol is prepared to call this attempted rebellion a wash and jerk off to his own imagination–too embarrassed to even retreat with his cock between his legs to straight porn, and instead settling for a vague, aphantasiac recollection of a woman.
At 11:01 PM EST, as he is about to close the app, Jay McCarrol receives his first Grindr message. The display name is Jon, and Jay clues in pretty quickly that that’s his name. It reads
Jon: “piano, eh?”¶¶
¶¶ Here, at the end of his message, Jon has attached a piano emoji.
Jay McCarrol stares at this for a long time; minutes pass, in fact. It is not incorrect to say he is paralyzed with fear at it. This message and, more to the point, this scenario is not a place to deploy one of his canned responses, even if the message itself has more in common with an interview question than he would’ve expected. He did not expect to get this far. He throws a glance over to Jon’s profile picture, depicted in their direct messages as a stunning five pixel wide image of what Jay McCarrol assumes is Jon’s torso, but it’s too small to tell. This throws him off more, and forces him to recalibrate for longer.
Jay McCarrol attempts to think back to a time where he was more conversational, and he has to believe such a time existed, if not for anything else, then for his own peace of mind. What would that version of him–The Old Him–say to this?
These breaks between messages will come up frequently, especially on Jay McCarrol’s end. Unless absolutely necessary, they will be edited out for brevity.
J.: “Yes .”
J.: [image.jpg]***
*** This is an image of the piano Jay McCarrol has in his bedroom. It is much more modest than the one he has in his dedicated piano room (one of the only rooms in his mansion he visits with any sort of frequency), it’s really more of a keyboard, but it’s useful in a pinch if ever he needs to record another melody he heard in a dream. It is important to note that no part of Jay McCarrol is in this photo, and it is completely indistinguishable from a photo of a piano that someone could’ve taken from the internet.
Jon: “fuck yeah, dude”
Jon: “you know any koji kondo? OoT?”
Jay McCarrol does, of course. The question brings him back to many an interview where he’s been asked about his hobbies and pastimes. The management approved answer has always been
JM: “Oh, well I’ve always been focused on music for as long as I can remember. I used to be such a nerd, though. I would play my N64 all the time. I still do, when I get the chance.”
and they usually leave it at that. There’s no mention of any favorite games (as that would be too niche and alienating), nor nights bleeding into early mornings trying to perfect his Goldeneye speedrun, nor his mother chastising him for allowing his nights to bleed into early mornings. There is never a need for Jay McCarrol to dive deeper into his life and likes than what is absolutely necessary. Here, though, he perks up at such a direct, specific question. It’s not unlike a command or an explicit order, better yet, it’s one he can fulfill dutifully.
J.: “Yes .”
J.: “And mario 64 too , but I played zelda more”
Jon: “actually awesome”
J.: “And mk64 .”
Jon: “i WISH i could play video game stuff just off the dome ykn. like have that in my back pocket”
Jon: “but im really bad at playing by ear and i cant read sheet music”
J.: “Do you play piano too ?”
Jon: “and my band’s full of shit and wouldn't indulge me anyway so it wouldn’t sound the same even if i was good”
Jon: “drums”
To this, Jay perks up, even typing an
J.: “Oh”
in response. It’s at this point he decides to navigate to Jon’s profile, no longer content to leave his mental image of the guy at a five pixel wide stomach shot. There is surprisingly not much more to glean from his profile than from Jay McCarrol’s own. Plastered front and center like a magazine cover, there is simply his name, and the aforementioned stomach shot.†††
††† Rendered in much higher resolution, of course. Jay McCarrol believes “brick shithouse” would be the most apt term to use here. Jon is wide and strong and soft. In the main photo presented, thick biceps strain against his shirt sleeves while the rest of the shirt is opened in a manner not unlike a curtain unveiling the grand prize on a game show (of which Jay McCarrol has hosted several). Though they’re around the same age, Jon is much more defined than Jay McCarrol is at present. It’s accurate to say they’ve both “settled”, though where Jay McCarrol’s muscles have all but melted into a soft stomach, Jon’s belly appears like it could switch on a dime between being accommodating to being unrelenting. Tantalizing, Jon’s chest hangs out heavy and full, almost casting a shadow where his ribs meet his stomach. This canvas, pink and smooth, is littered with moles and dots and, perplexing, Jay wonders what’d be like to bite a particularly big one on his left pec, nearer to his clavicle. Cartoonishly, he imagines that his teeth would puncture it and cause it to pop.
and a brief biography reading
CHILL GUY
looking for something casual. have been fucked twice
twinks and otters contact me (MORE INFO IN DM, SERIOUS DMS ONLY)
can host
which is deeply unhelpful in demystifying who Jon is. Jay McCarrol likes “chill” and “casual”, though. “Chill” (or “CHILL”, as the case may be) and “casual” is definitely the energy he needs here.
In the midst of this, Jon has sent him more messages, beginning from the top with
Jon: “took it up semirecently and just kept going like what else is there to do”
Jon: “if im gonna learn an instrument itll be the one where i get to beat the shit out of something over and over again”
Jon: “and then even if im bad it’s still a statement”
Jon: “like i drop one of my sticks and oops its math rock now”
Jon: “that actually doesnt sound bad to try out that could be something woah”
Jon: “you ever listen to american football j?”
J.: “No ”
Jon: “the band i mean”
J.: “Drums are a good instrument . I wish I got to play drums more”
J.: “But I’m only really good at piano .”
Jon: “yeah works out for me on here too”
Jon: “drummer arms”‡‡‡
‡‡‡ Here, Jon has attached a flexing emoji, as well as a smirking one.
Jay McCarrol wonders if that’s flirting meant for him specifically, or instead a general boast about his performance on the app. They are very nice arms, he has a very nice body–this has been established. Jay is not consciously aware that he’s past the interacting stage of the fantasy. He has moved onto wanting to touch, bite, and, yes, say things to this Jon; or, more accurately, have this Jon say things to him, very specific things, in fact. Still, Jay McCarrol knows that it’s not good to assume things, especially in your favor, a scheduled tweet regarding a Grammy that he absolutely didn’t win taught him and his team that. He goes for the more general response of
J.: “They are very nice arms”
Jon: “could definitely lift you up”
Jon: “i bench 81 no PROBLEM”
which is a suggestion that makes Jay’s head spin. He has not given serious thought to what it’d be like to be held by another man; to dignify the idea of another man hoisting him up like a bag of groceries is something that makes his tummy turn like a school girl being asked out to prom. Of course, this is not something that Jay McCarrol would like to let Jon onto for fear of coming on too strong. He thinks carefully about another crowdpleasing retort to send before being hit with
Jon: “you should send a pic i have no fucking clue what you look like”
Jon: “unless youre ugly”
Jon: “then we can stop messaging”
Jon: “that was a joke i dont care if ur ugly”§§§
§§§ About five minutes passed between this message and the previous one
Jon: “im probably not much better, if that gets you off”
Jon: “which is fine if it does idc”
Jon: “but you should tell me if you’re jerking off to me being hot or me being ugly, it’s like the cops you have to tell me.”
J.: [image.jpg]‖‖‖
‖‖‖ Jay McCarrol rushed to take this photo immediately after Jon’s initial request for one. There is, of course, a mirror in his bedroom, but the issue was less about getting to a location he could take a photo in, and more about taking a photo that looked acceptable. With Jon’s photo fresh in his mind, he felt self conscious about every aspect of his appearance in a way he scarcely ever was. Jay McCarrol was voted Sexiest Man Alive in 2014 and in 2019, and yet the lights in his room felt too artificial and imposing, his phone camera too hackneyed; even his shirt, silken and obviously very expensive felt too gaudy in this circumstance. Him possibly getting recognized from a shirtless image of himself (as there have been many on his social media, billboards, and magazine covers) hadn’t so much as crossed his mind before he had taken several dozen of them, all with varying degrees of ok-ness.
The final product–the one he has just sent–is not too bad for the tail end of a frantic panicjob. His shirt is held up tastefully just enough to let one pec show. For a brief moment, he considered holding it between his teeth, thinking that’d be appealing in certain sense, but he’s always careful about not letting his “fucked up teeth”, as his manager and some internet personalities would say, present themselves. That, and he’d hate having to explain to whoever woke him up in the morning why the hem of shirt was soaked in spit. The hair peppering his chest and stomach is salt and peppered in and of itself. He is at first concerned about the way his love handles and belly hang over his briefs noticeably, but he hopes that his bulge–now, at the excitement of a demand like this in addition to following through with it, burgeoning into semi status–distracts Jon. He doesn’t consider himself sizable, or large, truly he doesn’t consider himself much of anything, but a penis is a penis, or he hopes so at least. It may not go without saying, but Jay McCarrol is careful not to show his face.
J.: "You're not ugly”
J.: “I think you look quite nice actually from your picture . ”
Jon: “JESUS”
J.: “What”
Jon: “WHY do you have nothing on your profile”
Jon: “i see why i ahd to beg for this”
J.: “Is that good or bad ?”
J.: “Or did you like it?”
Jon: “yes obviously i did”
Jon: “it’s like harrison ford silver fox ass up in my phone
Jon: “fucking a man.”
Jon: god that looks stupidtyped out all lowercase”
J.: “You think I look like Harrison ford ?”
Jon: “yeah silver fox ass”
Jon: “ass as a descriptor but i also assume your ass follows suit”
Jon: “i guess it usually does”
J.: “Thank you.”
J.: “That’s nice .”
Jon: “youve got crazy fucking hands”
Jon: “good hands. piano hands”
J.: “Ive heard that a lot actually”
J.: “From people.”¶¶¶
¶¶¶ Jay McCarrol is careful not to say his manager, his team, or his fans, for all of whom his hands are a pretty hot topic. He is continuously amazed at how many people will salivate in the comments when a picture he posts just happens to feature his hands prominently, or how many fans will attempt to grab his hands during meet and greets in an attempt to interlock their fingers or compare the size of them against their own. Of the public gropings Jay McCarrol has experienced, his team consider these pretty tame and so they are allowed to continue happening.
Jon: “yeah?”
Jon: “you’ve done anything with these hands?”
J.: “Piano”
Jon: “for these ‘people’”
Jon: “ok well fucking obviously i meant like jerking them off or fingering them”
J.: “Sorry”
J.: “Not recently.”****
**** Jay is mostly referring to girlfriends of days past. He’d gotten many requests to fingerfuck girls, mainly due to the belief that playing piano really did make him better at it. It could be considered a self fulfilling prophecy in a way, because he had received no real complaints during this period, and in fact had gotten glowing praise in the form of “Yes, yes. God, yes. More!” which is more than he could say of Pitchfork’s view of him currently. If it counted here, then a fling or two had even requested they try anal fingering, which Jay had considered a success, even if it was a rarity. Jay has tried (and he won’t admit this, of course, but it is being recorded here for the sake of transparency), once or twice, to finger himself. Once in 2008 while in his apocryphal nightmare living situation, between girlfriends and drunk out of his mind to the point where any kind of new, novel touch would excite him, and partially to get loud enough to piss off his roommate; and another in 2013, fully sober and deeply lonely, having just bought his mansion and wanting to test the privacy and isolation the large space allowed. Jay McCarrol has not yet jerked anyone off.
Jon: “fuccccckkkk mysterious ok”
J.: “I havent jerked anyone off though,”
Jon: “oh wait wow”
Jon: “am i the first guy youve been with ?”
Jon: “hjs are like day one stuff i think, but maybe youre just weird”
J.: “Yes, you’re the first… ”
Jon: “wow ok haha”
J.: “Is that ok”
J.: “Should I come back later?”
Jon: “no what the fuck thats fine”
Jon: “thats great actually”
J.: “Oh”
J.: “Ok”
J.: “Thank you.”
Jon: “lots of assholes on here take it from me”
Jon: “id make sure to have your first time be good”
Jon: “*first time with a guy”
J.: “I’d like that. <3”
Jon: “yeah? what else would you like?”
J.: “What do you usually do?”
Jon: “me personally?”
Jon: “or are you asking me to take the lead”
J.: “Either.”††††
†††† Jay had typed out “The second one .” before deleting it and replacing it with this.
Jon: “im not gonna ghost you if it turns out you like piss or something”
Jon: “as a heads up”
Jon: “but hmmmmmm……”
Jon: “i could seriously lift you up and throw you around is the thing about it”
Jon: “you like that? You get girls doing that to you?”
Jay thinks very hard about a lot of things in quick succession. They are, in order
- He does think he would like that. He would like that very much.
- As far as sex he’s had in the past, it’s been shockingly tame. A process of meet girl > make out > fingering/missionary/begrudging cunnilingus > sleep > never see again, but never for lack of trying. The times he’s tried to get more adventurous than that have been unmitigated disasters, with girls running out crying on him, and he’s had to concede that he’s the type of guy for whom sex is an action and not a state of being. While, to many getting picked up and thrown around like errant luggage would be just another Tuesday, to Jay McCarrol it is enticingly taboo. Especially in a circumstance like this, where the entire act of being in it is taboo for him to begin with.
- There is a not insignificant part of him that considers it so appealing because he’s, well, Jay McCarrol. This is not lost on him. Half of his fanbase would kill to manhandle him in such a way and the other half would kill the first half for daring to even think about doing so. Up until this point, concealing his identity had been a necessity; now, it’s part of the fantasy: someone who could not care less about Jay McCarrol as a concept and is not precious with him getting to meet him face to face. His attractiveness (or perhaps, simply, the inherent belief that he should be handled in such a manner) standing on its own merit, instead of Jay McCarrol’s.
- The image of Jon’s biceps and hands have not faded from Jay’s mind. Partly because his icon is leering at him from behind his display name, but mostly because he thinks they really are spectacular. Jay McCarrol is not usually particularly fond of people touching him, but he honestly, genuinely believes and wants to make an exception for Jon.
- He wants Jon to know he thinks that he would like that very much.
J.: “I think I would”
J.: “I haven’t had anyone do that to me, but I would.”
J.: “You look very strong”
Jon: “AM very strong we’ve been over this”
Jon: “right I said that thing about picking you up before i even saw you. whore right”
J.: “I liked it then too.”
Jon: “before i saw you seriously got handles BUILT. IN.”
Jon: “thats why they call em that. i am to asume”
Jon: “youre pickupable. Your pickupability”
J.: “That’s a good word for it”
J.: “I think you’re very bite able. I’ve been thinking about that.”
J.: “Is that something we can do also”
Jon: “absolutely”‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡ There is, to Jay, a noticeable, but not worrying gap between this message and the previous one.
Jon: “that could be fun”
Jon: “grab ahold of you, trying to get you on the bed and you try to fight back”
Jon: “and BAM give me a big chomp right on the neck”
J.: “Fight back?”
Jon: “well not actually”
Jon: “i mean like from a doylist perspective obviously we want to have sex with each other for real. i hope.”
Jon: “i mean you’re still texting me so like duh”
Jon: “but also in the actual thick of it you’d wanna have sex with me but maybe i’m being too aggressive and pushy so it’s like... calm down right.”
Jon: “or maybe cause it’s your first time with a guy youre scared cause it’s like”
Jon: “WOAH i have no idea who this guy is and he’s rubbing up on me even though i like women! this is seriously awakening something in me crazy style. what!
Jon: “or WOAH i’ve known this guy for so long, i thought i could trust him not to fuck me (because i like women), but he’s totally fucking me! what the fuck! this is also seriously awakening something in me crazy style. i gotta get him off (me)”
Jon: “whatever feels the most natural”
J.: “Okay.”
J.: “I can do that.”
Jon: “or I guess we don’t even have to do either it could just be me throwing you around and you biting me it doesn’t have to be a whole thing”
Jon: “oh”
Jon: “awesome.”
J.: “It’s like acting I can act”
Jon: “thats. true.”
J.: “But I do want to have sex with you?”
J.: “I like it eventually? In character.”
Jon: “i mean that’s the dream yes. but we’ll get there.”
Jon: “for now you’re the type of guy to bite me when i touch you”
J.: “Only when you pick me up and move me.”
J.: “I don’t actually like that normally. So that’s true to life”
Jon: “why’d you tell me that i’d wanna be grabbing you all the time now”
Jon: “grabbing you just to piss you off and then i get handsy”
J.: “Do I know you? In this scenario?”
Jon: “if u want to. like i said whatever feels most natural”
J.: “That one feels natural.”
J.: “Like the one you talked about before”
Jon: “good. i like that one too”
Jon: “so we know each other, and im comfortable enough to be touching you freely”
Jon: “toooooo comfortable?”
J.: Too comfortable.”
Jon: “way too comfortable.”
Jon: “howre you feeling when i try to grab you again? like seriously try to get ahold of you. Or im grabbing your thigh or some shit”
Jon: “and like i know youre not into this too.but i still do it”
J.: “I’d feel angry. Confused?”
J.: “Right?”
Jon: “i mean yes allegedly . and?”
J.: “And I’d tell you to fuck off and leave me alone.”
J.: “In character.”
Jon: “would you hit me?”
J.: “I’d smack you away I think.”
Jon: “and it’d be fucking nothing to me”
Jon: “youre taller but i’m stronger. i’d probably laugh and just grab you again”
J.: “I’d try to hit you again.”
Jon: “i’d slam you against the wall.”
J.: “That fast?”
Jon: “yeah duh”
J.: “Wow.”
J.: “I’d tell you to let me go, and I’d say you can’t be treating me like this.”
J.: “You’re my friend.”
J.: “Then I’d probably btieyou.”§§§§
§§§§ At this point, Jay starts humping his pillow. This is not an activity he indulges in often, as, on silk and especially on dark blue silk, cum stains are incredibly noticeable. He doesn’t want to be chided by his team like a teenager that just learned that there are naked people for free on the internet, but, like a teenager, he feels he just can’t help himself. This is a feeling he wants to chase until its natural conclusion, and then some. It is appealing to him in a way he doesn’t feel like addressing, and can’t at this current moment. For clarity, there is a noticeable lag in Jay’s messages after this point that will not be conveyed going forward.
Jon: “friends, huh?”
Jon: “that’s sweet”
Jon: “you would bite hard?”
J.: “Am I allowed to hurt you?”
J.: “I kinda don’t want to hurt you?”
Jon: “you wouldn’t hurt someone who disrespects your boundaries?”
Jon: “and laughs in your face? And slams you against the wall?”
Jon: “and if i laughed again when you tried to bite me?”
Jon: “like jesus who does this guy think he is, he’s barely making a dent in me. like he isn’t gonna be trapped in my arms forever. like he won’t be my personal bitch for years after this”
Jon: “you wouldn’t hurt that guy?”
J.: “I would.”
J.: “I bite youhard”
Jon: “there we go”
J.: “But I think I’m also hard in the scene”
J.: “I’m hard now”
Jon: “oh yeah me too”
Jon: “how big are you?”
Jon: “send a pic now”
J.: [image.jpg]‖‖‖‖
‖‖‖‖ This is an image of Jay’s penis after being extricated from the silk handjob it was being given just moments before. It is at full attention and leaking. Moments after taking it, Jay continues this silken assault on it, now bare against the material.
Jon: “very nice. 10/10”
Jon: [image.jpg]¶¶¶¶
¶¶¶¶ This is an image of Jon’s penis, assuming that he did not get an unrelated photo of a penis online, which Jay does not consider. It is, if the picture is to be trusted, very large. Blonde pubes curl around its base, so light that they’re nearly invisible. Jon’s hand is wrapped around it, thumbing against a bead of precum that’s dribbled down its length.
J.: “I likethat”
Jon: “why thank you”
J.: “I woudltyrind jerk you off ”
J.: “Still biting”
Jon: “what a balancing act”
J.: “Wanna”
Jon: “but i thought you haaaaaated me”
J.: “I still do I think”
J.: “But it feels good “
J.: “*Would feel”
J.: “And you’re strong and iwanna make you feel good”
J.: “Have to”
Jon: “have to?”
J.: “Bc you’re doing all this for me .”
J.: “Or becaus we’ve known each other for so long”
Jon: “have to yeah”
Jon: “well thats sweet”
Jon: “quick turnaround, eh? from trying to beat the shit out of me into being my bitch”
Jon: “are you leaving marks?”
J.: “Whae”
Jon: “biting”
J.: “Yes”
J.: “Next to ur big dot upt here”
J.: “I like it ”
Jon: “id like that too”
Jon: “and then everytime you see me after you can look at it and remember this”
Jon: “that that was ur big contribution to try and stop me and we still fucked”
Jon: “also im pulling you off the wall and slamming you on the bed”
Jon: “or couch. We never established where we were”
J.: “Couch”
Jon: “perfect”
Jon: “after pulling u off like a suction cup”
Jon: “like those sailors and they get octopuses stuck to their face”
Jon: “octopi. you ever see those? Theres like articles. maybe videos”
Jon: “like a damn facehugger its fucked”
J.: “We’re On thecouch”
Jon: “yeah”
J.: “And what”
Jon: “hm”
Jon: “so i pried you off me”
Jon: “my fingers are probably in your mouth”
Jon: “holding it open and running on your teeth”
J.: “I havebad teeth”
Jon: “thats fine i dont care”
Jon: “press my fingers on your canines”
Jon: “make you suck on them”
J.: “That’s good”
J.: “Haven’t done that before”
J.: “Made girls do that but not like this”
Jon: “see thats another layer to it”
Jon: “for all the ‘i like women and i hate you’ talk”
Jon: “i get to treat you like youve treated every ex and one night stand of yours”
Jon: “and its much better on this end right?”
J.: “Y .”*****
***** Jay cums here, thick and white across his pillow and bedsheets. He does not care about how loud he is (very), nor does he make any effort to move in an attempt to clean himself off. He does not want to leave his phone for even a second. The notification sound rings in his ears, half a dizzy, cum-brained delusion as he thinks back to Jon’s messages, and half reality because the man is not relenting. There is a moment where Jay stops responding, heaving and sweating in a way he only would after exorcising some real shit, but he knows he can’t–shouldn’t–stay away for long, even if he wanted to.
Jon: “grabbing your hips and waist and shit while fucking your mouth”
Jon: “copping a feel even. every feel that can be copped”
Jon: “and you’re moaning like a whore too”
J.: “I am.”
J.: “And would be .”
Jon: “ha.”
Jon: “you wouldn’t be biting me anymore though right”
Jon: “maybe at the beginning”
J.: “No ”
Jon: “but youd calm down”
Jon: “cause ive tamed you”
J.: “Because Iknow I really really like it”
J.: “Figured it out”
Jon: “riiight switch flipped in your little brain”
Jon: “flipped off”
Jon: “that i know what im doing. got it handled baby”
Jon: “i know what you really want”
J.: “It’s this”
Jon: “mhm.”
Jon: “a girl ever open you up?”
Jon: “your ass i mean”
Jon: “or you ever reach back there”
J.: “No..”
Jon: “even better”
Jon: “so i take those fingers out of that slutty mouth.”
Jon: “and youre humping crazy right now i bet”
J.: “I would be.”
J.: “You havent been touching my penis”
J.: “I was .With you”
Jon: “you getting bratty on me?”
J.: “I will be”
J.: “Even if I love you now”
Jon: “‘love’ is crazy”
J.: “Sory”
Jon: “no it’s good. Thats right”†††††
††††† Jay starts humping his pillow again here–sensative as he is foolhardy–previous emissions still sticky on his skin.
Jon: “so yeah i havent been touching you whaddya gonna do about it”
Jon: “you gonna get angry or you gonna trust i know what im doing. i thought we were passed this”
J.: “I trust you.”
J.: “But Ialso get angry”
J.: “I’m trying to grab att you”
Jon: “yeah thatll do it”
J.: “It’s the least you could do”
J.: “After starting this”
Jon: “so you want me to finish you?”
J.: “Yes”
J.: “But I trsut you. Just getting angry for show”
J.: “Somethignto do”
Jon: “perfect”
Jon: “anyway. fingers. outta that mouth.”
Jon: “actually i dont know why youd even be complaining. youve probably cum alreayy”
Jon: “maybe irl. Old ass man”
Jon: “cute. flattering even.”
J.: “Youre making that up”
Jon: “no i know.”
Jon: “but either way i wouldnt care.”
Jon: “just gonna take your underwear off and flipping you over”
Jon: “like you weigh nothing”
Jon: “like just grabbing at you was a formality now i get to do REAL shit to you.”
Jon: “cause i know youd let me no matter what and like it”
J.: “ Iwoudl”
Jon: “id fuck you open with those same fingers”
Jon: “using you to get more of you”
Jon: “you should be fucking yourself right now btw”
Jon: “are you?”
J.: “Y.”‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡ Jay is.
Jon: “good”
Jon: “you dont have to respond to anyof this. just keep fucking yourself”
Jon: “i want you to scream”
Jon: “i want you to cry”
Jon: “i wanna make you cry”
Jon: “you should beg me to keep going”
Jon: “maybe youre still embarrassed about wanting it so bad. thats fine too.”
Jon: “because this is gonna be proof enough”
Jon: “that youre gonna be in my fucking lap forever. you know it too”
Jon: “i wanna fuck you for real. take those fingers out and stick my dick in there”
Jon: “make a fucking home in you”
Jon: “maybe if youre nice ill touch your little dick too”
Jon: “‘its the least you could do’ or whatever”
Jon: “i want you to know that there will never be a better place for you then right here”
Jon: “youre supposed to be here.”
Jon: “you gave me a mark. im putting a load in you”
Jon: “no one else is gonna get you after this”
Jon: “if you ever leave im gonna pull you back in”
Jon: “i can. Haha”
Jon: “you’re fucking mine.”
Jon: “cum to that.”§§§§§
§§§§§ Jay does. Hazy, unclear, and sore from fucking himself with nothing even resembling lube. For a moment, it feels real to him, like he really has known Jon before he decided to fuck him; like he has been made his. Something tickles at Jay’s mind, something close to deja vu, but–either because he is still certifiably in a cummy afterglow, or simply because he does not want to–he does not analyze it further. Jay McCarrol is not good at introspection, he does not wish to hone that skill now. There is a large, pregnant 10 minutes where nothing is said, and then
Jon: “you good?”
J.: “Yes.”
J.: “thank you.”
J.: “Did you cum?”
Jon: “dont worry about it”
J.: “I worry.”
Jon: “you know, youre alright J”
Jon: “maybe we should meet up soon”
J.: “Maybe”
J.: “If we can schedule”
J.: “Not now though”
Jon: “well obviously because its midnight”
J.: “Not for a while I mean”‖‖‖‖‖
‖‖‖‖‖ Jay McCarrol is currently prepping for a huge rerelease happening this time next year–which is to say, his team is currently prepping for it, and he will be in the room while it happens. There will not be much time for him to do anything else outside of it, which usually isn’t a problem because there usually isn’t anything he wants to do other than be famous.
Jon: “oh”
J.: “Sorry.”
Jon: “thats fine.”
Jon: “no im busy too.”
Jon: “but well keep messaging?”
J.: “Want to”
J.: “I love you.”
Jon: “sweet”
Jon: “you were great”
Jon: “better than great, really”
J.: “Going to bed, will text in the morning”
Jon: “awesome”
Jon: “thanks J”
Jon: “dream of me cutie”
Jon: “no lol imagine if i said that”
Jon: “the gayest thing to happen all night”
Jon: “on my end at least haha. Not yours”
At 12:36 AM EST, Jay falls asleep, now accustomed to the dinging and vibration and, in fact, finding it remarkably soothing.
In the morning, Jay McCarrol will be awoken by an intern that was hired just two weeks ago. He’ll find him with his underwear around the bottom of his thighs, cum streaked across his pillowcase and skin, and he will not be allowed to be disgusted. As is protocol, he will lead Jay McCarrol to his own shower and, while he cleans up, the intern will contact dry cleaning.
Jay McCarrol has a full day ahead of him; a full year, actually, and then some. As such, he will never contact Jon again. He will suspect that he wouldn’t be able to even if that weren’t the case, mostly due to the fact that another member of his team will recognize the telltale Grindr notification sound and contact Jay McCarrol’s manager about it, at which point he will receive a lengthy tirade about it because how could he sacrifice his own reputation like this and what was he even thinking and they could set you up with a gay lover who won’t squeal about the fact that he’s dating Jay McCarrol if that’s really what you want, at which point he will delete the app, the dangers he was aware of from the onset now fully verbalized and, by proxy, made real.
Jay McCarrol will be made to conclude that it was never love, nor even lust that drew him to Jon, but an act of teenage rebellion occurring in his early forties, making it something to be truly ashamed of. He will file this love affair away with the other things he can’t–isn’t–allowed to mention, which will grow in number steadily day by day. He will jack off to the memory of these messages at least once a week for the rest of his life. Each time, there will be something he feels he should address, something that could be attainable, if he were able to fully visualize it and reach toward it; and, each time, he will decide against doing so, fully content in a box made just for his benefit by people who understand him, Jay McCarrol.