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“I don’t know.” Tyler says it in that exasperated tone that he gains when an interviewer is being just a bit too nosy. “I thought you’d have wanted to do something on your birthday. That’s all.”
He’s been pacing for the past ten minutes. Something he does unconsciously, he thinks. Maybe Josh doesn’t notice, or just doesn’t care to bring it up.
“S’not that big of a deal,” he says now. Still scrolling on his phone. Feet propped up on the coffee table.
“I think it is. It was your birthday, dude. You’re telling me you just sat around all day and that was fine?”
Josh looks up at him with furrowed brows. “What did you do on your last birthday?”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying-“
“What did you do, though?”
He sat around and did nothing. The girls painted his nails, baked him a cake with Jenna’s help. It was domestic. And sweet. And uneventful. The selfishness in Tyler had wanted to text Josh and do something terrible. Find a hotel in a town no one knows and forget that they have responsibilities for a night.
But he can’t do that. He couldn’t then, he can’t now.
“Why are you so pissy about it? It’s really fine, Tyler-“
“I can’t want to do something for my best friend’s birthday?” Tyler’s starting to sound hysterical now. He’s stopped pacing and now stands across from Josh. Too tense. He thinks he hasn’t relaxed since what happened on that dressing room couch at Innings.
Finally, finally, Josh sets his phone down. It takes him longer than most to read the air sometimes. It’s selfish of Tyler to think he’d have learned his quirks by now.
“Really?” Is what he says. Inconvenienced, and a little tired. Maybe the whole dad thing isn’t for him after all. Isn’t that a horrible thing to think?
“What?” Tyler plays dumb, and acts like they aren’t on the same wavelength, like they haven’t been on the same wavelength for over a decade.
“You wanna ‘do something,’” Josh says flatly. “Before we play a show.”
“Is that not what it is? It’s doing something. Should I say we should go out and party instead?”
There’s a disadvantage here. Josh being sat, Tyler standing. It creates a power imbalance, whether they realize it or not. Tyler is the leader. Tyler takes the reins. Tyler makes the decisions.
And then Josh stands up, too, and everything is thrown out as soon as it’s established.
“You wanna fuck me.”
Tyler feels his face heat up. He hates when Josh is blunt like this, and just a little bit pissed off.
Makes him wet.
“I didn’t say that,” he mutters.
“Why? Because you’re tense?” Josh mumbles. “‘Cause you haven’t been able to do this to me since Innings? Didn’t it feel bad enough then?”
Do this to me. Like it’s torture. Or a chore. Or, like it’s what it really is.
Cheating.
“That’s not what I said,” Tyler repeats, voice sharp, but it falls flat. And he just looks even more pathetic. Defensive and needy.
“God, dude, look at you. You don’t shave anymore, you don’t sleep. You look like shit. I can’t be the reason this is happening to you.”
Tyler swallows the lump in his throat but it doesn’t go away. What a selfish thing to vocalize. He feels his eyes glaze over. It is the reason. He won’t say that, though. He’ll just deny, deny, deny until he kills himself from the inside out.
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through greasy hair and sucks in a breath. “Guess not. I don’t know. Just having a lot of stuff going on lately. Wanted to…” he makes a vague gesture. “Blow off steam.”
“That’s not-we can’t just.” Josh cuts himself off with a huff. The cogs are turning in his brain, though. Just a little.
“Why not?”
…
“Why not?” He echoes incredulously. “Tyler. Come on. You know why.”
“I know,” Tyler says thickly. “I know it’s bad. I’m fucked just thinking about it, but I just need this right now, Josh, and you’re-fuck, you’re the only one I-“ he shakes his head. This is embarrassing. He’s doing nothing but guilt-tripping Josh into this. He’s a terrible person for it. He doesn’t regret a thing.
“I know I’m a piece of shit for wanting it, and-and making you-“
“You’re not making me do anything.”
Tyler stiffens. “What?”
Josh’s voice has softened, and so have his hands. No longer sharp and defensive. His words are soft silk sheets and the feather-light touches of a lover. With three simple strides, he takes in all of Tyler’s freezing cold burdens with warm, open arms.
But his heart is fucking racing.
Tyler listens to it with unseeing eyes. Staring at the wall. What are they doing? Is any of this even worth it?
“We’re bad people,” Josh murmurs. “Really bad.” But he doesn’t move.
The walls collapse. The waves die down, the armies fall. Is this pity sex? Is Tyler so bad that he gets pity sex now? All he has to do is squeeze out a few miserable tears and Josh will stick his hand down his pants?
Fuck. He’s too old to be doing this.
“I’m sorry.” His mouth feels like it’s full of chalk. “You’re right. We don’t have to.” He starts to pull away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I-it’s fine. I’m sorry-“
“Tyler.” Josh reaches for him. Always reaching. Never finding what he needs. Only what Tyler thinks he wants.
“I don’t want it if you don’t wa-“
“I do.”
Oh.
“I shouldn’t, but I do. I do want you. God, do I want you.”
Well. That changes a lot.
Tyler finally meets his gaze. Josh has always had this habit of second-guessing himself and subsequently robbing himself of opportunities he’d otherwise enjoy. Always denying himself what he could’ve said, could’ve done.
A few past names roll through Tyler’s mind. Josh could’ve had anyone he wanted. Instead he’s here, hand around Tyler’s wrist with a yearning in his eyes that tells him he’s been thinking about it just as much.
Has Tyler gotten so out of practice that he can’t tell what Josh is thinking at every waking moment? Do they spend that much time apart now? It…suddenly feels distant.
“So why push me away?” He challenges.
Josh sucks in a breath. “To say that I did.”
Thinking about it now does nothing when the reality of it all comes to fruition. When Josh’s hunger overtakes his morals and Tyler gets to taste the spearmint gum that’s been tucked in his cheek for the past hour.
The door’s locked. Tyler made sure of it. Regardless of the outcome.
“Don’t think about it,” he breathes, pulling Josh onto yet another cheap leather couch. “Please. Please just give me this right now.”
Still tacky from soundcheck, they tangle into each other and Josh has to prop himself up with a leg hanging off the couch because they just don’t fit on it. It’s something small, so small and insignificant that Tyler could just fucking cry.
Josh’s hands start to fumble with their respective belts, buttons, zippers, but Tyler stops him as soon as their pants are shucked down their thighs.
He flushes. “Can we…uh.”
Thank God for that whole mind reading thing. Josh’s still got it.
He nods, and Tyler watches his pupils dilate in real time while he scrambles to find something akin to lube.
He comes back with, well. Lube.
“Dude. Seriously? You bring that with you-?” Tyler sits up on his elbows, bites his lip to suppress a laugh. “Sorry. Sorry.” He shakes his head. He falls back against the couch to savor the feeling of Josh’s weight on top of him again.
“You bring condoms with you, too?” He asks.
“Shut up.” Josh’s face turns red. He tugs Tyler’s boxers down. “No.” The lube is cold enough to freeze Tyler’s nervous system into relaxing.
“You-mm-jerk off that much when we go on trips?” He presses, because he’s an asshole like that. “Or did you know this would happen?”
He knows damn well that Josh likes it wet. Unbearably wet. He knows he could yank a dry one out himself and cum just as hard.
But to each their own.
Josh nudges his thighs apart, and keeps one hand wrapped around his cock while the other prods two fingers against his hole. He tucks his face into Tyler’s throat. “Maybe,” he sighs. “Maybe both. I dunno.”
Tyler can feel the way he relaxes. How much he’s actually needed this, how much he’s thought about it too. Just too shy to say it. Always tentative. Sweet, sweet Josh.
He distracts them both with a kiss. Multiple kisses. Tyler lifts his hips, rolls back against Josh’s palm, his fingers. It hurts, because they haven’t done this in a while, and Tyler isn’t as flexible as he used to be. But the pain is good. Pain is grounding, and real.
There’s always been something so intoxicating about Josh’s mouth. The curl of his lips into those doofy smiles. The permanent taste of spearmint every time they kiss. Tyler can’t remember a time when he didn’t smell like mint and Old Spice and something coyly sweet he could never put a name to.
Tyler doesn’t have the paint on yet, so he can relish in the heat of Josh’s breath against his throat. The slow, agonizing drag of his teeth over his Adam’s apple. God, he wishes Josh didn’t fix his fucking teeth. He misses the jagged bite marks that used to litter his shoulders.
No bite marks now, though. Absolutely no evidence that this moment ever existed.
Josh’s fingers retreat. He pulls away with an open-mouthed kiss to Tyler’s jaw that trails itself down between his legs.
“Josh-“ Tyler throws an arm over his reddening face. A pretty mouth on his hips, his waist. Pretty mouth kissing up the side of his cock. He whines.
Josh slides his hand up beneath Tyler’s shirt, bunching it at his chest. Lube smears over his skin. It should be gross, really, but Tyler bucks his hips up and mumbles out an apology when he hears Josh gag.
Something about it feels so familiar. Tyler can imagine this in the back of the van, shaking and new, with Josh’s mouth around his cock and helpless pleas on his own lips. How pathetic of him to still fall apart so easily all these years later.
Josh is a good boy, though. He takes it all, even when Tyler’s fingers tangle in his curls, even when he’s being yanked off and pulled into a breathless, bitter kiss.
Tyler blindly paws at Josh’s boxers and fishes his cock out with needy fingers. He forces Josh’s hips down and they both moan into each other’s mouths. The friction is dry-too dry for Josh, but perfect for Tyler.
Josh tears himself away enough to peel his shirt off and shimmy his boxers down his thighs. “Can I-“
“Please,” Tyler huffs. The couch is sticky beneath them. Lube, sweat, the embarassing amount of pre-cum oozing down his cock.
Josh has some on his chin, too. Cute.
Haphazardly, a pillow is shoved beneath Tyler’s waist and he grunts, scooting towards Josh’s waiting hands. So malleable. Flexible only in this moment. Just for him.
“Easy,” Josh says, smoothing a hand up his thigh. He can tell when Tyler’s knee acts up, or when his muscles are still tight. Too tense. He doesn’t stretch enough. But he won’t say that. He respects Tyler too much to force him through the same regimen he puts himself through.
“M’fine,” Tyler says stiffly.
“You’re not. This isn’t comfortable?”
He makes a noise under his breath, then reluctantly shakes his head.
“Move, then.” Josh leans down and kisses the shell of his ear. “C’mon. On your knees?”
Tyler nudges against Josh’s head with his own before rolling over. He doesn’t take his shirt off, but his boxers end up on the floor. His face is red, and he hides it in the heat of the couch, pillow under his chest, Josh’s hands wandering over his stomach.
“Stop,” he mutters. Josh squeezes his hips.
“Josh.”
Josh’s body folds over his. Tyler can feel how needy he is. Absentmindedly rutting against him.
“Just wanna feel you,” he says softly, pouting.
“Not there.” Tyler bows his head, tries to swat Josh’s hands away. “Fuck me.” He can feel his vision blurring. He can’t take his shirt off. Josh can’t touch him there. Something gross starts to bloom in the bottom of his stomach.
Josh retreats. Tyler blinks away shameful tears. Thank God for this position.
“Okay?” Josh whispers. The cap of the lube bottle pops open again, and Tyler shivers at the extra wetness sliding down his thighs.
“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Good.”
Josh kisses his shoulder before pushing in. Always so gentle. Always so careful. Maybe back in the day Tyler would snap that he’s not gonna break, but now, he appreciates it. Because one of these days, he just might.
They both let out a breath. Josh stills. Feeling, sighing, pressing himself so hard against Tyler they’re about to melt into one.
“Move,” Tyler orders after a minute. He swallows thickly and tries to arch his back. His knee aches like a motherfucker. But it’s a good kind of hurt. One that, once more, Tyler craves for the grounding feeling it brings him. He doesn’t find it the same way as he once did, knelt in his bathroom with a razor in his hand and reddened towels before him.
But he still chases it. And Josh knows. Self harm isn’t just the cut of a blade. It’s unsafe climbing. Jumps that make him wince. The slamming of hands against a piano, his head, his chest.
Josh rolls his hips. The thoughts go away for a second. Tyler groans. So deep. Too fucking slow.
“Fuck,” he gasps, reaching out to cling to the arm of the couch. “Fuck, Josh. Move.”
Josh’s stupid dog brain registers something out of that. His fingers dig into Tyler’s hips for purchase. They climb up to his chest, holding onto whatever they can as he starts to fuck into Tyler hard. It’s a kind of movement rooted in desperation and longing and shame.
Tyler slips a trembling hand between his legs, his cock twitching in his palm. The lights are buzzing above them. This doesn’t feel real. Fucking in a foreign country, just like they did before all the responsibilities of marriage and children tore them apart.
The heat, the weight. Both physical and emotional. It’s debilitating. Tyler doesn’t know how much more he can take before he crumbles.
Josh’s voice is tight in his ear when he leans over and forces an even closer proximity.
“Ride me,” he hisses. It comes from a place of need, Tyler thinks. Greediness.
He chews his bottom lip and pushes himself free. Guides Josh onto his back and straddles him. He finally allows his shirt to be slipped from his frame and he feels himself shiver.
And Josh is so. fucking. greedy. His hands leave invisible trails over every inch of Tyler’s body. Stains of love, maybe. But they won’t say that.
Tyler’s sinking back down with a huff, his own cock dripping against his stomach. Every time he moves, it rubs against himself and his breath hitches.
“You’re gross,” he pants, hands flat on Josh’s chest. “Making me do this. Fragile old man like me. You want me to die?”
Josh licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says. In an absolute daze. Drunk on him. It’s flattering, if he wasn’t already sore.
But Tyler prides himself on his talents. Age and aching joints don’t stop him from riding Josh like he means it. And he does. The couch creaks beneath them, leather squeaking against their skin. Just like it did when they were nothing but an opener for bands far larger than them.
Josh holds him, helps him, just so he can touch. His own hips weakly buck up in tandem, but that’s just his own subby mindset leaking through.
“Fuck.” Tyler moans through grit teeth. Josh’s hand wraps around his cock, and he fucks into his fist every time he rolls his hips. “Fuck.”
Hair stuck to his forehead. Eyes fluttering closed as his head tips back. He’s going to need a really, really hot shower after this.
“I’m gonna cum,” he breathes, voice cracking at the end. He can’t bear to look down at Josh. He knows there’s a warmness in his eyes. Soft touches. Love. It’s love. He can’t do that right now. Josh has always been terrible at hiding that specific feeling. It’s painted all over his face.
Tyler cums on Josh’s chest, spills over his fist and cries while doing it. His hips stutter, back arched. It’s depressing how quickly the disappointment washes over him, but he still feels it like a brick to the face.
This is wrong.
Tyler folds over on himself and lets Josh fuck him. He sobs in the crook of his neck and realizes he forgot to take his wedding band off. He twitches through the overstimulation. Ears ringing as Josh mutters something to him, huffs and pants and drools like the fucking dog he is.
When it quiets, when it stills, that’s when Tyler slips back into reality.
“Hey.” A hand smoothes over his back. “Tyler.”
“I’m sorry.” Tyler feels like an idiot. He just wants to stay hidden here forever. Naked and vulnerable and embarrassed. A cheater. Fully aware of his actions and the consequences, but still stumbling towards a lustful endgame every time.
“Stop. Don’t do that right now. Not right now.” Josh’s voice sounds like he’s underwater. Is Tyler having a panic attack? Is this what it feels like to have an ego death? Or is he just that miserable?
“I’m sorry,” he croaks out again. Lying here in the aftermath of infidelity. He doesn’t want to move. He wants to run away. He’d lay here forever if he could. He never wants to see Josh again.
They’ll be onstage soon.
Avoiding eye contact and trying to pretend this didn’t happen. Josh will FaceTime Debby afterwards and coo at Felix’s babbling. Tyler will tell Jenna he’s too tired tonight. For her to tell the girls and Tommy he loves them. He’ll fall asleep with eyes red and puffy from crying.
He’s not sure what feels worse. The betrayal to his family, or the hurt in his heart from not having Josh all to himself. It’s selfish more than anything else.
He scrolls through Twitter. Everyone loves the ad libs. The covers. Why wouldn’t they?
@spoiledgoodz: idk what happened between them yesterday but i know they’re trying to pretend it didn’t
Josh wouldn’t fucking look at him. He just wouldn’t. He had to command him just to make eye contact. Begging for it. There are three thousand likes on that tweet. Three thousand people know what happened, and they think it was yesterday? He wishes. This has been a decade-long horror film he’s unwillingly been cast as the main character in.
@Unfairly_Local: Oh something DEFINITELY happened
@pawsdun: is this why there was no posts on Josh’s bday???
@tyfeellikegrbge: do u think they’re mad at each other……
@_ATROFDun: Oh they definitely fucked before this
@sniffbork: [image] WHATS WRONG WITH THEMMM
It’s a photo of them during Shy Away. When Josh wouldn’t fucking look at him. Of course it’s plastered everywhere. Why wouldn’t it be? Look at it. Look at them. It’s pathetic.
Tyler slams his phone down, and decides that’s enough being perceived by strangers for today.
He’ll fix it tomorrow.