Chapter Text
“You familiar with the Beatles, Bird?”
“Am I familiar with THE Beatles?”
Matt looked away from the TV for a moment to take another hit from the bong. The sound of the water bubbling over the Cash Cab theme emanating from the TV was a familiar one, as was the visual of the billowing cloud of smoke Matt released from his lungs as he sunk deeper into the couch next to Jay. Jay, too, was smoking, but not from the bong. He was suffering through one of the joints he’d rolled earlier, realizing that he had fucked up his filter made from the rolled up strip of cardboard he’d cut from the rolling paper box. Instead of providing any kind of filter it had de-coiled into basically just a tunnel within the joint, and Jay was doing everything he could to disguise his inhaling of scooby snacks. Matt had made fun of him earlier for rolling shitty joints, and Jay was determined to prove him wrong, even if that meant burning the fuck out of his lungs.
A MuchMusic ad bumper played as Cash Cab went to commercial- and Jay turned his whole body sideways to face Matt on their tiny couch in their tiny apartment.
“Obviously I know about the fucking Beatles, Matt. What are you actually asking?”
Matt opened his mouth to answer, sharply inhaling as he prepared to speak, which instead caused him to cough super hard. Jay laughed at him, which only triggered his own cough that he’d been suppressing for the past ten minutes. The two coughed and laughed together for a few moments, tears springing to their eyes from the effort and from the smoke. Matt grabbed a half-empty room temperature Molson can from the coffee table and took a gulp from it in an effort to wash down the cough, which he then handed Jay to do the same.
Matt wiped the tears from his eyes as he caught his breath. “We are so lame.” He said, cracking all of his knuckles in order.
Jay put the Molson back down on the coffee table, still kind of clearing his throat of debris. “Matt. The Beatles?”
“Right, right, yeah. But you know about what they said about them, eh?” Matt said, reaching for the remote to turn down the volume on the music video that had begun playing. The late night MuchMusic picks were not always conducive to an audible conversation.
“I mean… lots of stuff.” Jay said, groggily, trying to think of what in the world Matt could be referring to. “You talking about the drugs thing? When everyone was like, “you guys did drugs for this” and they were all “no we’ve never even heard of drugs” but it was obvious they did em?” Jay put on a dopey sounding British accent when he spoke for the Beatles.
“Well, sure, that’s maybe a- a partial element to it.” Matt said “But I mean the other thing they kept denying-”
“Ohhhh the circlejerk.”
“YES, the circlejerk. Do you think it happened?”
“Um-”
“Because I think it happened.”
Jay leaned back, reclining against the back of the couch as he extinguished the joint against the rim of a glass they had been using as an ashtray since Matt had hurled their old ashtray down the stairs. “Okay?”
Matt nodded, as if he had made his point. “Do you think… do you think it brought them closer as a group of friends?”
Jay paused a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Do I think it- like, enriched their fucking- their soul bond? Jerking off together?”
Matt couldn’t hold his laughter back either, seemingly aware of how funny his question was, but still unable to refrain from asking it. “I’m serious, man! What if all that jerking it is what made the music good? How else would have Ringo played those drums that good when he can’t drum?”
Jay pinched the bridge of his nose, still half laughing. “Hold on, Ringo? I thought it was just John and Paul. That was the whole thing- they were, like, British teenagers.”
Matt huffed at the thought. “Aw man… Y’know, if I was George Harrison or Ringo I would be mad as fuck. Like, how come you guys get to jerk off together and I just have to… to be Ringo, y’know?”
Jay stretched his arms upwards, arching his back and revealing a small section of his fuzzy midriff. Somewhere deep inside him, Matt felt something squeeze and tangle together. “I think Ringo was actually pretty happy being Ringo.” Jay said, yawning and coming out of the stretch.
Matt chuckled, bringing his legs onto the couch, knees up and folded in front of him. “Now that’s some fuckin- some Buddhist shit. You wanna talk about nirvana- that’s what fuckin reaching nirvana looks like. Happy being Ringo…”
As Matt trailed off he could feel Jay’s eyes heavy on him, half-lidded and red from the smoke, and Matt was sure his were the same. The two of them breathed together for what felt like multiple minutes, but was probably no more than 30 seconds. Jay let out a small laugh that almost seemed shy with how suddenly nervous it sounded.
“Fuck, MJ, I’m way too high.” he said, stretching out his arms and legs and flopping them over the length of the couch. Matt could suddenly very clearly see an uncharacteristically pronounced bulge from below Jay’s zipper, which brought back the knots deep inside him.
Matt looked at the coffee table at the multiple empty beer cans, trying to do a tally in his head, and quickly losing count each time. “Man, that’s embarrassing, to get crossed on beer? What are we, fourteen?”
Jay laughed, that same weirdly shy laugh from before as he turned his gaze back to the TV where some model in a bikini was gyrating on some blinged out rapper’s lambo. He exhaled, slowly, and almost absentmindedly palmed his crotch over his jeans, as if just entertaining the notion.
Instantly, Matt’s adrenaline spiked, so intensely that he froze on instinct. Here he was, faced with a moment that he had screwed up all too many times. In the intricate rituals of masculinity, there were unspoken rules, guidelines and faux-pas, and Matt had spent the first 22 years of his life completely missing them. A heavy pressure settled into his chest, as he suddenly felt that this moment had stakes. He wasn’t sure why (well, maybe he was, but that was a thought process for another day) but he felt certain that if he fucked up getting to see Jay jerk off right now, he would maybe actually for real kill himself. So he forced himself to stay quiet, to not make a quip to diffuse the tension, to not ask the unspoken out loud, to fuckin just… be a man. Or something. Completely ignoring the model on the screen, Matt’s eyes stayed glued to Jay’s face, knowing that if at any point Jay broke his focus on the video, Matt would be totally fucked.
Matt watched as Jay moved his hand from above his jeans, to unzip them, to rubbing himself over his underwear, still seemingly absentmindedly. Matt was unsure whether to de-fold his legs to reveal the obvious erection he had, which would be instantly visible through his sweatpants, or keep them up and risk it seeming like he was just watching Jay… which he was. Fuck, what the hell? This was so difficult for no reason. Matt tried to get out of his head, but he could feel the weed starting to make him paranoid. He was still spiralling over his course of action when he watched Jay pull down the waistband of the front of his underwear, and then watched Jay’s dick flop out from beneath it. Matt inhaled sharply, and then immediately prayed it had been inaudible. This was a point of no return- but at least it had simplified his course of action. He slowly unfurled his legs, and ran a hand across his dick through his sweatpants as he did so. The music video had ended, but Jay was now just sitting with his head lolled back on the back of the couch, still touching himself lazily. Matt put a hand down his own pants, and not wanting to seem scared of having his dick out, also pulled himself over the top of his waistband, gently stroking himself and rising to his full length. He couldn’t help but compare himself to Jay- not that he hadn’t seen Jay’s dick before, but never this… at attention. Jay’s dick was definitely smaller than Matt’s (not small per se, just smaller), more slender as well, but it was perfectly smooth and even with an aesthetically pleasing curve, and was no doubt a better looking dick than Matt’s own, no question. Matt peered back at his own cock, an unapologetic looking thing, both longer and thicker than Jay’s, but considerably less… beautiful. Whereas Jay’s dick was the same thickness all the way up, Matt’s had an odd taper out and taper back in that sort of slightly bulged in the middle of his shaft, which itself was covered in veins that appeared to give it an uneven texture. Matt found himself thinking that if his own dick was a tool, Jay’s was an instrument. And then he found himself cringing at how faggy that sounded. Nevermind how gay it was to see your friend’s dick and have the first thing you think be that it was in any way “beautiful”.
Jay’s eyes were nearly closed, as his head remained leaned back and his face pointed at the ceiling. Matt could see Jay’s lips parting as he began breathing heavier, exposing his stupid crooked overbite. Matt bit his own bottom lip as he tried to look away, but each time he did, his own hand against his dick convinced him to steal another look. Eyes as wide as saucers, Matt watched as Jay brought his hand up to his mouth, straightened his neck and brought his head back upright for a moment, and messily spit into his own palm. There was nothing purposeful or coordinated about it, and Jay’s spit was stringy and sticky from being dried out from the joint. He got very little of it in his hand, and instead mostly spat strands that dripped down his chin. With the motor skills of a toddler, he pushed his palm up his chin to collect the spit, and when he brought it away from his face, a long stretchy spit strand connected his palm and his lips, and slowly collected in the middle before dropping down onto Jay’s shirt, severing the tie. His lips were shiny and his hand was messy, covered in bubbly, slightly mucousy spit. Paying no mind to the lost spit that had dripped onto his chest, Jay wrapped his spitty hand around his dick, and sighed, relaxing into the couch more as he began to stroke himself with it. Matt felt like he was going insane, like he was discovering a fetish he didn’t know he had in real time, like he was watching custom torture porn made just for assholes who make their friends uncomfortable. He squeezed his own dick in his hand, leaking a little bit of precum as the sound of Jay’s dick suddenly became way more audible with the addition of the spit. Matt was breathing fast and heavy, face contorted in a mix of stress and focus, as his thought was not on getting himself off so much as it was in making sure he did the right thing. He found himself a little jealous of Jay, as it seemed like he was able to let go of his worry about the situation, if he’d even had any to begin with. But that’s not the kind of luxury Matt could afford- he knew he wasn’t the kind of guy who could trust his instincts in moments like these. There were rules to these things, and if you broke them, people didn’t stick by you. Yeah, some of this is definitely paranoia from the weed… Matt thought, as he watched Jay bring himself closer and closer to completion. Honestly I would be okay with just this. With just watching him- I don’t really need to get off, it’s so much more… satisfying to see him do it. I’m secondary to this, I’m just the camera really, I may as well not even be a person here-
“Matt…”
Matt snapped out of his spiral, as he realized Jay was looking right at him. Oh fuck, had he been seen looking at Jay? He had honestly spaced out just now and wasn’t even sure if he was still watching Jay or not. Well, fuck, this was it then. The moment broken, Jay surely would excuse himself and go upstairs and finish by thinking about whatever girl he fucked last week, and start looking for a roommate that wasn’t a faggot who would jump at the chance to look at his dick. Matt felt a churning sickness rise in his esophagus.
“Haha…” Jay murmured in an unconcerned tone. “What can I say… you’re the one who brought up jerking off… got it all in my head or whatever.”
Matt blinked. Huh? Was… was Jay justifying to him why this was happening?? Matt’s crossfaded brain struggled to keep up with the new information- Jay wasn’t weirded out by Matt staring at him, and in fact thought that Matt was weirded out by HIM for jerking off. Fuck… that makes so much more sense than what I was thinking.
“Hey, no complaints here, Bird.” Matt said, instantly wincing. Stop saying gay shit… you’re already DOING gay shit, you can’t also say it. In full honesty, Matt was just surprised that Jay had spoken at all. According to everything he knew, talking was a cardinal sin in this moment. But of course Jay knew better. Jay always knew what to say to make things normal, always dragging Matt back from the brink of lunacy.
This soft revelation was punctuated by the much harder realization that Jay was now clearly watching Matt’s dick. He was still pumping himself slowly, the spit in his hand quickly drying, but his gaze was unmistakably fixed on Matt’s crotch, a brow furrowed as if he were analyzing something. Matt continued stroking himself, unsure if it was weirder to stop or to keep going. He continued both out of a fear of making the wrong move, and also out of a sick erotic urge that made the whole process feel so much better just knowing Jay was watching. Matt could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, turning his rosy complexion even redder as he watched Jay’s eyes, trained on Matt’s dick. Matt squirmed on the couch, not wanting to seem too eager but growing restless from the mounting arousal in his body.
“You’re a dry jacker?” Jay finally spoke, looking up to meet Matt’s eyes. Matt’s hand froze as he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. What the fuck was Jay doing? This was officially in broken rules territory- why would you EVER comment on how the other guy was touching himself? Even the implication that you were watching on purpose at all would fuck you over forever. Matt’s entire mouth went dry, and then flooded with spit as he bit down on his tongue. He swallowed, and met Jay’s gaze. Jay was obviously way higher than he was, though maybe it was just the nerves making him feel marginally more sober. Jay’s jaw was loose and his eyelids still heavy as he regarded Matt’s throbbing dick.
“What, you expect me to spit in my hand, like you?” Matt retorted before he realized this also implicated him in the sin of watching. But Jay just laughed a little and shook his head.
“Dude, you should… it’s awesome…” Jay murmured, licking his hand to rewet it before continuing to touch himself, still holding eye contact with either Matt or Matt’s immobile hand around his dick. The thought of Jay’s tongue on his hand after touching his dick made Matt’s shoulders lock up for a second, before he pushed out a strained, short laugh.
“And get my hand all gross? No thanks.” He replied, the hand around his dick trembling imperceptibly. He couldn’t believe they were actually having this conversation. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t died and this was the afterlife. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. Maybe he was dreaming- he was too high to tell.
Jay thought about this for only a second, before he made one swift move, turning his body towards Matt, and scooching closer, his own dick now pressed between the couch and his own body, shoulders and arms at an equal distance with Matt’s knees. He unceremoniously parted Matt’s legs, placing himself between them, face at Matt’s chest level, hands at Matt’s hips. Matt’s already fast breath quickened as he approximated hyperventilation. Jay crooked his head upwards, and looked up at Matt, his big brown irises shining against the red in Jay’s eye whites, his lips in that ever so slight, thoughtless pout that they often found themselves in when Jay was focusing on something other than his face.
“Man, it rules, here lemme show you.” Jay said, making an attempt to spit into his hand again. This time, nothing of substance was produced, and Jay smacked his dry lips and mouth for a second before holding his already dried spit-covered hand up to Matt’s face. The smell of dried spit and mouth and dick permeated Matt’s nose and he could feel his own dick twitch involuntarily. At first Matt thought this was some kind of proof in and of itself, but then he realized what Jay wanted him to do. Another bite of the tongue, another flood of spit into Matt’s mouth, but he did not deposit it into Jay’s hand.
“I-I don’t know about this, Bird, I mean we- we’re pretty fucked up-” Matt laughed his way through the sentence, kicking himself for cutting it off but knowing it was probably the right move.
Jay, however, only cocked his head slightly and rested his chin on Matt’s chest, staring up at him with beautiful eyes. Matt could smell the cheap beer and weed on Jay’s breath as he continued breathing heavily,
“C’mon, MJ… You’re always doing all these things for me… Lemme do something for you.” Jay whispered, not breaking eye contact the entire time. Jay’s hips squirmed and made little circles as he pressed his dick into the couch, rubbing himself against the rough cushion covers.
Fuck. Okay.
Immediately all thought, rational or otherwise, left Matt’s mind as he dutifully spat his watery spit into Jay’s outstretched hand. He watched it slip through the cracks in Jay’s fingers and begin to stretch downwards, creating small wet dots on Matt’s tshirt. Jay retreated slightly, moving his head and shoulders back over the threshold of Matt’s hips, pressing Matt’s legs outwards in a butterfly position. He had somehow pulled Matt’s sweatpants even further down, and he tugged them past the knee, so that they scrunched at Matt’s ankles, which were trapped somewhere under Jay’s chest. Jay sighed, and rested his head on the soft inner skin of Matt’s left thigh, right under where his boxer briefs had ridden up to the crook of his hip. The hair on Matt’s neck stood up as he felt the rough stubble on Jay’s cheek press against his tender inner thigh, scratching and lightly scraping as Jay and Matt moved independently of one another. This was so not within the regular realms of masculinity… Matt should have known that from the moment Jay had physically touched him. And now, he could only watch with hot shameful excitement, the warmth and texture of Jay’s face emanating against his inner leg, as Jay’s slick, spitty hand made the final move to close the distance, and wrapped itself around Matt’s dick.
Instantly, Matt let out a shuddering hiss as the cold from the spit touched the burning hot skin of his dick. He felt each one of Jay’s slender piano-playing fingers wrap around his shaft, and his thumb began making little circles right where the head of Matt’s dick met the rest of his shaft. Instinctually, he let out a sharp whine, bucking his hips, in a violent jolt that was as much a surprise to him as it was to Jay. Jay raised his head from his pillow on Matt’s thighs for a moment to look at Matt, annoyed.
“Hey. Stay still.” Jay said, very matter-of-factly. He rested his head down once more, and actually closed his eyes. There was something serene about it, something that made Matt feel more comfortable somehow. Here, in the closest he’d ever come to sex so far, he was under no obligation to perform. No eyes were on him, no cues were being taken from him, not even the gaze of the guy who had his fucking dick in his hand would rest upon him. Matt knew Jay was too high to have done that intentionally, but part of him wondered whether it was a subconscious choice. If he really did know Matt that well, to know that he wouldn’t be able to let go of himself with an audience.
All his circling thoughts were cut off with the first stroke from Jay’s hand. Matt could feel each vein poking against the ridges of the inside of Jay’s fist, the feeling of a foreign body touching him overwhelming. For the first time, he had no sensory input from nor control over the thing enveloping his dick. He found himself thinking about getting his mouth frozen at the dentist, poking his chin with his finger and being able to feel it from his finger, but not from his chin. That kind of odd detachment that made you realize just how much meat was on your body when it wasn’t all connecting with each other. Jay was moving slowly, coating Matt’s dick with spit in long, deliberate pumps. It was torturous, as Matt ached to thrust upwards into Jay’s hand, but he forced himself to stay still, at Jay’s behest. Still, he could not prevent himself from curling and uncurling his toes, tensing and relaxing his hip and back muscles, trying to find somewhere to put the sensation. His mouth was open, letting out small, sharp breaths that seemed moments away from becoming moans. Though he was keeping his thighs still, he knew Jay must have been able to feel the movement rippling through his whole body. Matt gripped the edge of the couch as Jay finally began speeding up, stroking Matt quicker and with slick, pornographic squelching noises. Matt’s stomach tensed as the pleasure expanded through his body rapidly.
“Ghh- h- holy fuck, Bird I don’t- I ca-aaaah! Ahh, ah, oh fuck, holy shit, holy shit, fffffff- ugh, my god, oh my god-” Matt mumbled out, breath shaky and stilted as his back arched against Jay’s touch.
He could feel Jay smile and let out a short little laugh against his thigh. “I know, right?” As if it was only the spit and not the whole insane situation that was driving Matt crazy.
Matt could see Jay’s hips picking up speed and intensity as he grinded his hips against the couch, the circles quickly becoming a rut as Jay chased more stimulation. As if in response, Jay tightened his hand and started jerking Matt off even faster, exacting even more embarrassing stammerings and moans from his best friend. Matt heard himself whine, which was surprising- he’d never done that before. He also heard himself muttering please, please, please, over and over under his breath, unsure what exactly he was pleading for. He realized as he watched Jay rut against the cushions, that Jay was moving his hand in accordance with how he moved his hips. In not being able to separate the two actions properly, Jay was unintentionally guiding Matt through his own orgasm. The thought of that made Matt’s head explode, as he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for Jay’s hair. He got a gentle handful, and tried not to pull on it too hard, but it felt like the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth as Jay ruthlessly handled him.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh fuck, I- I-” Matt tried to speak, but the waves of pleasure were catching up to him, and he could feel his abs start to seize up. “Jay I- I’m gonna- Bird-” Matt babbled, his grip in Jay’s hair getting tighter.
Jay simply leaned his head back towards Matt’s hand, seemingly enjoying the sensation, and murmured “Just hold on… I’m almost there… I got you…”
Matt felt a spike of arousal shoot through his sternum, the soft, casual reassurance feeling like filthy dirty talk as he watched Jay’s own breath pick up speed, his hand on Matt’s cock stilling for a moment as he thrusted his hips against the cushion in quick, furious pulses. He was making short, high pitched noises somewhere nasally at the back of his throat, until a single loud gasp ripped itself from his throat, and Matt was only able to take in the visual of Jay shaking and curling inwards for a second before Jay’s hand squeezed hard and jerked at the connective point on Matt’s dick in quick, repetitive movements, zeroing in on Matt’s building orgasm. Matt felt his stomach contract a split second before he felt the orgasm rip through his body, arching forward, cursing through his choked, breathless moaning as his vision went multicoloured in an inky way, not realizing he was scrunching his eyes closed. He came harder than he’d even really thought was possible, which was saying something because he thought about it a lot.
For just one moment he forgot about the burden of being Matt Johnson, the burden of being a person, of being a man, of existing at all. For just that moment, he was only the feeling, the experience of being cared for, of feeling good. He gasped for air as the waves of his orgasm passed, and he could feel the sweat prickle on his forehead. He opened his eyes once he remembered that they were closed, and saw Jay already looking back at him, and horrifyingly, globs of Matt’s cum strung all through Jay’s hair.
“Oh my god, dude, I’m so sorry, I should have like, like aimed more- or, well, actually, YOU should have aimed more- haha, dude this is- I mean, no, wait, sorry. Fuck, dude I’m so scrambled.” Matt babbled, already mentally saving the visual of his cum in Jay’s hair.
Jay, to his credit, snorted and laughed. “So it’s MY fault? What am I supposed to have the brainpower to aim YOUR dick as well while I’m having my own orgasm over here?”
Matt knew the only thing stopping him from freaking out over the familiar, friendly banter in a context that felt so monumental were the endorphins running through his brain in the afterglow, but even so he couldn’t help but feel comforted by Jay’s words.
“You said it, not me, Bird. Way to be a hypocrite though, wanna shit on dryjacking and then get off like a fuckin dog on the couch.” Matt retorted. Jay sat up, releasing Matt’s trapped feet that had long since fallen asleep, and was greeted by a white sticky web running from his stomach to his crotch to the couch, stretching upwards and outwards the more he moved. Jay made a sound of disgust, as did Matt.
“Maybe I should go shower.” Jay said, standing up. He tried to wipe the cum off the couch with the bottom of his shirt, but leaning over only caused some of Matt’s cum from his hair to fall onto the couch, just sort of increasing the total cum amount on the couch. Matt laughed, as did Jay, the stoned giggles re-entering their body as they watched each other bumble around.
“I got it, man, just go fuckin shower.” Matt said, tucking his limp dick back into his underwear, and pulling up his sweatpants. He stood next to Jay for a moment, looking him in the eye. He felt an urge in his throat to lean forward and kiss Jay, and as quickly as that urge came up, he swallowed it. Nothing could change. The threat of losing whatever this was… that was stronger than any hypothetical future where things were even better. Matt was familiar with settling for just enough, and wasn’t about to start making leaps towards impossible pipe dreams just because he’d jerked off with his best friend one time.
Jay smiled at Matt, and turned to head up towards the bathroom “Thanks MJ… you take such good care of me.” he said, laughing lightly. Matt’s heart twisted together. What a good bit. What a good joke.
Matt turned back to the couch, looking at the splotch of Jay’s cum. Without thinking, he sat down again and swirled his fingers in it. It felt just like his own… Matt couldn’t tell if that made it hotter or not. He slowly lifted his fingers towards his mouth, unsure how far they were going to get. He reached close enough to smell the faint organ-y smell of it, and then got disgusted by the thought of eating cold couch cum. Suppressing a gag, he got back up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a dish rag and running it under the faucet. He returned to the couch, wiping it clean and hopefully rubbing out any stains. He wasn’t too concerned- that couch was already pretty gross to begin with.
When he finished cleaning, he too went upstairs, and passing in front of the bathroom to get to his room, he could hear Jay in the shower, singing some INXS song, the name of it Matt had never bothered to learn. Matt slowly climbed into his loft bed and sat with his legs dangling over the side from where he’d removed the edge panelling. He sat there, in the dark, listening to Jay sing way too loud for the time of night as the water from the shower obscured the lower notes. The distance from the bathroom to his mess of bedsheets felt further than any distance Matt could conceptualize, as he tried to recall the already fading sense memory of Jay’s face pressed against his thigh. Jay continued singing, still in the shower, still oblivious. For some reason, softly, as if worried about being caught even here alone, Matt quietly sang along.