By Tom
“Jarrod?”
Knock knock knock.
“Jarrod, c’mon, I need the bathroom.”
“Go ‘way.”
“God, Jarrod, I don’t believe this.” Aaron slumped against the door, eyes shut tight. Jarrod
had spent the past forty minutes in the shower. Not only did Aaron feel the effects of an exceptionally
full bladder, but also he was worried about his friend. He’d never done this before. It was Valentine’s
Day, after all. When had Jarrod ever come home before the morning after, much less come home right
after work and clam up in the bathroom?
It began with a silent entry and sharply slammed doors both front and bathroom, and Aaron
hadn’t seen Jarrod since then. “Fine,” Aaron mumbled. “I’ll go outside, I guess. Being cold in the
fucking snow.” Knowing he wasn’t going to win, he headed for the back door. February was the
cruelest month, but today seemed to have an extra helping of bitterness.
The miserable atmosphere of the house had become immediately prominent while he had
been outside, and Aaron felt extremely bothered by Jarrod’s seclusion. He pounded on the door again.
Silence. “Come on, Jarrod, you’re racking up the water bill.”
“Go away!”
Aaron took a ballpoint pen from the telephone desk and inserted it carefully into the tiny lock
release. It clicked open quietly, and he took his time easing the door open.
The bathroom was dark, hot, and steamy as hell, pitch-black but for soft radiance from the
many pink night-lights Jarrod favored. They cast a fair amount of light about, pale an deep pink,
which sat over Jarrod’s quivering, soaked form in the tub.
Aaron closed the door behind him; apparently Jarrod had not heard him. He sat in the tub,
the shower pouring down onto him. He hadn’t bothered to undress; his black Harley t-shirt clung to
him like shrink-wrap. A chill shot down the back of Aaron’s neck, having nothing to do with the
temperature, as his eyes tracked the aligned knots of Jarrod’s spine through his sodden t-shirt.
He looked up as Aaron approached the tub, splashing a little in startlement.
“How’d you get in?” It wasn’t really a question; it was more of a mutinous mutter that Aaron
would have to be a fool to mistake as anything besides get out, now. However, Aaron was not afraid
of Jarrod, nor was he in any way a fool. He peeled off his own shirt, which was clinging to him
almost as firmly as Jarrod’s own, and sat next to the tub.
“Jarrod, what’s going on?”
“I can’t talk about it.” Jarrod sobbed for the first time in Aaron’s presence, his face in his wet
hands.
“You can to me.”
“You wouldn’t understand!”
“Maybe not. But that doesn’t make me any less worried, or make me care less about you at
all. What’s up?”
“Well, long story short, I was…” He swallowed, “seeing someone.” Aaron nodded silently,
not wanting to disturb Jarrod into withholding something important.
“And…and they…well…I saw…them…and…on the way to work…he dumped me…”
“He?” Aaron blurted without meaning to, regretting it before he’d even finished. Shit.
“Shit. Well, now you know.” Jarrod put his face between his knees, jerking with muddled
sobs. “There. Now you can just tell me what a sick fuck I am.”
Aaron put his hand on Jarrod’s shoulder and squeezed. “How could you say that?” He asked,
in a tone that made Jarrod look up. Aaron reached over and shut off the shower, looking at Jarrod’s
heavily shadowed, rosy profile. “How could you ever say that? Jarrod, you’re my best friend. I don’t
care who the hell you date, or who the hell you love…it’s nobody’s business.”
Jarrod gave him a weak, wet smile. Aaron ran a hand through his dampening blonde hair,
toed his shoes and socks off, and climbed into the tub with Jarrod, ignoring the protesting whimper
that accompanied it. He folded his legs and sat, with the slightest hesitation, in the ankle-depth warm
water that filled the tub.
“Look, Jarrod, I don’t care if you’re—anything.” Aaron mumbled, not finishing the way he
had originally intended by reminders of tact. “Point is, that’s stupid of you to think of that I’d care.”
“I’m not gay!” Jarrod exploded suddenly.
“Didn’t say you were,” Aaron said calmly.
Jarrod sighed and didn’t say anything; he turned back and turned the shower back on.
“Jarrod, please don’t do this…I know…it’s hard, and it hurts. It’s never easy. But
please…I’m worried about you.”
Even in the dark, Aaron could see thin ribbons of something dark threading through the water
like innocuous filaments of ink.
“It’s not that we broke up,” Jarrod whispered. “It’s just…I never thought of myself that way
before…never realised I was actually…attracted.”
“I know,” Aaron said softly, and somehow he realised that he was holding Jarrod’s wet
hands in his. “I know. It’s a hard thing to get over.”
“How would you know,” Jarrod challenged quietly, his eyes gleaming red in the pink of the
tiny glowing lights. “You haven’t gone through it.”
Aaron swallowed. He had been fearing this part of it as soon as Jarrod had let he slip. “I
have,” he said softly, searching Jarrod’s unreadable face for anything. His heart jumped hopefully.
“You have?”
“Yeah…well, to tell you the truth, I don’t really like girls all that much.”
Jarrod was silent for a moment. Too silent. The shower sounded like rain, slapping Jarrod’s
wet shirt. “You serious?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“I didn’t know.” Jarrod said contritely.
“Nobody really knows…except you.”
“Wow.” Jarrod pulled his hands from Aaron’s, pressed those hands to his face, and Aaron
thought he was crying again. He reached out and pulled Jarrod’s hands away, cupped the darker
man’s face in his large hands.
“Don’t let this get to you,” he whispered encouragingly. “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll take a
little while, but it will be okay. I promise.”
They were very close suddenly. Aaron’s heart jumped again in his chest, more optimistic
than ever. And it hit them both like a ton of lead: Jarrod had lunged forward, Aaron had tilted his head
forward slightly, and their lips crashed together in a clumsy version of a kiss. Tight-lipped at first, it
felt like those awkward tween years, tactless first kisses and diffident motions, each one hesitating like
a question mark.
Aaron recovered first from the surprise, ignoring the slight soreness of his nose where it had
collided with Jarrod’s, nudging the other man’s mouth open gently, until he felt him respond.
Gleaming wet black hair pasted over skin; smooth, pale-almond flesh against soft creamy
skin; sparkling beads of water glittering over bare skin and varicoloured tattoos; all cast pink and black
by the dim lights. Aaron pushed the black-haired man down into the water, onto his back, Jarrod’s
little sound of surrender catching him hard in the most unexpected way.
“There’s something wrong,” Jarrod whispered after a few moments, as he attacked Jarrod
with curious, delicious kisses.
“What?” Aaron immediately looked worried. He realised he was still pushing Jarrod into the
floor and began to rise off, before Jarrod caught his wrists.
“Don’t be going anywhere,” Jarrod mumbled as he pushed both Aaron’s hands up the front
of his sloppy-wet t-shirt, the shower rattling loudly against the saturated fabric, until Aaron pulled it
up and over his head. Jarrod looked slender, even wiry, but there was nothing skinny about him. He
was well-toned and Aaron knew that beneath the pink light, Jarrod’s skin was like the creamy flesh of
an almond, not tan but not quite pink. And he wanted to see all of Jarrod, too, no matter what colour
he was or what colour the light turned him. His heart swelled in his chest, threatening to burst, while
below, his cock was far ahead of them both, slightly uncomfortable encased in wet jeans.
Aaron could feel the rasp of Jarrod’s almost-shaven cheeks under his lips, felt Jarrod’s hands
slicking through the water on his back, but he wasn’t really believing it quite yet. He would wake up
in a few moments, and the way Jarrod’s mouth tasted would be gone, he would wake dry and clothed
in his bed.
He forgot all about that when Jarrod started fighting his belt and buttons. What a stupid day
to wear button-fly jeans, he thought. With no warning whatsoever, Jarrod pushed Aaron’s
jeans down over his hips, taking his cock in his hand and giving a slow, hard pull.
“Does it feel good?” Jarrod murmured, and Aaron nodded wordlessly, unable to speak just
then. He could feel Aaron surrendering control entirely, slaving to Jarrod’s touch and sensation. But
just as he began to sink into the rush of orgasm, Jarrod pulled his hand back.
Having fallen back into his own body, Aaron made short work of getting them both naked,
sliding around together on the slippery bottom of the wet porcelain tub, kissing and touching and
biting like shy sweethearts and starved animals.
“Aaron,” Jarrod whispered suddenly, gripping the blonde man’s biceps tightly. “Aaron, I
want…” But he didn’t seem to be able to finish. Aaron looked at him, ran his fingers over Jarrod’s
silky, wet black hair.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me…”
Aaron was glad for the darkness, because the blush that stained his cheeks was as red as the
bathroom lights. “Yes,” he murmured, the words having sent a fresh surge of adrenaline through him.
“Have you done it before?”
“No,” Jarrod admitted, and this time Aaron felt sure it was Jarrod’s turn to blush. “Will it
hurt?”
“Well, Jarrod…” Aaron muttered, not sure how to word it. “It might hurt a little, ‘cus
everyone’s different, but if you relax, it shouldn’t hurt too much. You’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” Jarrod whispered, and he carefully wrapped long legs around Aaron’s slender hips,
his heart thundering in his ears. Aaron was sorting through the bottles balanced precariously on the
edge of the tub until he found one, which he took down with a little sound of success. Jarrod had to
squint to read the label on the bottle, which he recognised as an unused bottle of baby oil they had
both assumed useless.
“It won’t hurt so much this way,” Aaron explained quietly. Jarrod quietly pulled the bottle
from Aaron’s hand, squeezed out some of the slippery substance into his palm, and slicked his hand
along the length of Aaron’s stiff cock. He tightened his legs around Aaron’s hips, ready and eager, his
blood hot with longing and excitement.
“All right,” Aaron whispered, “ready?”
“Yes,” Jarrod replied.
Aaron kissed him, once, and then Jarrod felt it; hands tight on his hips, immense pressure
against his most secret place, and then it multiplied, replaced by a force that was pushing him inside
out, desperately tight, crushing and explosive and divine. He moaned a little; it was painful, yes, but
only for a moment, then Aaron’s hips met Jarrod’s and that part ended as quickly as it had begun.
“God, Jarrod,” Aaron whispered softly. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jarrod replied, tangling his fingers through Aaron’s blonde hair and pulling him into
a kiss before relaxing himself as best he could again. “It’s okay…go.”
Aaron drew his hips back and drove into Jarrod implacably. The sensation was as wild and
unexpectedly wonderful as Jarrod had ever known; his body was shifting from torturous pressure to
thrilling sensation, although there was too much sensation to be put into words, so it found its voice in
a long, soft moan from Jarrod’s throat.
Aaron pushed into Jarrod harder and harder, keeping a rhythm but unsure if it would last.
Jarrod was so tight, so hot inside, it was impossible to keep a clear head with such pressure all around
him. The hot air and the patter of the shower were nothing on his skin, only the feel of Jarrod so close
and alive registered. He went harder, deeper into Jarrod, thrusting his hips powerfully, until Jarrod’s
back was rising off the bottom of the tub and a long ‘oh’ pouring from his lips.
“Fucking God,” Jarrod whispered, as the corners of his vision began to cloud with misty
glitter, as his body began to electrify. “Aaron…!” His voice was a harsh whisper, so unlike his normal voice.
Aaron distantly heard Jarrod moaning. His vision swam, and he wrapped a hand around
Jarrod’s cock as his rhythm went slightly wild, losing control. He jerked Jarrod’s cock hard, doubling
the sensation, and Jarrod’s body immediately twitched tight in the throes of a wicked orgasm.
Aaron’s body could hold out no longer, punished by unbreathable air and monumental
sensation, and with a deep moan of Jarrod’s name, he came hard, collapsing on top of the singer with a
small splash.
Aaron ran his hand over Jarrod’s wet stomach, dragging his fingers through the sleek white
that had spilled over his belly, washed by the shower.
“God, Aaron,” Jarrod whispered. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Can’t remember,” Aaron replied, a hazy grip on his senses. Jarrod settled his head in
Aaron’s shoulder for a moment, then sat back up and shut off the shower.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here…” he said softly, helping Aaron to his feet and passing him a
towel.
Jarrod tousled his hair dry, looking up at Aaron, and his heart thudded again in his chest, the
way it had when Aaron first kissed him. Aaron caught his eye and smiled at him, stepping forward.
“Thanks,” Jarrod whispered, placing his hand on the back of Aaron’s neck. The blonde man
leant forward and kissed him softly, sliding a hand down Jarrod’s smooth back.
“I’ve always been here for you,” Aaron whispered into Jarrod’s ear, pulling him close.
“Will you be there for me tonight…and tomorrow night…and the next?”
“Until you can’t stand me” came the laughing reply.
“Good,” Jarrod grinned. “Because I’ve got plans for you tonight.”