Whatever Comes First

by M. K. Lee

  "We have enough lube and condoms for the weekend, so we've got the essentials," Joel tells him, winking as he pats the rucksack over his own shoulder.

  "Practical," Matthew retorts as he puts the shower gel back in the bottom of the trolley, laughing again as that slight bend over has Joel wolf-whistling at him and pretending to check him out.

  "Got to be," Joel shrugs with a vague wave of his hand. "You put all this temptation on display making me want you. What else am I supposed to do?" He then winks again, and turns to make his way down the aisle. It takes Matthew a long few seconds of grinning to himself before he can follow, nudging into his side when he catches up.

  "Kaitlin loves these things," Joel tells him when they round the corner, picking up a box of plasters with Disney characters. "Second she knows you've got them, she's got a poorly," and Matthew laughs again as Joel fakes a pout while holding up a finger, plucking the box from his hand to toss it into the trolley.

  "Your niece?"

  "Yeah," Joel sighs with an affectionate smile, tilting his head towards the wine aisle then helping to steer the trolley elsewhere when Matthew shakes his head. "Donna says she scraped her knee when she fell off a bike a couple of days ago. If I show up with these when I go to their place for dinner on Monday, I don't know if I'll get through the door before it'll be all Uncle Joel Uncle Joel come look at my poorly."

  Matthew thinks of the picture Joel sent him last Monday, when he'd been having dinner with Sarah and Joel had been with his sister, and has the distinct impression Joel's niece has him wrapped firmly round her little finger. Matthew tells himself he hasn't looked at the picture several times since and found the sight of Joel and Kaitlin covered in glitter cute.

  "You want to try that pork thing with the satay sauce?" Matthew asks, turning them down another aisle as they look for enough food for the weekend.

  "I do," Joel agrees with enthusiasm, "though we should maybe get some mushrooms or something to go with it; maybe peppers."

  "Both," Matthew decides, and they're turning back around to return to the grocery section. As they make their way around the supermarket, continuing to talk about the things they've not already caught each other up on, Matthew quietly observes Joel and the way he keeps returning to the trolley with items that are obviously meant for Matthew's apartment beyond their weekend. There's the ham he usually has in his sandwiches, the biscuits it's his turn to take to work, and the pizza he normally has when he gets back late from uni and can't be bothered to cook. Joel knows him, knows all these small details about him, and Matthew knows that were they to be shopping on the way to Joel's place instead of his, he'd be able to do the very same thing for him.

  It puts an affectionate warmth in his stomach, and it's so strong that it overwhelms the surge of panic he often has for the reminder that he's caring too much. But Joel is oblivious to any of his internal debate. He's dropping his head down on his shoulder in the queue for the checkout, swirling his thumb over the back of Matthew's hand when he snatches up some of their bags once they've paid, and even rearranging those bags into one hand so he can hold Matthew's hand as they walk. Matthew saviours every moment of it, trying to behave as though it isn't making his heart thud with excitement. And pleading with himself not to care too much.

  *~*~*

  At the sound of the whistle, Matthew takes the opportunity to catch his breath, grimace at the muddy pitch beneath his feet, then turn to seek out Joel where he's watching on the sidelines. The sound of the argument behind him over whether something should or shouldn't have been a penalty doesn't touch him. This Tuesday night football to him is nothing but a bit of fun and exercise, but for some of the players it is almost as crucial as an actual premiership match from the way they get riled up over it.

  Matthew's not interested though, attempting to rein in the brightness of his grin for Joel as he watches him, hesitantly raising his hand to give a half-wave that's returned with enthusiasm. He wants to tell himself he doesn't know how this happened, how Joel came to be standing here wrapped up against the drizzly weather watching him run around a pitch and kick about a football like he actually wants to be there. But he does, of course he does, since he's the one that suggested it, as he's found himself suggesting a dozen other things that are far beyond their arrangement.

  It's getting harder to pretend he doesn't want more from Joel. In fact that's an understatement. It's already beyond hard to feel any other way, because for all intents and purposes the way they act together is like they're in a relationship. Drawing that line is impossible when Joel beams back at him the way he's currently doing.

  Back to the game and Matthew chases the thoughts away, adamantly not remembering the glee on Joel's face and in his voice when he mentioned coming to watch Matthew play. He'd actually suggested that he join in, but got distracted by the thought of Joel in a tight-fitting football kit and gleaming with sweat, then admitted he didn't think he could keep his hands off him if he was to take part. Joel's answering growl and need to be in him as quickly as was possible at the suggestion was coupled with Joel admitting he'd been fantasising about seeing him play ever since he'd mentioned playing football.

  They win the match, and Matthew has just enough presence of mind not to charge over in demand of a kiss in victory. Instead he gives Joel what he hopes is a private wink then heads to the showers with the rest of the guys, keeping his attention firmly elsewhere.

  Pete and Simon from work are both on the team and call out encouragement for him to shower the second he grabs his things out of his locker, telling him he stinks. Matthew pays them back in kindness for their commentary by throwing his sweat-drenched clothes at them the second they try to dress. The three of them have come to spend a fair amount of time outside of work together because they all get on well, and there's little about each other's lives that they haven't already shared. It's part of the reason Matthew's a little nervous about them meeting Joel in the pub afterwards, because despite how much time he spends with Joel he's so far managed not to mention him at all to them. Matthew's planned about a thousand answers and retorts for anything they may or may not say to either him or Joel, and his stomach has been in vague knots about after football since he woke up this morning.

  But, so far so good, he tells himself an hour or so later. Everyone's getting on well, accepting Joel into the mix with nothing more than passing interest, jokes about him being a rugby guy instead of a football one, invites to join the team to see if he's any good, and questions about his work.

  The conversation drifts to talk of the weekend. Pete and Simon ask after Sarah when Joel tells them the three of them spent last Saturday with a takeaway and a few DVDs at Matthew's. He leaves out the part where Sarah spent the night on the couch while they fucked slow and sensual a few feet away in his bed so she wouldn't hear them. Matthew does shift in his seat though at the image the reminder gives him, and smiles to himself at the roughness of his shirt against his collarbone as he moves, where Joel sucked a bruise that same night. He's been careful about not prodding at it too often, losing himself in memories of exactly how it got there, to keep curious eyes from noticing it and asking questions.

  "Sarah still moping over the fucker who dumped her?" Pete asks a little later, and Matthew's happy to be telling him that no, Sarah's good, Sarah's great even, having been cautiously dating the guy they'd met at a house party weeks ago. Pete looks a little disappointed but shrugs, indifferent, then looks between the two of them with a wink. "She approve of your new boyfriend then, I take it?" he says, grinning at Matthew. "Fairly sure she'd have gouged your eyes out by now if she didn't," Pete directs at Joel. "She's feisty, that one. Wouldn't mind doing a round with her."

  "Hey," Matthew barks out, his heart racing, desperate to gauge Joel's reaction. "Firstly, that's my best friend you're talking about, not one of your conquests. And second, boyfriend? Can't a guy bring a friend along without you jumping to conclusions?" Matthew laughs then rolls his eyes at Joel hoping to convey he's no
t expecting that of him; that he's not assuming there's anything more between them than what they have, and he's certainly not going to let his friends believe that there is. Joel's look back at him is impossible to interpret but Matthew's hoping he's said the things he needed to hear. The last thing he wants Joel to think is that he's been telling everyone about him behind his back, making this thing between them as big as he wants it to be when it isn't.

  The conversation, thankfully, shifts again, and if Joel's a little quiet Matthew puts it down to being with a group of people who already know each other well, leaving him the outsider. Matthew does his best to include him in what they're saying and even nudges against his arm in solidarity. The way Joel looks down at where they're touching has Matthew pull back hastily and makes worry start to churn in his gut.

  They walk home together because it's something they've got used to doing, taking a now-familiar route to Joel's before they get to Matthew's. Only this time, so very different from previous occasions, there's a frostiness between them. Joel's answers are clipped and careful, as though he's weighing each word he says before he answers him.

  They're standing awkwardly outside Joel's apartment block a little apart from each other. Normally at this point there's a hug, and depending on the time of night a kiss that's either sweet or sinful. But Joel's just watching Matthew in a way that's got him nervous. He licks his lips repeatedly, and Joel's eyes zero in on them.

  "CCTV's out in the lobby," Joel announces out of nowhere. Matthew doesn't know how to respond, but then Joel's reaching forward, though not coming closer, and cupping him through his joggers. "How quickly do you think I can get you to come?"

  Matthew opens his mouth to speak but Joel cuts him off by squeezing again, then pulling and pinging his joggers waistband back, and telling him to follow. The second they're in the lobby of the building, which has never been particularly well lit, Joel is on him, kissing him furiously. "Might as well get each other off whilst we're here, right? No point in us meeting up otherwise, is there?"

  Matthew wants to protest, pull back, perhaps break a little inside at the coldness of both Joel's tone and his words. But then Joel's tongue is in his mouth in a demanding slide and his hands are yanking down his joggers and boxers as well as unzipping his own jeans, and sinking to his knees.

  "Gonna let me suck you?" Joel asks, staring up at him and already mouthing over his length.

  "You don't have to—"

  "But I want to," Joel immediately tells him, flicking out his tongue and reaching to grip around his base as he continues to mouth over him, humming against his hardening shaft. "I bet there's no one else who knows all the ways to get you hard. I know there isn't."

  Matthew opens his mouth to speak, but then Joel is circling his tongue over his head and ducking a little, then mouthing over him repeatedly until he's hard enough to take into his mouth. Matthew's hand flexes to thread through his hair, but he doesn't feel like he's been invited to touch. In fact, when he looks down after splaying his legs as Joel's insistent hands guide him to do, he sees Joel is jerking himself off. So much for getting each other off, he thinks, then is groaning out hard at a particularly hard suck.

  Joel stands then, kisses him just as furiously as before, then raises his hand and licks over it a few times before taking them both in hand with his own answering groan.

  There is a moment when he is softer with him, kissing him gently, even pausing to drop their foreheads together and sigh against his mouth. But then he's pulling back, his face rearranging behind a seething mask as he watches Matthew, working them both until they're coming within seconds of each other and sagging a little.

  Joel stares at him for another second then steps back, grimacing at the mess on his hand and zipping himself up. In a daze, Matthew's tucking himself back in and wincing at the stickiness of himself. Then Joel's mumbling a goodbye and turning away from him, telling him he'll see him later.

  It takes Matthew a few breaths before he can propel himself away from the wall he's just been shoved against and drag himself back outside. He walks home in that same daze, going through the motions of a shower, getting things ready for the morning, feeling somewhere between numb and sick at what feels like the now certainty of Joel clearly only being in this thing for the sex. There's never been a time in Matthew's life when he's wanted more to have been proved wrong.

  When he gets into bed, wide awake and knowing there's no chance of sleeping, Matthew reaches as he always does for his phone, hoping against hope there's a message waiting from Joel with at least a goodnight to go some way to ease his worry. When there's nothing there from him Matthew fires off his own message, making a point of going through his other messages and notifications telling himself he's not buying Joel more time to answer him. But even after all of those, and frequent checks until something like two in the morning, Joel doesn't message him once.

  *~*~*

  Matthew wakes with a jolt the next morning, immediately reaching for his phone and feeling bile rise in his throat when there are no messages there. He talks himself in and out of a hundred reasons for it, of ways to contact Joel nonchalantly if he doesn't hear from him like he usually does before he gets to work. As he's leaving he decides he'll be the first to message because he can't wait. They don't take it in actual turns for things like that but either one of them usually sends something through before they start their days. He sends a message that he's rehearsed in his head a few times over that's uncomplicated, bemoaning the bad weather and wishing Joel a good day.

  It's not until after ten he receives an answer. Matthew's spent that hour definitely not working like he should be, making up scenarios for why Joel might not be answering or the things that could be holding him up. It's a picture, he realises with his stomach flipping as it loads. Joel's hard cock fills the screen with a message beneath it reading, "Tell me what you'd do to this if you were here."

  Giving up all pretence of working and not caring about the inappropriateness of what he's doing, Matthew spends the next ten minutes giving a very detailed response that's leaving him squirming in his seat himself. A little later and his phone buzzes with another message, this time of Joel's spent cock and his come splattered stomach. The message reads "Hope this helps you get off," and nothing else. No kisses or smiley faces or anything else he's come to expect.

  Matthew feels his stomach turn over and a wave of grief rush through him. Of course he shouldn't expect anything else from him. Joel's never wanted that—never wanted him like that. "I'll send one back in return later," Matthew types back rapidly, restraining himself from the affection he usually puts in his messages. Joel replies with a single, "Sure," that has Matthew's heart in a grip. He's desperately trying to accept that they really are nothing but fuck buddies. But up until yesterday evening, they'd been so sweet with each other on top of all of that. It's so hard to reconcile.

  Matthew's day drags painfully slow, their conversation from the night before playing over and over for him on a taunting loop. He accepts he pushed Joel too far by inviting him along to be amongst his friends and thinks of ways to apologise to him for it. Tries to imagine how he's going to claw back this mistake he's made and take them back to the way they were this time yesterday.

  By the time Matthew gets home, he is miserable. He's not received a single further message from Joel and hasn't been able to answer Sarah's messages with anything but limited enthusiasm. He's tired, bone weary for no good reason but his sadness, and wishes to anything that might be listening that one day he might be good enough for someone to care about him back the way he's let himself care about Joel.

  After a meal he forces himself through without tasting, Matthew's heart skips a beat at a message appearing on his screen. Joel's message is blunt. "Thought you were sending me a pic back," and nothing else. Matthew holds on to the fact that he's even requesting one in the first place as though it's something precious.

  With shaky hands, Matthew decides to make it a good one. "Soon," he f
ires off, and rushes to his bedroom. Then he's stripping down, filling his mind with all of his favourite material to get himself hard. If every bit of that material's Joel, he has no one to blame but himself. Matthew reaches for the lube and slicks himself up. He checks the battery on the phone and records a short blast of video of him stroking himself over slow. He does this until he receives a message back from Joel saying nothing but, "Keep going." Matthew decides he has to take this up a notch and reaches for the lube all over again.

  Arranging the phone to get what he hopes is the best angle, Matthew circles his fingertip over his hole then dips it in. He's got the volume up as high as it will go, and hopes that if Joel can't hear the way he's moaning as he fucks himself open, he'll at least hear the slickness of him sliding his fingers in. Matthew's a little rough with himself, hissing a little at the sting as he forces in a third finger quicker than he's ready for. He does it between videos so Joel won't notice, not that he's entirely sure he'd be bothered if he's hurting himself, Matthew thinks, feeling his cock soften at the thought.

  Immediately pulling his fingers out of his hole Matthew's fisting himself, pumping his cock full again with quick twists until he's harder. Then he's back to sliding his fingers inside him, videoing when he nudges at his prostate, and thrusting his hips down on his hand. Matthew sends another blast of video opening himself up a little more but by now is too frantic to do much but come. He starts thrusting his fingers deep and hard inside himself as he strips his cock, wishing he had a free hand to record this for Joel as well.

  When he comes, it's hard and so good, feeling his hole fluttering around his own fingers. He keeps them inside him and grabs for the phone, shooting a video of him opening his legs up wide for Joel to see where his fingers are, then moves it up to show his spent cock and come splattered chest. He lays back, panting a little, too worn out for too much thinking to bring him down. A few minutes later he receives a message from Joel that's a string of praise and thank yous. Matthew chooses to see it as a good thing, blatantly ignoring that there's still no affection in his words.