Whatever Comes First

by M. K. Lee

  *~*~*

  The next day, more of the same follows. Matthew tries to ask Joel about his day, or what he's doing, but the only replies are sexual in nature, things like, "Thinking about a good hard fuck," and, "Really wish there was a mouth under my desk sucking me off right now." Once or twice Matthew makes offers to help him with that, holding his breath for the message that is Joel telling him he doesn't want to see him in person anymore. When he receives a, "Sure, why not, you know what I like doing to my dick," Matthew feels cold, and used—even though technically that is all they've been doing to each other all this time. It's no one's fault but his, Matthew repeatedly tells himself.

  Still, the back and forth between them does continue, even if it is more clinical and cold than what Matthew's come to expect. He's still enjoying it, still wanting this thing between them. But every new message that is nothing but carnality and vulgarity not only seems a little out of character to Joel's usual playful smut interlaced with affection, but also leaves a bitterness on Matthew's tongue. Matthew is hurting, so very much, unable to shift the feeling that he's been rejected. In an attempt to stop himself spiralling he then refuses to acknowledge the depth of his feelings for Joel, abruptly cutting off any and all of Sarah's questions about him.

  Joel messages that he's bored, that he wants to hear about some of Matthew's fantasies. What he wants to tell him is that all he's fantasising about right now is cuddling up to him in bed and falling asleep with him, but he doesn't think Joel will appreciate that. Instead he selects a few of his favourite things they've already done together, and a couple more he wants them to try, and it seems to be exactly what Joel wants to hear—especially if the come-covered fingers in his picture are anything to go by.

  Matthew smiles, makes a comment about looking forward to feeling him come inside him, or coming inside him with nothing between them, about how much the thought of seeing come seep out of his hole and him pushing it back in with his fingers makes him hard—even though that particular thought isn't really true, and certainly isn't what's getting him going. It's the thought of being that intimate with Joel that's doing it.

  Matthew's gut drops when Joel replies more than an hour later. His fingers are shaking when he rereads the message over and over again. "Barebacking is something for sharing when you're in a relationship with someone, not just fucking them. It's sometimes called fluid-bonding of all things getting someone else's come up your ass. Makes it sound like something out of my lab."

  Still trembling, Matthew manages to type out a message to Sarah telling her he needs to see her. Sarah doesn't hesitate in replying, tells him to come over that evening straight from work and asking if he's okay. He answers with, "No," and, "Don't cancel plans for me," because he suspects she's meeting Phil, the guy she's seeing. Her answer is simple and to the point. "You're more important," he reads, and it's enough to make Matthew want to cry.

  When she opens the door to him a few hours later, she takes one look at his face and is opening up her arms. She tugs until he's huddled into her on the sofa and she's got him tight, murmuring comforts at him. And Sarah makes it even easier for him by not asking so he doesn't even have to tell her why. She eventually forces food on him, covers him over with a blanket and mutters idle threats about breaking balls and cutting off appendages until Matthew's able to at least give a half smile. When he crawls into his own bed hours later he feels lighter if not better, not even answering Joel's message of, "Hope you're getting off thinking of me," making that two in a row to which he can't even type out a reply.

  Predictably, Joel messages first in the morning, not acknowledging his unanswered messages, instead making mild enquiries about if he's okay. Not directly of course; it's more a hope you haven't fucked yourself raw and tired yourself out thinking of me kind of question. Matthew's feeling cruel and wants to type something curt back, even something mean. He settles for, "At Sarah's till late," because he kids himself into thinking it might rile Joel up enough to get a response.

  It's stupid, he thinks, the idea that it would even bother Joel if he slept with Sarah now, given he means nothing to Joel. But if it pisses him off and gets his mind whirling like his own is, Matthew thinks, then it's worth it. Then immediately feels guilty for it and types out a rapid, "Best friend duties were required," which is the truth.

  Joel's response comes seconds later, making Matthew huff at his, "Is she okay?"

  "Sarah's fine," Matthew answers with, wishing he could underline her name or have some other way to show it was him that needed comfort. Joel answers with a good, and Matthew's reminded he doesn't care about him the way he wants him to all over again.

  A few hours later and Joel's asking him if he still wants to meet up, "For our usual," on Sunday at his place. Matthew groans deep, because of course he wants to see him. He also doesn't want to see him, he realises, closing his eyes. It's going to hurt so much more being that close to him but not really being able to reach him.

  Still, he tells him yes, and they message a little longer to agree on a time. It's not as early as he's often gone over to Joel's at the weekend, but, Matthew thinks, that can only be a good thing. Get over there, get fucked, then get going. That's all there is to it, he repeatedly tells himself all day, it's all there is to them.

  Friday night is the usual work night drinks. Matthew idly acknowledges with Simon that the guy at the bar is hot, since Simon's decided he's not gay himself but can tell when other people are. The guy gives Matthew a lewd wink as he passes and Matthew feels sick, unable to finish his drink, even goes home early. He spends hours staring up at the ceiling going over everything that's wrong with him.

  Saturday night and Matthew's in his and Sarah's favourite bar again. Except this time he's meeting Phil, cautiously approving of him when he sees how happy Sarah is in his company. He leaves them early as well, curled into one another and looking so good together it leaves him wistful. Matthew takes a long walk home, and again endures a sleepless night.

  Sunday morning, and Matthew's heart isn't in it, and neither would it appear are other parts of him either. Thinking of Joel only makes him sad now, not aroused like it normally does. It hits Matthew hard that he's lost that aspect of him as well as everything else. Still, he thinks, seeing him in person is going to probably make a difference, and gets himself ready with false enthusiasm.

  Joel's kiss for him is biting. He all but crushes him back against the door, and the claim of it stirs Matthew hard even though he is missing what he's come to think of as his Joel. He lets himself be led into the bedroom and stripped within seconds. And the problem is, Joel does exactly all of the things Matthew's previously told him he likes best. Within an hour he's been eaten out, fucked on a dildo, and pinned down hard as his cock gets sucked. Joel fucks him then as though on a mission to hit his prostate repeatedly, bending him over and taking him hard from behind, grunting his way through it though not uttering a single word.

  There's no tenderness between them when they collapse on to the bed together. They lay on their backs, a cavernous gap between them and so much silence as they slowly get their breath back. Joel offers him a shower which Matthew takes alone, then mumbles something about Matthew staying to watch a couple of episodes of a boxset they'd started watching if he feels like it.

  Matthew stays, not particularly because he wants to see it, but more because he knows if he goes home now, all he's going to do is mope and feel sorry for himself. They sit down on the sofa together and silently work through four episodes back to back. Joel reheats something he says he made yesterday that they eat as they watch, with Matthew's offer of washing the dishes immediately rebuffed. Another episode is put on, but halfway through Joel's hand is out and unzipping Matthew, pulling him out of his boxers and coaxing another orgasm out of him that Joel says he doesn't want himself. Matthew leaves a little later, letting Joel kiss him goodbye, feeling the lack of emotion in it and wanting to beg for them to start over, to go back to how they were at least, but doesn't have it
in him to even try.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Tuesday night after football, after telling himself he's ignoring the fact that it's a week to the day since he and Joel's relationship became its current unpleasantness, Matthew is leaving early after telling the others he's not feeling well enough to stick around for post-game drinks. Which is half true at least. Sarah keeps telling him he's lovesick and offering to pummel Joel repeatedly in the balls with her stilettos, and whilst the image makes him laugh, ultimately it makes Matthew feel sad and lonely. He looks down enough to pass as sick anyway, so he makes his excuses and leaves.

  Whilst needing to be alone but not wanting to be alone in his own company, Matthew takes, as he has been doing the past few days, a long winding route back to his apartment. It takes him right through the city centre, along pedestrianised streets past bars and restaurants with their typically few Tuesday night patrons. He considers joining them, thinks about drowning his sorrows for a moment considering he's not got an early start in the morning, then nods to himself with determination and heads to a bar that he's not been in since it had a refit. It's nothing special, he thinks to himself, taking in the new décor. When the barman sets his drink down in front of him, Matthew decides he'd rather be at home.

  Forcing himself to sip at it rather than gulp, Matthew works through his drink as he idly thumbs through Joel's messages wishing if he could feel anything right now, it would be numb. Self destructively, he scrolls through and compares the tone of what he's already thinking of as Before and After, as though seeing the obvious difference right in front of him is going make things better.

  When the glass is drained, Matthew slides it across the bar and stalks out, telling himself he's not purposely taking a route that passes Joel's apartment. But when he gets to the street below and looks up at his window, Matthew's assaulted by all sorts of memories that he has to close his eyes to, feeling so thoroughly dejected.

  He gazes up again when he's able, noting the lights are off and wondering if that means Joel's still at work. Matthew reaches for his phone and considers messaging him to check but stops halfway, leaving the phone in his back pocket and his hand idle by his side.

  Matthew probably wouldn't have noticed him if it weren't for the blast of noise spilling out of the bar opposite the apartment building as a door is flung open, grabbing his attention and causing him to look over in its direction. If he wasn't so finely tuned into everything about Joel, maybe his eyes would have glanced over the occupants of the bar with disinterest and he'd have been on his way.

  As it is, Matthew's eyes zero in on him, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs. Matthew takes in the way he's curved towards the guy he's with and the way he in turn curves back, sees the smiles on their faces, recognises a date when he sees one and feels rooted to the spot, abruptly feeling sick. He stares for another few minutes of torturing himself, noticing the way Joel looks down shyly when the guy reaches out to rest a hand on his arm. Joel is never shy with him, Matthew tells himself, astonished. It's like he's always expected Matthew to be if not submissive then at least to be the meeker one of the two of them. Like I've always been the needy one, he thinks to himself, with that sick feeling reaching his stomach. Matthew stumbles backwards and turns for home, furiously swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

  When he gets back to his apartment, Matthew turns his phone on silent without checking to see if he has any messages. He moves around his apartment as though he's never seen the place before, opening cupboard doors and running a hand over shelves, thumbs pressing into the thickness of towels in the bathroom and stroking along the softness of the curtains in the bedroom. He gets himself ready for bed on auto-pilot, far too awake to even attempt to sleep, instead dragging his textbooks through to the dining table for his latest assignment and finishing it in one sitting in the early hours of the morning.

  It's when Matthew wakes mid-morning that the rage hits him. He bunches his fingers in tight fists against the bedsheet, his jaw clenching to the point of pain as Matthew finds himself incensed. He reaches for his phone as though looking for further reasons to be angry. Sure enough, there are three messages waiting for him from Joel: he doesn't even look at the ones from Sarah because his anger is not for her and she does not deserve to be the brunt of it.

  The first message says, "Hope you won the football tonight. I went for a drink." Yeah, Matthew scowls at the phone, I bet you did. He spends a few seconds picturing Joel's night ending with grunts and groans and fucking that he's ridiculously come to think he's got reason to believe he shouldn't have to share.

  "I'm in bed fucking into my hand wishing it was your ass," Matthew reads next, livid, the evidence here that Joel possibly went home alone last night doing nothing to dull his mood. "Hope you get to sleep in this morning since you're not in uni until this afternoon. If you want a nice, slow fuck afterwards let me know; I'm free tonight." Matthew's traitorous cock surges at Joel's words but he ignores it, throwing back the duvet and leaping from the bed, so charged with furious energy he knows he's going to have to burn it off if he doesn't want to punch something.

  When he gets back from an uncharacteristic run, Matthew purposely ignores his phone, getting ready for uni by first taking a slightly too hot shower and then forcing himself to eat. He says as little as he can get away with all day long, shoving a not-yet-due printed copy of his assignment at a startled lecturer before grabbing some groceries from the supermarket through the self-service checkout, not trusting himself to avoid barking at someone who doesn't deserve it.

  When he gets home, Matthew grits his teeth, forcing himself to go through, read, and answer Sarah's messages, softening just enough to feel guilty when he sees her concern for him before having that softness wrenched from him after seeing two more messages from Joel. Over a week ago the frequency of them would have been normal, and Matthew would have been happy to receive them. Now, he's just furious, especially as the first message is of Joel's legs spread wide and his hole glistening open with a caption of "Looking forward to you filling this." The second is from a few minutes ago and reads, "Everything okay?" which has Matthew hurling his phone across the room, retrieving it moments later and checking it over for signs of damage before leaving it on the table as he begins to pace.

  Knowing he doesn't want to be in the apartment any longer, Matthew grabs his jacket and keys and leaves, thinking that the only thing he can do is throw himself into something distracting where he doesn't have to think. He finds himself at the cinema and buys two tickets for films he picks at random, purely because they follow each other in the schedule, figuring he'll have time in between to eat, and doing what he can to keep himself from his apartment until past midnight. He doesn't take in much of what he watches. He doesn't even remember the film titles. But at least the flickering lights of the screen and the noise filling the theatre keeps his mind half-occupied for a little while.

  Matthew's anger returns the second he picks up his phone from where he'd left it in his apartment when he sees not only another two messages from Joel, but a never-before-seen missed call from him as well. With an incredulous shake of his head, Matthew clears the notifications without even reading them, then gets himself ready for bed, telling himself he's going to sleep tonight whether he likes it or not.

  Matthew arrives at work early the next day clutching a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich which he eats while prioritising his piles of work. He needs the distraction, and by lunchtime he's caught up with all the things he's been letting slip by with how sorry he's been feeling for himself. By the end of the day he's up to date and even a little ahead, heading straight for his evening lecture without stopping to eat.

  When Matthew gets home he allows himself to check his phone, avoiding looking at Joel's messages as though he doesn't even see them there. The furious hurt he was feeling still won't leave him, though the target of his anger flips violently back and forth between Joel for hurting him like he has, and himself for ever allowing
himself to care about Joel in the first place.

  Friday holds the same pattern for him. Matthew wakes early after a fitful sleep, gets to work and steams through everything he has to do, surprising himself by finishing early and being told to go home, or hang about until they go for drinks. When he says he doesn't feel like it no one questions him. It's then that Matthew realises no one's really said much to him at all over the last two days, and puts it down to that anger he's been radiating. He slouches home after going to his local grocery store to pick up things he has no appetite for, indulging in a bath with a book and a huge glass of his favourite wine with the laptop blasting music at him from where it's precariously balanced on the closed toilet seat. He then lays on the sofa in nothing but his boxers, turns the volume up loud on the TV without even watching it, and promptly falls asleep.

  An insistent pounding on his door rouses Matthew over an hour later. He sits up blearily then jolts a little harder awake when the banging continues with increasing insistence, knowing his neighbours are pretty forgiving and his walls relatively thick, but it's got to be getting on in the evening and they'll probably not appreciate the noise. Matthew pulls the door open a crack, eyes wide at the sight of Joel standing there with his hand raised ready to knock again. They stare each other down for a moment before Joel's pressing his palm flat against the door and shoving it open.

  Matthew begins to protest but is cut off with Joel's yell of, "Where the hell have you been?" He wants to answer with something cruel, something biting. Instead all he can manage to do is quietly close the door behind him and turn around to watch Joel in silence. If Matthew didn't know better, the way Joel's eyes scan over him then is him looking to see if he's been marked in any way. It's that thought that reignites that rage in him and has Matthew standing a little taller, clenching his fists tightly by his sides, ready to argue back.