by Jude Sierra
“Are we doing reciprocity or what?” Joaquim asks, turning a groan into a breathless whimper when his erection presses against Reid. “Can we take these off?” He pulls at Reid’s jeans with his fingers in the back pockets.
“In a minute,” Reid says, mouth busy at Joaquim’s throat, his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder. He licks Joaquim’s bicep and wants. He keenly, painfully, wants to taste every bit of him, to collect every moment of this with his hands and mouth, to tuck this moment away: a moment when he is just a boy, being touched by someone unfamiliar with the history of his skin. He pushes at Joaquim a little harder, against the edge of the pool. “Get up.”
“Uh, Reid, I think I’m already up,” Joaquim says, and Reid can’t hide his amusement.
“I mean up,” he taps the lip of the pool and, as added persuasion, kisses Joaquim. When he stops, their lips are still touching, and their breath is indistinguishable, one from the other. “I wanna blow you.”
“Here?” Joaquim’s voice rises a tiny bit.
“We’ve covered this. We’re being young and reckless.” Reid slides his hand up and down and wraps it around Joaquim, who does groan then, loudly.
“Fine,” Joaquim says. Reid hears the acquiescence and disbelief is his voice. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Shut up and let me do this,” Reid says, laughing as he and Joaquim both struggle to get him up and out of the pool without breaking away from each other. Once he’s up, Reid pulls his legs apart roughly and mouths at the wet fabric of his underwear. Joaquim’s hand tangles in Reid’s wet hair.
“Oh, god,” he whispers.
Impatient, rushing because he cannot wait to taste him, Reid tugs the band of his underwear down. When Reid pulls him into his mouth, he has to put his other hand on Joaquim’s lips to remind him of necessary silence.
“Shhh,” Reid says. “You’re gonna wake the geriatric squad.”
“Oh my god, no old-people talk. Go back to what you were doing.”
Reid bites Joaquim’s stomach before taking him in his mouth. Joaquim stutters as Reid takes Joaquim in as deep as he can. Reid drops down in the water; his hands spread Joaquim’s thighs farther apart.
Afterward, Joaquim slides back into the pool, loose-muscled and clumsy. In the moonlight, Reid can see Joaquim’s smile. Desperately messy, edging toward begging, he kisses Joaquim again. He unbuttons his pants and, inelegant and frantic, pushes them down only far enough to free himself. Joaquim pulls him close and presses a thigh against his hard length for Reid to rub against.
“What do you want?” he whispers into Reid’s ear. He nibbles at it, licks around his barbell piercing, and tugs with his teeth. “My mouth? My hands? This, rubbing up against me?”
“Fuck, all of it.”
And after, Joaquim’s kiss is a different sort, another new one. It’s soft, less question or demand, the taste not of newness or hunger, but of coming down, sweet with the tang of afterglow. Reid doesn’t remember when, or if, he’s been kissed like this.
“I do not know if I can move,” Reid says when they break apart. Joaquim skirts his fingers up Reid’s stomach, digs them in enough to tickle, and Reid flails, laughing and pushing him away before he can feel Reid’s scars.
“Nope, you can.” Joaquim says, and so Reid does the only thing that makes sense. He splashes him and then ducks underwater and swims away.
Despite the delicious post-orgasm lethargy stealing into his muscles, Reid is content to swim, to let Joaquim pull him under and then up, to play a little, because it calms him. Maybe it calms them both. Maybe this is the bridge between one impulse, a tiny supernova he didn’t see playing out the way it did, and the next.
There are definitely things Reid needs to tell Joaquim if they are going to go further, and there are other things he isn’t ready to tell at all. He doesn’t like the idea of lying, but the cost of trusting too fast, the heavy judgment of people who don’t understand, hurts. In the dark, Joaquim can’t see the fading spiderweb cuts along his torso, but in the light, they’re undeniable.
Eleven
Joaquim pulls Reid to the edge of the pool and then as close as he can. “I have to head home soon. I’m in the shop tomorrow.”
Reid’s forehead rests heavy and warm on his shoulder. He sighs and doesn’t say anything. He kisses Joaquim’s neck and pulls away to lever himself out of the pool.
“Fuck it’s dark. Where the hell are our clothes?”
Joaquim splashes out and walks carefully to the side of the pool where their clothes were tossed. Reid curses loudly.
“You okay?” Joaquim is searching for his cell phone, which he’d put on a table when they sat on the side of the pool.
“Stubbed my toe.”
When Joaquim manages to get his flashlight on, he sees Reid wringing out his shirt. “There’s yours,” Reid says and points to another black blob the flashlight barely illuminates. Still wringing out his shirt, Reid turns and struggles to get his pants pulled up and buttoned.
Joaquim puts his phone face up on a lounge chair and begins wringing out his own shirt. He doesn’t want to walk around wearing a wet shirt and he’ll never get into his wet pants. At least in a shirt he might look as if he’s wearing tiny swim shorts.
“Come on,” Reid says. He’s next to Joaquim. When Joaquim slips on his shoes and picks up his phone, he gets a glimpse of Reid. His hair is plastered down, and most of his eyeliner has washed off. Joaquim has seen him like this many times after class; now, though, he knows the secrets of his body more intimately. He’s tasted the unexpected sweetness that Reid shows in small flashes. He’s had Reid vulnerable, at the edge, trusting himself to Joaquim’s hands. Now, though, his expression is quietly happy and tired.
Reid turns on the flashlight of his own phone as they trek back to the condo. The moon slid lower in the sky as they played, and its light waned.
“Let me get you some dry clothes,” Reid says when they get into the condo. Joaquim shivers; it’s so much cooler in here with the air conditioner on. He strips his shirt off and places it in the sink in the kitchen. He skims out of his wet black boxer briefs too and looks over to Reid, but he’s already left the room. Naked is a lot more awkward when it’s not a show.
Reid comes out, dressed in a black shirt and gray plaid fleece sweatpants. His eyes widen when he sees Joaquim.
“I, uh, didn’t realize you’d left the room,” Joaquim says.
“Mmm, I don’t mind.” Reid pulls him in and slides his free hand down to Joaquim’s ass. “You are gorgeous,” he says, and then his blue eyes, bright and hot, are locked with Joaquim’s. Joaquim wants so badly to take this boy to bed again.
“You’re very tempting,” he says. Reid’s smile is wicked and sharp.
“A boy can try.” He kisses Joaquim, and then hands him the clothes. “The pants might be a little short, since you’re taller, but they’re a bit long on me.” Joaquim slips into the pants and shirt. The pants are fine, but the shirt is a little tight.
“It must all be in my torso,” Joaquim says, tugging the hem of the shirt. When he moves, it rides up and a strip of skin is exposed.
“Hopefully no one will see you go in,” Reid says.
“Well, I haven’t done what Nina calls ‘the walk of shame’ yet, so maybe it’ll help my rep.” Joaquim winks, and something in Reid’s face changes. Joaquim isn’t sure what that means. A glance at the clock tells him he must go, though.
“All right, I don’t want you to turn into a pumpkin or anything,” Reid says.
Joaquim puts his shoes on, and Reid hands him his phone and wallet, which he would have left on the counter otherwise. He’s exhausted and a little disoriented. He kisses Reid at the door and then again after he tries to pull away.
“I’ll see you later?” Joaquim asks against Reid’s lips.
“Definitely.”
R
eid opens the door and, when Joaquim turns to offer him a last smile, catches Joaquim by the hand and pulls him close for a rough kiss. “We’re okay, right?”
Joaquim frowns. The naked insecurity is at odds with both the kiss and the last few hours they’ve spent together. “Of course.” A hug seems to reassure Reid. His tight shoulders soften, as does his grip on Joaquim’s shirt.
* * *
Most of Joaquim’s shift at the dive shop is spent lost in daydreams. He’s alone for the morning: no customers and none of his coworkers come in to bug him. He breaks the no-phone rule for the first time since Bobby got them all in trouble and tries to keep an ear out for Mike.
Joaquim: Morning!
Perhaps not the most eloquent opening salvo, but he’s tired. He has to wait a while for a response. Of course Reid didn’t have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn the way Joaquim did. He has to work at ten, however, so Joaquim assumes he’ll be up by nine. It’s eight, but he can’t help himself. Not only was last night amazing, but Reid’s sudden vulnerability as they parted has stayed with Joaquim. Reid’s moods are very changeable and fluctuate so easily. Once we get to know each other better, I’ll be able to read him more easily, right?
Eventually, his phone buzzes. He has it on silent, but against the counter the vibration is startling. Joaquim’ll have to keep it in his pocket.
Reid: You mean, *good* morning, right? ;)
Joaquim: For sure. I’m tired, but fantastic?
Reid: Unsure?
Joaquim: Nope just searching for other adjectives.
Reid: Too early for adjectives. Too early for everything. Wanna stay in bed. Think of you.
Joaquim smiles. It’s an easy opening for a dirty comment. But he’s definitely not going to start something that’ll end in sexting right now.
Joaquim: I’m tempted to say that’s sweet, although for all I know, you are being spicy.
There’s a long pause, and, after he rereads his own text, Joaquim groans.
Reid: Sorry, I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to text for a bit there.
Joaquim: Oh good. For a second I thought you would never speak to me again, that was so cheesy.
Reid: Not at all. I need laughter.
Joaquim frowns, unsure what that means. He dithers, then types.
Joaquim: Everything okay?
Reid: Of course. I just mean in life. Everyone needs more laughter.
The bell that signals the front door opening startles him.
Joaquim: G2g customer
He pockets his phone.
“What is that smile?” Nina says when he sits down for lunch. He hoped the picnic table near their rooms would be empty, but he found her lying on a bench and staring at the overcast sky.
Now she sits across from him, arms crossed, gaze unwavering. In the sunlight, the green of her eyes is brighter. He bites his lip, unsuccessful in suppressing his smile.
“Nothing,” he says, but it’s useless, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Oh my god, you got laid!”
“Shhh! Nina, the whole complex doesn’t need to know!” Joaquim is laughing, though. He unwraps his sandwich and makes himself take a bite.
“Wow, dry spell over,” she says. She grabs the pickle that was separately wrapped.
“Stop,” he says, though he doesn’t mean it.
“This boy must be special, getting in your pants on the second date and all.” She moves to the side when he makes an attempt to get the pickle back.
“Nina, are you slut-shaming me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Honey, you are the farthest thing from a slut. Plus, I hate that phrase.”
“I know. I’m just messing with you.”
“Plus, you needed it. Not that you couldn’t have gotten laid about ten thousand times since you and Rory broke it off.”
Joaquim winces at the mention of his ex’s name. “I’m picky, okay?”
“And this boy is the one—”
“Nina,” he warns. He’s not sure what she’s going to say, but her opinion probably won’t be flattering. She wasn’t very impressed with Reid after that party. “I like him, okay? You spent time with him before the party. You liked him just fine then. You haven’t gotten to know him better.”
“And after two dates you have?” Skepticism doesn’t suit her, or maybe it’s just irritating.
“Listen, he was in my class; I’ve spent a lot of time with him. Please don’t make me tell you it’s not your business.” In an attempt to lighten a conversation that has become too serious, he swipes what’s left of the pickle and eats it despite her protest. “You’ll never get details that way.”
Joaquim: Nina needs me to take her dive tomorrow
Reid: You’re kidding
Joaquim: Nope. Ugh. She has a double ear infection. This keeps happening to her.
Joaquim waits for Reid to respond, but he doesn’t see the little dots that indicate a response. He watches his phone, unsure why Reid isn’t replying. He goes back to the TV show he was watching and waits for the phone to chime.
An hour later he’s wondering if he should message Reid again to make sure everything is all right. Maybe he got called away, but it’s unlike Reid not to send him a hold on or brb text. Joaquim doesn’t want to nag, but he also doesn’t want Reid to be upset with him about something he can’t control—or in general. They have talked briefly about the terms of his internship and how much it can restrict Joaquim’s freedom, but not in detail. It would be way too hard to type all that right now. And if Reid is mad, that conversation might seem insincere.
After another hour, when Joaquim is in bed and trying to fall asleep, he texts again.
Joaquim: Hey everything all right? You never responded.
Reid: It’s fine
Reid responds immediately. Joaquim waits for more about their plans for tomorrow, but gets no other texts. When he tosses his phone on his nightstand, it’s with annoyance rather than the nagging worry and confusion that had been dogging him. He actively resists the urge to send another text, because if Reid is upset, things can only escalate. Joaquim hates fighting via text. Seventy percent of what is said gets taken out of context.
The next morning, he still has no texts from Reid. Bobby is going with him on the dive, and they’re loading the boat together while he subjects Bobby to a one-sided monologue about the situation.
“Dude,” Bobby finally interrupts, hefting an air tank. “You’re killing me. Call him.”
“I don’t want—”
“Yeah, yeah, in case he’s mad. But how is not figuring out if he is going to help? You’re mad, but aren’t sure you should be mad. You’re upset in case he’s upset, because you didn’t want to upset him. You’re annoyed with the whole thing, but don’t know what he’s actually thinking. Man, that’s way too many feelings over things you could be wrong about.”
Joaquim is silent as they check their personal gear. “You have a point.”
“Thank fucking god.”
“Hey!” Joaquim exclaims as Bobby walks away.
“No offense,” Bobby says, and Joaquim swallows an angry follow-up. Bobby’s not the one he’s mad at. And he’s not a guy he’d go to for this advice anyway; he happens to be the only one around. They don’t have time for Joaquim to make a phone call now, but he shoots off a text.
Joaquim: Hey can I call you later?
He doesn’t get a response before he has to leave, but maybe by the time they’re back he will. Reid has the whole day off, which is why they made plans, so who knows what he’s gotten up to for the day. Maybe he’ll drive up to Homestead and shop, since he’s been complaining about his clothes being too hot for this weather.
The first of his divers comes in, and so Joaquim turns off his phone and stores it in his locker.
It’s not the best dive Joaquim ha
s ever been on, and he’s in a pretty bad mood when they dock. One of their divers was seasick, the currents were strong, and another of his divers could not figure out his buoyancy. Stubborn divers who get it wrong but won’t listen irritate Joaquim intensely, especially when their behavior ends with damaging the reef—which wouldn’t have happened if they paid attention to the pre-dive briefing and allowed Joaquim to help with their weights, which they insisted they knew how to adjust. Joaquim was unfamiliar with this group, and while he’s pretty good at maintaining composure and getting to know people when in diver mode, he went into the dive annoyed and upset. Nothing that followed helped, especially the vomiting part.
When they’re finally through and Joaquim goes to shower, he retrieves his phone and has a message from Reid.
Reid: Sure
Joaquim frowns, grips his phone hard, and practices deep breathing. Oh my god, what is with the one word texts? He doesn’t text that or anything else. Instead he pockets his phone and slams the locker shut.
Once he’s showered and in his room before his class, Joaquim flops onto his bed and calls Reid. After five rings, Reid picks up.
“Hey, you,” Reid says.
“Hey.” Joaquim clears his throat. “Is every—”
“I’m sorry I—”
They both pause, and Joaquim jumps in despite the awkwardness. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“No, I… I wasn’t trying to be rude. I promise. I had a hard night and I was looking forward to seeing you. Sometimes when things… get a particular way, it’s better for me to step away.” The last is said so softly Joaquim struggles to hear.
“A particular way?”
“I don’t, I’m not—” Reid stammers.
Something is definitely off; it’s clear in Reid’s voice, and Joaquim senses that it goes beyond a canceled date.
“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to,” Joaquim says.
