Chapter Text
Tyler spends the rest of that night—and most of the following day—in a varying state of guilt and shame.
It waxes and wanes. Some moments, it is so microscopic, Tyler can tell himself it doesn’t even exist. Like when Josh is laughing hysterically at the dirty (but mostly absurd) words Tyler comes up with, or when Josh is talking to him in his low, hushed voice. In those moments, he feels pretty good. One would even say great. Because their game is operating as intended: to be fun, and silly, something to pass the time.
Other times, it eats him alive from the inside out, convincing him that he is nothing but a filthy pervert.
Part of him knows it’s unfair—if dirty words are being whispered directly into your ear, you’re bound to get at least a little turned on. Even if it’s another guy doing it. He just had a natural, human reaction to something that is inherently arousing. It’s not like he got off on it.
But, then again, he’s not a teenager anymore; he hasn’t been one for a while now. There’s no biological changes or hormones he can blame anything on. Nothing to explain his body’s reaction to his male best friend talking dirty to him, even if it is all hypothetical.
Well, nothing but the obvious explanation, of course.
And Tyler really, really doesn’t want to think about that.
So, for now, he shoves it down, covered by the excuse that as long as he doesn’t act on it, everything will be okay. God will probably forgive him. He can continue playing the game with Josh, and sure, maybe he’ll get a little hard sometimes, but that’s normal. Sort of. Doing anything about it is the part that isn’t normal, so he won’t.
Besides all of that, there is also the fear that he’s making Josh Uncomfortable. With a capital “U”.
Being generally uncomfortable is simple and innocuous. Like when the tag on a t-shirt makes the nape of your neck itch, or when a picture frame is hung up on a wall a little crooked. You’re always going to know it’s there, even if you actively try to not pay attention to it, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s pretty insignificant.
Because that is the whole objective—testing the boundaries of what sexual things can be said in non-sexual settings, by people you don’t have a sexual relationship with. Making the other uncomfortable is the whole point, sure, but being Uncomfortable is distinctly different.
Being Uncomfortable is bad. Harmful, even. It’s burrs getting stuck to your skin after a nature walk. It’s debilitating nausea right before a very important presentation. It’s your parents fighting at the dinner table because money is getting a little tight, and your ten-year-old self begged your mom for the name-brand backpack when you went to the store earlier that day, and they’re calling each other names that you’ve never even heard of but you know are cuss word-adjacent, and you still have yet to tell them that you failed your science project, and you can’t even finish your knockoff Kraft mac ‘n’ cheese because you just want to go back up to your room.
Or something like that.
Bottom line is, he would hate for Josh to be disgusted by him. Despite how unlikely that felt when they started this whole thing, Tyler is starting to realize how quickly he could edge into dangerous territory. Because at what point do they stop sounding like jokes, and more like sexual advances?
It’s a very precarious line he walks. And even though they’re both playing the game, Tyler knows that it really is only him walking that line. Because Josh couldn’t ever make him Uncomfortable. He’s too… Josh. Just effortlessly amazing and cool and the bestest friend Tyler’s ever had.
So maybe he kind of screwed himself by agreeing to play this game. Which sucks, but it’s not like he can back out now. Josh still seems very keen on continuing it for the time being, so continue it he will.
Don’t get him wrong—Tyler is still having fun. Lots of it, in fact. But the inevitability of everything collapsing right before his eyes is looming right around the corner, waiting to strike at a moment’s notice. He just hopes he can prevent it long enough for when Josh eventually grows bored.
-
They manage to hold off on embarrassing each other for most of the ride home from the festival. Until the van rolls to a stop at a gas station, Mark hopping out to pay at the pump, and Michael going for a quick bathroom break. Not a ton of time, but Tyler makes it work—he gets Josh shoving his shoulder and sticking his tongue out at him before the meter says the tank is even half full.
Which ignites something in Tyler, and they barely get back on the road before he’s whispering in Josh’s ear again, despite two of their friends sitting just a few feet in front of them. Which makes it even more exhilarating than it already is, because they could get caught. And Tyler would love to see Josh try to explain away why he was talking dirty in a van full of dudes.
Tyler is sad to see Josh go home later that day. Well, he always is—there isn’t much Tyler would rather do than spend time with Josh. But he finds himself already missing the game. He misses the anticipation of it, the sitting and waiting for the other person to think of something better and strike. The effort it takes to steel his face and act like it had no effect on him. The pressure of having to come up with a new phrase neither of them has said yet. It’s exhilarating in a way he’s not quite sure he’s felt before.
So, naturally, that’s how they spend the most of their time when they hang out together that following week.
Almost every other day, Josh will come over after work, sometimes bearing Taco Bell, and chock-full of new phrases to try out. They’ll play around with music in the basement for a little while, maybe watch some TV, talk about the usual stuff like work or upcoming shows. Until one of them gets a little too antsy and says the first phrase, and they’re off to the races.
He hasn’t been keeping score, but Tyler swears he’s in the lead. Or maybe his brain is just clinging to the image of Josh, jaw dropped and red in the face, right before he shoves Tyler and concedes.
Tyler skips church that following weekend.
He texts Josh in the morning that he has a stomachache, to which Josh selflessly offers to come over and bring soup. Tyler turns him down. How can he tell Josh that he’s actually part of the reason he’s skipping? “I actually can’t go because the idea of facing the Lord after getting hard from you telling me you want to shove your dick down my throat makes me want to spontaneously combust. Sorry for lying to you.”
He feels awful for lying. Josh doesn’t deserve it. Josh, who brings people soup when they’re sick and gives friends his swim trunks because they said they liked them. He is simply too good.
The worst part is that it isn’t even Josh’s fault. Tyler’s the one reacting this way. Tyler’s the one who can’t control himself just because someone whispered some words into his ear. Josh is fine. He’s just playing the game they both agreed to and obviously isn’t feeling any type of way about it.
He spends most of the day in bed. Which really doesn’t do much other than emphasize the point that this whole thing is becoming a problem. Every time he thinks about getting up and working on music, or doing the dishes he was supposed to do last night, or even just going to the bathroom, his mind wanders off to places he struggles to crawl back from.
The feeling of Josh’s breath against the skin of his neck. The way his voice seems to scratch an itch in his brain Tyler didn’t even know he had. The weight of the words as they land, increasing his heart rate twofold and sending too much of his blood supply southward.
Yeah, he really should have ended this game, like, yesterday.
-
A few days later, Tyler’s sitting on the couch in the living room, along with Josh, Mark, and Chris. They watch Chris as he plays the new Elder Scrolls game he just picked up from GameStop. Well, Josh isn’t exactly watching; he’s not a huge video game guy. And, truthfully, Tyler’s only half paying attention, far too preoccupied with his own thoughts and the funny things Josh occasionally leans in to show him on his phone. So it’s really just Mark, who asks a million questions and comments on every little event that happens onscreen.
Tyler silently watches Chris meander around the first boss fight when he feels the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He shifts to dig it out, and is shocked to see Josh’s name on the screen, despite being about three feet away from him, on the same couch.
Josh: How are you feeling?
Tyler just stares at it for a few seconds. Why would Josh text him that? He’s right there. He could just ask him out loud.
But when Tyler looks back up at Josh, he’s already got his phone face-down on his chest, seemingly very intrigued by Chris’s character shooting arrows at a giant dragon.
Confused, Tyler types out his response.
Tyler: fine? why?
Those three dots pop up immediately, followed by another message.
Josh: No reason.
Tyler: ok weirdo
Josh: I am pretty horny rn tho.
Ah. So that’s what this is.
Something in Tyler’s gut twists. Doing it over text is new. Part of him is almost disappointed that the verbal portion is being omitted—not that he’d ever admit it. But the other part, the part that's more rational and of sound mind, knows it’s definitely safer like this. No risk of anyone overhearing and vastly misunderstanding the nature of their relationship.
Tyler: yeah?
Josh: yeah
Tyler: why don’t you just go touch yourself?
His fingers tingle as he hits send. Because now, the words are written down. Not just spoken, where they can dissolve into the air, like they were never there to begin with. No, they’re here, right in front of his eyes, made up of hundreds of pixels on his screen, staring back at him.
Josh: it’s better when you do it.
Tyler: is that so?
Josh: Yeah
Josh: want your hand wrapped around me.
Tyler’s breath stutters, if only for a moment. He can feel the heat climbing up his neck. His thumbs shake as he taps his screen.
Tyler: god, you’re so needy. want me to get you off?
Josh: yeah. Please?
Tyler: maybe i should just suck you off instead.
Josh: Tylerrrr, come on, don’t mess with me.
Tyler’s dick really does twitch at that. Josh used his name. They’ve never done that before. It’s genius.
Because they’re no longer imitating the couple from the motel room. Now, they’re Tyler and Josh, male best friends sitting on the same couch with their friends as they practically sexting each other like it’s no big deal.
No, it’s not a big deal, Tyler decides; it’s just a game. He’s the one making it weird again. Josh is clearly fine, probably snickering at his phone at this very moment, thinking he’s about to win.
Tyler: but you’re so sexy when you’re all flustered like this.
Josh: such a fucking tease. wish you would just suck my cock already.
Tyler: yeah? you gonna cum in my mouth?
Tyler might be imagining it, but he swears he hears Josh gasp. He sneaks a glance up, and Josh’s eyes are a little wide, and Tyler thinks he might even see a little bit of a blush on his cheeks. Totally has nothing to do with the July heat, and the fact that the rental house’s air conditioning has always been a little shoddy.
“Care to share with the class?” Chris says suddenly, his loud voice shattering their small bubble.
Tyler snaps to attention. The game is paused; Chris and Mark are turned back toward Tyler and Josh, faces visibly annoyed.
“What?” Tyler says ineloquently, his attempt at feigning innocence failing miserably. He clicks the power button on his phone and lets it drop to the cushion.
Mark’s eyes flit between them. “Are you two texting each other?”
“No,” they both blurt at the same time.
Welp. So much for not getting caught.
Chris puts the controller down, eyes narrowing into thin slits. “What’re you texting about?” It’s like they were passing notes during class, and the teacher is threatening to read it to everyone.
“Nothing,” Tyler says.
“That’s kinda rude, y’know,” Mark adds. “What could you possibly be texting each other that you can’t say out loud?”
Tyler starts to gnaw on his bottom lip. You really, really don’t want to know.
“They’re obviously talking shit about us,” Chris says, folding his arms across his chest. “Why else would they be so secretive about it?”
God, Tyler wishes he could tell them–perhaps that would be less painful than this. “It’s just music stuff.”
Chris just blinks back at him for a few beats. “That’s the best lie you could come up with?”
Panic climbs up Tyler’s throat like bile. How would he even go about this? “Don’t worry, we weren’t talking shit. We just have this game where we do dirty talk back and forth to try to embarrass each other.” Tyler would rather die.
Tyler can’t be mad at their reaction. It’s completely justified. If he were in their shoes, he’d probably go ballistic.
Before he had met Josh, he’d considered Chris and Mark his best friends. And then Chris introduced them, and Josh quickly slid into that spot. And then the band became just Tyler and Josh. They see each other at least once a day now. Tyler’s not entirely sure of the last time he actually hung out with Chris before today.
It’s obvious that the two of them get each other on a level that not everyone gets to experience. And even if Tyler drives Chris a little crazy sometimes, he still feels bad for him and Josh leaving Chris in the dust for each other.
Well, not for each other—just that they’re each other’s best friends now. “For each other” makes it sound like they’re dating. Which they aren’t. Obviously.
Suddenly, Chris’s mouth twitches into a slight grin. “We’re fucking with you.”
All the tension Tyler didn’t even know he was holding in his shoulders releases at once, and he sighs in relief. Thank God. Josh just rolls his eyes at them.
“Though, I am curious what you were texting about now,” Mark says, his questioning gaze lingering on the two of them before turning his attention back towards the TV as Chris unpauses his game.
For the next ten minutes, Tyler and Josh don’t say a word. Just stare blankly at the TV, too scared to even look at each other, let alone start their game back up. At least, Tyler assumes Josh feels similarly—he refuses to look over at him to check.
The energy in the room is charged. Embarrassment prickles like an itch beneath Tyler’s skin that he can’t quite scratch. He distantly wonders if that shoddy AC unit has finally kicked the bucket, because it is most certainly ten degrees warmer.
Now that they’ve been caught, Tyler feels deeply exposed. Like one wrong move could widen the crack of his precariously-constructed armor, and everyone could easily get a glimpse of what’s inside. What that is, Tyler doesn’t really know—but vulnerability is pretty much the antithesis of his whole brand, so he’d rather gouge his eyes out than take a peek for himself.
Tyler anxiously picks at his fingernails as he watches Chris’s character struggle to scale a mountain until he can’t take it anymore. He shoots up from his seat suddenly. “We’re going downstairs,” he says. “Um. For music.”
Chris must be nearing the end of his boss fight, because neither he nor Mark looks in his direction. Tyler’s already at the top of the stairs when he hears them say “okay” in unison. He doesn’t check behind him, but he knows Josh is following.
When they get to the bottom, and Tyler turns around, Josh is already doubled over and laughing.
“Dude,” Tyler says, pacing slightly back and forth. “It’s not funny.”
“It kinda is,” Josh replies between laughs. “You should’ve seen your face.”
Tyler shakes his head at him in disbelief. How is Josh not mortified? How is he able to just laugh it off like no big deal, like their friends didn’t just catch them talking dirty to each other over text?
“This is your fault,” Tyler says, pointing an accusatory finger right at Josh.
Still smiling, Josh’s eyes widen, and he points his finger at his own chest. “My fault?”
“We can’t do it around other people. Even texting.” Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose. “Could you imagine if we had to tell them?”
“But we didn’t. And we won’t have to.”
“You don’t know that!”
“They probably wouldn’t even care. Especially if we told them about the game. I feel like they’d understand,” Josh says.
Tyler tries to imagine a world where that is the case. Of Chris and Mark laughing with them instead of giving them judgemental looks. Maybe they’d even ask to join in, to make it a game for the whole friend group.
The thought puts a bad taste in Tyler’s mouth. He’s not entirely sure why. The idea of saying those words to anyone else, to hear them come from anyone else, just feels wrong. But with Josh, it’s silly, and fun, and kind of exhilarating.
“Come in your mouth, huh?” Josh says, and Tyler can’t help it, the grin is forming before he can stop it.
“Shut up, man.”
They’re quiet for a few moments. Tyler moves to go sit on the couch, eyes closed with his face up to the ceiling, trying not to imagine having to tell any of his friends about their game.
“That was a good one, though,” Josh adds, plopping down on the other end of the couch. “Caught me off-guard.”
Tyler shakes his head again, though a weird sense of pride washes over him. “Safe to say I won that one, yeah?”
Josh shoots him a look. “Says who?”
“Says me! You didn’t say anything back!”
“Uh, not sure if you remember, but we did kind of get interrupted.”
Obviously, Tyler remembers. He might remember it for the rest of his life.
“I’m still not hearing anything,” Tyler says. “Might just have to call this one a forfeit.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
Then, Josh is pulling his feet up off the floor and crawling across the couch towards Tyler. The image is so funny that Tyler starts giggling, carefree and devoid of all his previous anxiety. But that joy too is short-lived, because when Josh’s lips end up a millimeter from his ear, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he stops breathing.
“You still gonna suck me off?” Josh says, voice low and leathery. “Because I can’t stop imagining how pretty you’d look with your lips wrapped around my cock.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Tyler gulps, a visible shudder running down his spine. Josh is insane. Josh has gone completely insane, and Tyler can’t do anything about it, because that went straight to his dick. And if Josh is insane, then Tyler is completely batshit.
God, I am so sorry.
It’s pointless, he knows it is. Now he can’t stop thinking about it: being on his knees in front of Josh, a hand fisted in Tyler’s hair. Filling up Tyler’s mouth completely, pulsing against his tongue—
He shakes his head. It’s just the words. It’s just the dirty talk, and he needs to focus. He has a game to win. Josh has a proud smirk on his face, and Tyler wants nothing more than to wipe it entirely.
Maybe he could even get Josh all riled up, give him a taste of his own medicine. It’s not fair that Josh gets to see him like this, and Tyler doesn’t. Would Tyler be able to see the evidence of his arousal? He’s wearing jeans—
Wait. What?
He does not want to see that. He does not want to see Josh get turned on by something he said. He does not.
Where they’re at is just fine. The satisfaction of seeing Josh flustered is plenty for Tyler. Not to mention that Josh wouldn’t even have a reaction like that in the first place. Tyler only gets turned on because his minimal experience leaves too much to the imagination. Josh is so cool, he’s probably seen all there is to see, felt all there is to feel. A been there, done that kind of thing. The only step from here is making Josh Uncomfortable.
But the adrenaline has really started to kick in, and giving up is embarrassing, no matter how juvenile the game. So, he inhales deeply, reaching far back in his mind for something more shocking. Now, it’s Tyler’s turn to get all up in Josh’s space, to breathe down his neck.
It should scare him, how little time it takes—how it just gets easier and easier, every time they play this stupid game.
“Then what?” he says. He tries to replicate the huskiness Josh had to his voice. “Are you gonna fuck me, Josh?”
For a second, Josh doesn’t react. During that agonizing moment, Tyler worries that this is it—he went too far, friendship over, bye bye Josh. And it would make sense. He just asked Josh if he is going to fuck him.
They have avoided the topic of penetration so far, almost pointedly. It’s one thing to joke about touching each other, or even blowjobs. Making gay jokes with your buddies is practically a requirement for straight guys. But talking about fucking, and getting fucked, is something else entirely.
Maybe they’ve skirted around it because it actually does make Josh Uncomfortable. Maybe, instead of that rosy-cheeked coyness he’s reacted with so far, he’s actually repulsed by it. It’s not unlikely. Tyler is pretty sure Josh isn’t even into guys, let alone Tyler. In fact, Tyler struggles with the concept of anyone being attracted to him. Even his ex-girlfriends
The idea of… fucking any of his other friends—Chris, Mark, Michael, whomever—does feel kind of gross. Of course it does. So what possessed Tyler to make him think saying something like that to Josh is okay?
He scrambles to the other end of the couch, eyes locked to the carpet. His ears are ringing. Josh is going to get up and run out of the house any second now, Tyler’s sure of it.
There’s some shuffling, and Tyler thinks, this is it. This is the last time he’s ever going to see Josh. All because Tyler was hell-bent on winning this stupid, stupid fucking game; let his curiosity of how far is too far get the best of him.
Instead, the cushion Tyler is cemented to suddenly dips.
He can’t control the way his eyes flutter closed as soon as he feels the warmth of Josh’s presence by his ear. He clenches his fists where they lie in his lap, breath trapped somewhere in his throat in shock as he waits in anticipation.
”Are you hard right now?” Josh finally says.
What?
Tyler’s heart skips a beat. Is this part of the game, or is he genuinely asking? Something about the question sounds too normal, too directed. As if Josh were asking him what time it is, or what the weather is like today. It makes Tyler throb in his pants, and God, he is hard, straining against the confines of his jeans. Probably has been since their text exchange, if he were honest with himself.
Don’t be ridiculous.
This is just Josh playing dirty. It has to be. He’s getting more and more obscene with every new phrase, daring Tyler to crank it up just a little bit higher. Like they’re playing that Mario Party minigame where each player switches off pumping up a balloon, and whoever pops it loses. And he refuses to give Josh the satisfaction.
Josh backs away, but Tyler grabs him by the sleeve of his t-shirt before he can get far.
“So hard, just for you, baby,” Tyler whispers back, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
“I could fuck you right now,” Josh says, and for a moment, Tyler swears there’s something serious in his tone. Eerily similar to when they’re playing a show, and Josh has something important to tell him between songs. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to bend you over this couch and fuck you?”
Tyler’s dick gives another desperate twitch. It’s crazy how good Josh is at this, how creative he can get while trying to make Tyler flustered. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Josh was actually coming onto him. He isn’t, of course—he’s just playing their game, and appears very adamant on winning.
“And what if I do?” Tyler challenges, and even he is taken aback by his own bravado. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Josh’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The pale skin of his cheeks is stained pink. Tyler has the urge to hover his hand by Josh’s face, to feel the heat radiating off of it.
“Okay, I give up,” Josh finally says. “You win.”
Tyler just stares at him for a solid few seconds until he remembers that this is the whole point of the game—to win. For one of them to tap out, and then they can move on with their lives. They can go back to being best friends who talk to each other like normal best friends do, without innuendos and suggestive questions.
He lets out a deep sigh. He won, and yet, he struggles to even feel satisfied about it. Frankly, he’s just relieved it’s over. Any more and he’s sure he would’ve come in his pants, and that would be another set of issues he would have to deal with. Both the physical and the emotional mess.
Now, Tyler’s left with the aftermath: his dick aching within the confines of his jeans, rubbing up against the seam uncomfortably. Josh next to him, an inch away from their thighs pressing together. And a mental image burned into his psyche, one of his best friend doing unspeakable things to him, on the very couch they sit on.