Chapter Text
"I know you aren't really here to give me advice, per se" Jack says, squeezing his hands together, "and you don't have to. Obviously. It's a weird situation and I—I don't want to make you uncomfortable. But you are literally the only person that I can possibly talk to about this."
"Well, why don't you explain the situation to me," Janet says, voice as steady and even as ever, "and I'll see if I have any advice I'm comfortable giving you. If you can't talk to any of your friends or family about it, just talking it out out loud might help you figure out what to do without any input from me."
Jack snorts in amusement. "Not likely. I have no clue how to handle this."
"Well, let's find out. What's going on?"
Jack chews his lip. He can't bring himself to look at her.
It's not like he's never talked to his therapist about sex before. Or his sexuality. His first therapist right out of rehab, not so much; the guy hadn't seemed homophobic, but Jack had never fully trusted him. But Janet is a butch lesbian, and he's always felt comfortable talking to her about that kind of thing. Hell, he even told her when he realized he was attracted to Bittle. He hasn't told her about his other feelings, but only because he didn't figure them out until a few weeks ago.
But, well. This is different.
"Um. Well. I… watch porn sometimes."
"Which is totally normal. Most men do, and so do a lot of other people."
"Sure," Jack says, nodding but still not looking up. "And I've learned a lot about, um, ethical porn from Shitty. So for the past couple years, I've mostly watched camshows. Because, like… the people doing those have more control over what they do and when they do it, and the money goes directly to the performer, and all that stuff."
"That's great," Janet says. "More people should think about the ethics of the pornography they consume."
Jack blushes. Apparently he can say what kind of porn he watches, but being praised for it tips him over into embarrassment. Well, he'd better get used to embarrassment if he's going to make it through this story.
"So, um, this summer I started watching this one guy regularly."
—
He'd found the guy one night in his hotel room in Chicago. The training camp was going okay, but he felt like he had nothing in common with the other not-yet-rookies—a bunch of guys as young as frogs, but not liberal enough or intellectually curious enough to go to a school like Samwell. So Jack spent a lot of time either wandering the city by himself or shut in his hotel room reading or watching Netflix. Or porn, occasionally.
He had a handful of favorite camshows, enough that just about anytime he was horny chances were good that one of them was online. His favorite camboy had just shut down his channel unexpectedly a week or so ago, though. And that night Jack was in the mood for a guy, but the two m/f couples he watched were offline. So he went surfing around for a new show.
It wasn't long before he found someone with the build he liked best—lean, lithe, muscular—and nice summer tan. The guy, who went by the name Richie (undoubtedly a pseudonym) didn't let the camera show anything higher than about 6" above his navel or lower than mid-thigh, but it was obvious from even that that he was a blonde. Jack preferred guys who didn't show their faces, since somehow it seemed like the ones with bodies he liked rarely had faces he found as attractive. This way, he could imagine Richie looking like whatever he was in the mood for.
There was no sound, which Jack didn't particularly mind. Half the time he muted it anyhow—he'd rather it be silent than listen to some exaggerated porn-moaning that didn't sound at all real.
Richie's cock was gorgeous. Not extremely long, but thick, maybe thicker than Jack's despite the fact that the rest of Richie's body was slim and compact, smaller than his own. It wasn't hard for Jack to imagine stretching his mouth around it, how the smooth skin would feel on his tongue, the ache he'd get in his jaw. He wanted to take it down until he gagged on it. That thought alone had him half hard.
That night was just a short show—Richie, kneeling on a bed with plain white pillows and a light green wall behind him, getting himself off. He went slow, but it still only lasted about fifteen minutes. But it was enough; when Richie covered his own hand with come and then smeared it across his abs, Jack followed not thirty seconds later.
He wasn't completely sure this was someone he'd want to add to his regular rotation. No matter how hot the guy was, fifteen minute jerkoff sessions would get boring quickly. But Jack figured he'd give Richie a couple more tries and bookmarked the channel.
—
"I mean, I don't know, regularly makes me sound like some kind of porn addict. But, like. A few times."
"Jack, I know you're not addicted to porn. I think I would have seen some sign of it before now. Again, watching pornography is totally normal, and so is watching it regularly."
"Right. Um, anyhow. There's a chat room thing. A lot of the camshows have them. I don't ever talk on it, but some people do. And he's got some app or something on his phone, so he can, uh… he can type in the chat with one hand." Jack buries his face, which might melt right off at this point, in his hands. "I promise I'm not describing porn for the hell of it, that part is actually very relevant later."
"It's fine, Jack. Whatever you need to tell me."
"So anyhow, he told us some stuff about himself. Nothing you could identify him by. I figured half of it was made up anyhow, just saying what he thought his audience wanted to hear. He said he was a gay college student."
—
The next time Jack tuned in, Richie started out by answering some questions while he stroked himself lazily. He was new to doing camshows because he'd had a roommate during the school year. But since he'd be living in a single next year, he planned to keep his channel going even if he couldn't do as many shows with classes. Someone asked how he kept in such amazing shape, and he said he was on an athletic scholarship and was actually a little soft, as summer was their off-season. The chat room went crazy with people looking forward to seeing this guy's body at peak condition, and though he never participated in the chats, Jack couldn't disagree.
Then Richie asked if there were any requests.
Remember, I'm new at this. Nothing too crazy!
A couple people asked for things involving toys, and he said he didn't have any but would look into it. He also made it clear that he would not be showing his face or letting them hear his voice, or doing anything else that might make him identifiable. Finally, someone asked to see his ass.
That I can do! Maybe next time I'll open myself up a little for you, but I'm gonna have to experiment with camera angles before I try that live.
He turned around and braced himself on the wall behind the bed, sticking his ass out toward the camera.
Holy shit. His ass was small, but round and tight. Jack wondered how much of it he'd be able to get in one hand. Richie spread his cheeks, just enough so they could clearly see his hole, then teased himself with one finger for a bit.
Jack was getting pretty close just from imagining what it would be like to fuck such a tight, well-shaped ass, and when Richie suddenly turned around to show himself coming hard all over his stomach, Jack came, too. Yeah, this channel was going into his regular rotation.
—
When Jack got back to school in August, there was a surprise waiting for him: Bittle, sporting a trendy new haircut, a tan, and shorts that didn't leave much to the imagination.
This is fine, Jack thought after tripping down the porch stairs. He'd been attracted to teammates before, and it's not like he'd never noticed that Bittle was his type. He'd just seemed so young last year, but now he looked… like an adult. Definitely like an adult.
But Jack could handle that. When he'd gotten to Samwell, there'd been another guy on the team, Brady, who was also incredibly hot and exactly his type. Jack had had no problem keeping his eyes to himself and treating Brady no differently from anyone else. Not that it was a problem for long; Brady turned out to be a big enough asshole to completely cancel out any physical attraction.
So Bittle suddenly being hot enough to occasionally wander into Jack's late night fantasies was not a problem.
Richie was back at school, too, his videos changing from the white pillows and green walls to a blue towel thrown over whatever bed he was on and blue walls. He also didn't have time to do videos as often, no more than once a week and usually less. When he did do them they were usually at times when Jack could tune in, though, which was great because by that point Richie was his top choice when he was feeling horny.
It didn't take him long to start attaching Bittle's face to Richie's body, even though he knew it was kind of creepy. It wasn't that different from regular fantasies, though, was it?
—
"Sometime after school started, he started describing this guy he liked, and it sounded like the guy looked like me. And, well, I couldn't see much of the cam guy but what I could see was similar to Bittle, so, uh… I guess I… enjoyed that." He pauses, not sure how much to skip over.
"You know," Janet says, seeming to mistake his pause for more embarrassment or maybe for having gotten to the thing that's bothering him and being finished, "it's also normal to form attachments to characters or performers in media. It's called a parasocial relationship, and as long as you understand the boundaries and what's real and what's not—"
Jack cracks up, which for him means an audible laugh.
"Okay," Janet says. She doesn't look annoyed at being laughed at; in fact, she looks amused herself. "Which part of what I said was funny?"
"Don't worry, I didn't fall in love with a porn star," he says, but then his face falls. "Or. Shit. Uh, actually. I mean, I didn't fall in love with some random guy because I was watching him… do things on the internet."
Janet looks at him curiously. "That's an interesting distinction to make."
Jack sighs. "Yeah…"
—
About halfway through the semester, Jack caught Richie's stream for the first time in a couple of weeks. Richie was in the middle of answering some questions, only half-hard yet, when Jack logged on.
Tell us more about old blue eyes, one viewer said. What do you wish he was doing right now?
Richie's body shook a little, like he was laughing.
For anyone who wasn't here last time, someone asked me what I'm thinking about while I do these videos. Or who I'm thinking about. And I mentioned this friend of mine I like to fantasize about. He's tall and broad-shouldered and all muscley, biceps like you wouldn't believe, your archetypal super-toned jock body with an A+++ ass. Dark hair, icy blue eyes. Just fucking gorgeous, he could be a model, no problem.
Most people had stopped typing, waiting to read what he wanted this guy to do. Jack was actually a little hung up on his use of the word archetypal; it wasn't the first time Richie's vocabulary had given away how intelligent he must be. Jack definitely found that hot. It took him a minute to process the fact that Richie had basically described… him. Well, that certainly gave his fantasies a new dimension.
Now I believe the question was what do I wish he was doing right now? Well, let's see. Sometimes I like to think that he actually watches these shows. He knows it's me but he gets off on knowing I'm right down the hall, doing this, while he's watching me in secret. But finally, one night, it gets to be too much for him and he bursts in here, horny as hell.
Richie turned around to show them the butt plug he had in. He claimed to be a virgin, though Jack figured that was probably just for the sake of viewers who got off on that kind of thing. But he did start out with a small plug that summer, saying he'd never had anything other than his own finger in there before, and it had taken him a few weeks to work his way up to a dildo.
Now he reached back and moved the plug around a little, probably rubbing his prostate with it. Jack imagined Bittle across the hall doing the same thing, Bittle getting hard imagining him watching, and finally started stroking himself.
Lord, if he came in here right now. He's probably in his pajamas, so I bet I could tell he was hard from across the room. Of course, those pjs would be the first thing to go. He'd climb up on this bed with me and get rid of this…
Richie pulled the plug out and tossed it aside, bending so they could have a good view of his open, wet hole.
And get his cock inside me instead, right here where you could all watch. Would y'all like that? If I did get a boyfriend, would you want to watch him fuck me, or do you like it better when it's just us?
The chat filled up with responses, mostly leaning very enthusiastically in favor of watching Richie get fucked. Richie didn't respond after that, though; he'd grabbed a dildo from somewhere off-camera and was working it into himself. He'd gotten rid of the phone at some point so he could use both hands—they never saw the phone; he always managed to pick it up and put it down without ever getting it in frame.
Jack watched the silicone cock slide in and out of Richie's ass, slowly at first but picking up speed. It was one he'd used before, one made to look realistic with veins and all. It happened to be about the same size as Jack's dick, which made it incredibly easy for him to imagine watching himself sliding in and out of Bittle the same way. Soon Richie was fucking himself hard, and Jack was matching him with his strokes. Jack came just a moment before Richie turned to show them his own orgasm.
—
Richie was good at avoiding identifying information. He wouldn't answer anything about what school he went to, his major, what sport he played, nothing. When he talked about his friend, which he was soon being asked to do almost every session, he kept the details mostly to physical description and fantasies. He talked a lot about wanting to be deflowered on camera, about how maybe he'd put a mask over his eyes so they could watch him choke on the guy's dick or the kinds of camera angles that would best show him getting fucked. Once he mentioned fucking the guy in his fantasies, but it was clear that most of the chat room liked thinking of him as a bottom, so he stuck with what was popular. Jack couldn't blame him for that, even if he did enjoy imagining himself being fucked by Bittle.
He was pretty sure he'd been hiding his attraction successfully. Bittle gave no indication that he knew Jack was occasionally jerking off to thoughts of him, with or without watching a Bittle-lookalike camboy finger himself to orgasm.
It wasn't like Jack was thinking about that kind of thing every time they hung out or anything—Bittle had become one of his best friends that semester, and Jack was way more interested in chirping him and making him laugh than in staring at him inappropriately. His laughter, in particular, always made Jack's stomach swoop pleasantly—maybe in surprise, since a year ago Bittle almost never laughed around him. He found himself seeking out more and more excuses for them to spend time together, whether getting coffee or frozen yogurt or sitting together on the team bus. Going out to eat with the other guys but not Bittle felt oddly disappointing.
Jack didn't give it all much thought until he was home for winter break. Richie was home, too, back in the green-walled room. He was doing shows almost every night over break; half, he said, out of boredom and half to make up for the rest of the semester. Jack didn't need to watch porn every night, but he caught a couple of them.
I hope you really can talk Blue Eyes into fucking you on camera sometime, someone said in the chat one night.
LOL Oh honey no, Richie replied. I definitely don't want to get your hopes up for that. The boy is hot and sweet and wonderful but also straight.
How convenient, another chatter said, your muscle-bound buddy who just happens to look like a model also just happens to be straight so you don't have to explain why we never get to see him or why you're still supposedly a "virgin". If you're gonna make shit up at least make it believable.
Jack never talked in the chats, but that pissed him off enough that he almost replied. Luckily, several other people shouted the guy down so he didn't have to.
Sugar, if I was gonna make him up, he'd be gay and I'd be telling y'all about how good he is at fucking me or sucking my dick but claiming he's too shy to get on camera. Trust me, my dearest fantasy is not to be crazy in love with a straight boy.
That got people's attention.
In love, huh?
"my dearest fantasy is not to be crazy in love with a straight boy" BIG FUCKING MOOD BITCH
aww i mean don't get me wrong im here to see u cum but aw
Unfortunately, the troll wasn't done yet.
Great, now you're giving us a fucking romance novel instead of the show we paid for. You're not even hard yet, stop talking and show us your ass.
Richie put one hand on his hip as the other chatters rushed to his defense again.
Looks like the show you paid for tonight was your own ass, getting banned from this channel, he said in the chat, and the troll's username disappeared from the chat list.
Jack couldn't help smirking at that, but even though the show of power was kind of hot, he couldn't really get into the rest of the show. His mind was spinning from the conversation, and he wound up closing his laptop less than ten minutes later, not horny at all.
He'd spent so much time imagining that Richie was Bittle that it was basically automatic at that point. As was inserting himself into the role of Richie's blue-eyed friend. Which meant that now he was imagining Bittle talking about being in love… with him.
And… he didn't hate it. In fact, as he looked over at what was left of the cookies he'd found snuck into his suitcase, he realized he maybe liked it even more than imagining sex with Bittle.
—
"So a couple weeks ago, this one night he talked about how he was in love with this guy. This guy who… looks like me. And it made me realize that, um. That I have feelings for Bittle. More than just thinking he's hot."
Janet puts up a hand to stop him. "Jack, you've known Bittle for a year and a half, and you've known you're physically attracted to him for several months, and this is the first time you've mentioned having romantic feelings for him. Are you sure you're not just overidentifying with this porn star because you've been projecting yourself and Bittle onto his fantasies?"
Jack shakes his head. "I told myself that. Not in those words, but, yeah. But the thing is… this isn't new. I've been…" He struggles to explain exactly what's been going on in his head with respect to Bittle lately. "I've been feeling uncomfortable lately. With how I feel about him. Like something doesn't fit. Because he's become so important to me, and I couldn't figure out why. When I think about not playing with him or living with him next year, why does it hurt so much? More than thinking about not seeing Shitty or Lardo, and I thought they were my best friends. He makes me feel the way hockey makes me feel. Like it's a fundamental part of me and I can't imagine life without it. But then it all made sense. I'm in love with him. As soon as I realized that… everything made sense."
Janet nods. "You have been talking about him more and more. So is that what this is really about? Realizing you have feelings for your friend?"
Jack pauses. "Well. Yes and no. I mean, if it were just that, I could talk to Shitty or Lardo about it."
—
The realization surprised Jack, and it could have freaked him out for a hundred different reasons—yet he realized he was actually pretty okay with it. He had no idea if Bittle had any feelings for him, and it would kind of suck if he didn't, but he'd get over it. What mattered wasn't convincing Bittle to love him, but showing Bittle how loved he was and how much he deserved it. If Jack started to think, along the way, that maybe his feelings were returned, he'd find a chance to talk to Bittle about it.
Of course, there was the fact that Jack had no idea how to express his feelings for Bittle without doing things that were overtly romantic like getting him flowers or kissing him or buying him gifts. He tried to help out more in the kitchen, but he'd kind of already been doing that. Probably because he was in love with Bittle. He tried to sit next to him in their new lecture together, but given that it turned out that half the team was taking it with them, it was kind of hard sometimes to do that without making it obvious that he was doing it.
Every time he tried to flirt, it came out more like chirping, until he realized that he'd been flirting with Bittle via chirping all year. How had it taken him so long to figure out his feelings?
He didn't tune back in to another of Richie's streams for a while after that one. It felt strange, suddenly—watching this guy who wasn't Bittle, but who he imagined was Bittle, now knowing why he wanted it to be Bittle. But a couple of weeks into the new semester, he found himself lying in bed, horny, and it was late and it wasn't like being in love with Bittle was making Jack fantasize about him less. So Jack gave in to temptation.
Then it happened—for the first time, Richie slipped up and his phone was visible for just a second.
The case on the phone was red and white and looked very familiar.
—
"But, y'know, lots of people probably have red and white striped phone cases, right?" he asks Janet, even though he knows now that it wasn't a coincidence at all. "Lots of schools have those colors, they probably sell cases just like the ones you can get for Samwell. It freaked me out, but like, I didn't really think this guy was Bittle."
"Sure," Janet says. "I can see why that would shake you a little, but that kind of thinking could get unhealthy quickly."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Jack says with a sigh. "I managed to tell myself that for about two days."
—
He'd closed out of the stream right after the phone thing. Then he'd felt stupid about it the next day, when he felt awkward around Bittle and realized it was because he was thinking but what if. What if nothing—it was a stupid coincidence and he needed to put it out of his mind.
So a few days later, when Richie had another stream he made himself watch just to prove to himself how much this guy was totally not Eric Bittle.
That went well until someone in the chat asked Richie to use his large purple dildo.
Not tonight honey, Richie had replied. I've got a game tomorrow, I don't like to put anything bigger than a finger in there before a game so I don't risk hurting myself.
Jack frowned.
Several chatters wished Richie good luck with the game.
Aw, thanks, y'all! I scored last weekend, so hopefully—
Jack slammed his laptop shut, his breath coming too fast. They had a game the next day, and Bittle had scored a sweet goal last weekend. It was all coincidence, though, it was all a huge coincidence…
And he was going to prove it, because Bittle was right across the hall and definitely not recording himself masturbating. At all.
Jack went out into the hall and stopped. Half his brain told him that this was stupid and he doesn't need to check because obviously it's not Bittle while the other half was freaking out about how fucking awkward it would if it was Bittle and Jack interrupted that and finally he realized that both halves of his brain were trying desperately to avoid checking which meant he should probably just do it.
He stepped up to Bittle's door. All he could hear from inside was Beyonce, which was pretty normal. No wonder Bittle kept the sound off—but it wasn't Bittle on the streams, so the music playing had nothing to do with that.
But the music would hide any lube-related sounds pretty well. If Bittle were doing anything, which could include just masturbating on his own like everyone in the Haus did all the time.
Maybe Bittle was in there doing that. Maybe he was watching porn, too. Jack probably shouldn't interrupt him, just in case.
Jack stood there for a full minute, as one song changed to the next. If Shitty came out of his room, or Ransom or Holster came down the stairs, they were going to wonder why he was standing there outside of Bittle's closed door.
He knocked.
"Yes?" Bittle called from inside. But… didn't come to the door.
Shit. Jack hadn't thought of a cover for why he was knocking.
"Uh… I was… gonna go for a run. You want to come?"
"Jack Zimmermann, it is nearly midnight and I am this close to finishing this stupid reaction paper for class tomorrow. If you want to be a crazy person and run in the middle of the night in January you go on ahead but let me be."
Jack stared at the still-closed door.
Wouldn't Bittle normally come to the door to tell him off like that? Why wouldn't Bittle open the door?
Because he was focused on his paper, of course. It was hard for Bittle to get focused on anything, and on the rare occasion he did manage to get in the zone (or somewhere in the general vicinity of the zone) with his schoolwork, he was always grumpy when he got interrupted.
That was all.
Jack went back to his room and lay down on his bed to stare at the ceiling for a while.