Work Text:
People on TV always act like make-up sex is the best part of having a fight with your lover. You fall into one another. You savor the fact that you still have one another. It’s supposed to feel amazing.
Jordan doesn’t feel that way. At least not when he was the one angry with Asher.
Maybe it’s that Asher isn’t really his lover so much as he is a best friend that Jordan fucks sometimes. Whenever he needs to.
Sex with Asher is a private escape. His secret release. Whether or not he seems to need that escape more often than he needs vanilla sex with his girlfriend is beside the point. The point is that Asher isn’t a lover. He’s a friend, who Jordan can trust with his deepest needs and most guarded secrets. Secrets that Asher readily accepts. Needs that Asher is happy to satisfy.
Or maybe that’s not it at all.
All Jordan knows is that if he was angry with Asher, the first few moments of intimacy after the clash is the worst part of the fight.
Because when he watches Asher close his eyes and desperately pull him closer, when he feels how his breath shudders in his lungs as he tries not to tremble with mixed nerves and relief, Joran starts to feel the true impact the fight had on him. And the guilt starts to set in.
He knows that it’s not fair when he ices Asher out because when he does, he takes everything with him.
Jordan has other people that love him. His parents, his sister, even if they have problems, they’ll always be there for him.
But Asher doesn’t have that. His parent’s affection is limited and fickle. They want him only when he’s performing for them. Giving them something to gloat about at cocktail parties and fundraisers. Their conditional love has eaten away at Asher’s self-worth since he was barely able to hold a ball.
Jordan’s watched Asher crawl to them like a starving child, time and time again. Practically begging for their love and attention. They’ll give him just enough to keep him crawling. To keep him thinking that the problem is him . That if he was just a little better they’d love him.
Jordan knows what it’s like to want to be closer with your father. He knows how bad it hurts when you think you’re never going to be good enough for him. That they’ll always be a divide between you no matter how hard you try to break through.
But he also knows that what he feels about his own father isn’t even close to what Asher experiences. At the end of the day, Jordan’s father still loves him. Asher’s parents treat him like trash.
Asher’s terrified that he’ll lose Jordan’s love at any moment, and Jordan’s love is the only love he’s ever truly known.
It’s not fair when they fight like this, because Jordan always knows that it’s temporary. He knows that Asher’s his, and will always be his. But Asher doesn’t know the same. He’s terrified that Jordan’s love, like the crumbs of affection given to him by his parents, could be retracted at a moment’s notice.
“Jay. ” Asher whispers the nickname into the dark bedroom, his voice broken as he buries his face into Jordan’s neck to hide the way his eyes are tearing up.
Vulnerability he shares only when they’re alone like this.
“Come’re, Ash.” he whispers into his hair, sliding his hand down the receiver's bare spine.
They’re already practically plastered to one another, but somehow Asher manages to move even closer. Leaning into Jordan’s body and wrapping his arms around his waist, squeezing him so tight Jordan feels like his bones might break.
I’m sorry Ash...
Why is it so hard to say? Why is it so hard to tell Asher what he needs to hear?
His hand creeps up the receiver's neck, his fingers tangling into his hair — tightening till he hears Asher’s breath change. He tugs at the short locks, drawing a sharp breath and a long moan from Asher’s lips.
Fuck.
They don’t talk much after that. Soon Asher’s underneath him, head down, palms flat on the mattress, panting as he takes Jordan’s thrusts. Fuck, he looks good like that — hair sticking to the back of his neck, a crimson blush burning underneath his smooth creamy skin as his fingers curl in the white sheets. The thick curve of his ass bouncing to the pace that Jordan sets. His entire body knocked forward with the impact of each thrust — Jordan has to grip Asher’s hips tightly to keep him from sliding across the bed.
There will be dark bruises on Asher’s body in the morning, but neither of them care.
“Fucking, take it …” he huffs, grinding his nails deeper. “Take it. Take it like you fucking deserve it…”
Asher’s response is muffled by the pillows, but Jordan is almost certain it’s some form of “ Yes. ”
It’s not long after that that Asher’s hips buck, his teeth breaking from the soft down of Jordan’s pillows.
His guttural cry is stifled by Jordan’s hand wrapping around his mouth.
“Shh! ” he breathes in Asher’s ear, squeezing his hand overhis lips tightly as he continues to fuck him through his orgasm. Spencer and Olivia are both asleep in their bedrooms down the hall, and the last thing they need is to wake them. “Come on, baby, come for me…”
Asher’s body spasms and jerks beneath him. The vibrations of his his moans are absorbed into Jordan’s palm. His strained breath hot on Jordan’s fingers.
Fuck, why is Asher so goddamn perfect?
Jordan swears as quiet as he possibly can as he topples over the edge himself.
When the world stops spinning and Jordan’s ears stop ringing he finds himself collapsed on top of Asher. His body melting into the receiver’s back, gently rising and falling with his breath.
He can feel the tender aching in Asher’s body for something more intimate than he’s willing to ask for. He won’t ever reach for Jordan — not unless Jordan reaches for him first. That’s how deep his fear of rejection runs.
As his breath returns to normal he slowly rolls off Asher’s back and onto his side. Asher doesn’t move with him, he continues to lay flat on his stomach.
“Hey,” Jordan whispers gently, lettings his fingers trace a line up the back of Ash’s neck. Asher trembles ever so slightly underneath the touch. “Ash, come’re.”
Asher cautiously rolls over and rests his head on the pillow facing him. There’s so much uncertainty in his grey and green eyes it’s almost too painful to look at.
Tell him.
Jordan doesn’t know why it’s so hard to say, but it is.
“Ash, I’m sorry.” he whispers, “I don’t...when we fight...”
“It’s fine.” Asher says, attempting nonchalance but falling short.
“No,” Jordan pushes himself to say, “I want you to hear me out right now.”
“Okay...” Asher says, cautious and confused.
“I don’t want you to think,” Jordan started again, “That when I’m mad, that I’m going to just...stop being there for you.”
Asher blinks and stares at him, his eyes a strange mix of vulnerable and disbelieving.
“I mean it.” he says again, this time reaching his fingers behind Asher’s neck to pull him closer. He brushes his lips across his forehead and, tightening his grip on Asher’s hair, kisses his brow. “I will always have your back, okay?”
He doesn’t know if Asher completely believes him, but he can feel something hot and wet as Asher’s eyelashes brush against his chin. Asher’s body shakes slightly, makes a sound like a cough.
He pulls Asher into his arms. Asher buries his face into his neck, and they hold one another till the both fall asleep.