Chapter Text
“I’m exhausted.”
It’s Josh, emerging from the motel bathroom, hair a wet mop of curls and sleep clothes hung loosely off his damp body.
Tyler hits the power button on the remote for the TV that’s dangerously close to predating the both of them. He tries to reply, but all that comes out when he opens his mouth is a yawn.
It’s been a long day. They—along with Mark and Michael—packed up the van bright and early at seven in the morning to make it to a festival down in Kentucky. After mildly warm McDonald’s coffee during the ride and waiting a handful of hours to get checked in and sort out paperwork, they played a decently long set in the oppressive July heat. Then, Tyler and Josh somehow convinced Mark and Michael to stick around a little longer to listen to some of the other acts, before clamoring back in the van and starting their journey to the next stop on their makeshift tour.
They made it about halfway there before everyone was too tired to keep driving. So they found the closest motel they could, one with a near-barren parking lot and the big neon sign burnt out, and settled on insufficient vending machine dinners.
The motel stop was kinda unplanned, so they only had enough money for a single one-bed room. It came down to a round of rock, paper, scissors between Josh and Mark, and Josh won.
So here they are, in a dingy room that Tyler is too scared to look up reviews for, getting settled beneath the scratchy comforter and hoping they can get even a little bit of some good sleep before the morning.
“How was the shower?” Tyler asks as Josh puts his phone on the charger, water from his hair dripping into his pillow. Tyler leans away on instinct—he’s never understood Josh’s tendency to not dry off all the way, and he doesn’t feel particularly happy by the idea of getting rained on by Josh’s hair-water.
“Better than I expected,” Josh replies, turning to face him. “Though the hot water only lasted for like, five minutes.”
“Damn.”
Tyler twists around to shut off the lamp, settling into his half of the bed and letting out a slightly dramatic sigh as he melts into the lumpy mattress.
“Goodnight,” Josh says, pulling his end of the blanket up over his shoulders.
“Goodnight.”
It’s maybe about ten minutes before the noises start.
They’re quiet at first. Vague enough to be mistaken for something innocent, like a door creaking or a dog outside. But as seconds go by, they just get louder, and longer. More obvious. Moans, grunts, occasionally even the wet sound of people kissing. From the room on the other side of their wall.
“What do you want, baby?”
Oh. So that’s what that is. Tyler’s eyes shoot open. He did not expect to be able to hear them so clearly.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Yeah? You want my cock inside you?”
“Jesus Christ,” Josh whispers from the other side of the bed. Thank God he’s awake; Tyler’s not sure he could bear witness to this alone.
Tyler twists around to face him. He can barely see Josh; mainly his silhouette outlined by the light of a streetlamp from the window. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted before he can even get a word out.
“Your fingers are so thick.”
“Mm. Just wait until I get my cock in you.”
“Ew,” Tyler says, almost involuntarily. “Do people really talk like that?”
Josh laughs, with perhaps a pinch of awkwardness. “I guess so.”
It comes out a little strange, something Tyler can’t quite put his finger on. All Tyler knows is that he’s never talked like that in bed—granted, it’s not like he’s had many opportunities to. It’s always felt gaudy, the concept of pillow talk. The only exposure he’s had to it is in porn, and that’s obviously over-exaggerated, if not fake altogether. So he’s never really tried it; at least, not to the levels of what he’s hearing on the other side of the wall. Too worried his girlfriend at the time would laugh, or be turned off by it.
Based on Josh’s response, Tyler guesses he’s in a similar situation. He’s had more experience, Tyler’s sure of it. He has eyes. Josh is very attractive. And if he’s bewildered at the level of obscenities they hear, then it must not be normal.
Not that Josh is, like, an expert at sex or anything. Tyler wouldn’t know. It’s not something they really talk about. But he wouldn’t be shocked if Josh is more… active than others their age. On account of his looks, maybe even his charm. From an objective standpoint.
Anyway.
“Suck it first. Get it nice and wet, yeah?” the man’s gruff voice cuts through Tyler’s train of thought.
Tyler can see the grimace on Josh’s face, his eyes more used to the darkness now, enough to see his defining features. “I feel like we’re intruding.”
“I mean, it’s a motel,” Tyler says, though he’s not entirely sure what he means by that, or what his point was.
The other room’s bed creaks, just for a moment. Then, a stretched moment of anticipatory silence.
“Fuuuck yeah,” the man groans, so clear that if Tyler closed his eyes, he’d think they were in the same room. “Look so good with your lips stretched around my cock.”
“This is insane,” is all that Tyler can say to that, because it’s true. He feels voyeuristic, dirty in a way he’s never really felt before.
It’s not the first time they’ve heard some… suspicious noises while touring—far from it. Whether it be from a neighboring motel room or a nearby tent at a festival. This is just the first time it’s been so distinct. Before, it had always been just the vague idea. The quintessential bed rocking, the muffled and barely-distinguishable moans. Just quiet enough that he could sleep through it. Nothing like how it is right now.
“Should we bang on the wall or something?” Josh says.
Tyler thinks for a moment, taking his lower lip between his teeth. They really should. It most likely wouldn’t make the noises stop altogether, but maybe they’d at least try to keep it down. Maybe it would be quiet enough for them to get their much-needed sleep before they continue their journey tomorrow. It would be the responsible thing to do.
But… Tyler doesn’t really want to.
Because now, there’s a weird sort of adrenaline coursing in his veins, and sleep is a forgotten memory. Something about the taboo of it all is sort of thrilling. Hearing this intimate moment between two strangers, an audible translation of what they’re doing to each other on the other side of that wall, like a secret they didn’t mean to share. And his best friend is right here in front of him, sharing this bizarre experience in this shitty motel in the middle of nowhere.
Tyler shrugs. “You really think that would make them stop?”
“Probably not.”
“Touch yourself while you suck my cock. Wanna hear how wet you are.”
Tyler buries his face into his pillow, muffling a groan of disgust. He almost wonders if they’re filming a porno in there, with how ridiculous they sound.
“This is too much,” Josh says, followed by a dry chuckle.
“Yeah, that’s right, choke on it. Choke on this dick.”
Warmth floods Tyler’s cheeks, and he can’t believe he’s blushing at this, the absurdity. He is suddenly very grateful it’s dark in the room.
The woman is suddenly speaking again. “Just fuck me already. My pussy’s dripping for you.”
Tyler turns his head slightly to look at Josh again, who’s looking right back at him. His eyes are wide open, but his eyebrows are slightly scrunched, like he’s focusing and doesn’t want to miss a single second.
There’s movement on the other side of the wall, probably the last of their clothes being torn off, or getting into position. Tyler’s heart is racing, thumping against his ribcage.
“God, so wet and hot for me.”
“Yeah? Your dick feels so good inside me.”
Neither of them says a word. Like this moment is on the edge of a cliff, and something as small as an exaggerated breath will send it over. Neither of them mentions how they’ve begun to lean closer and closer to the wall, ears almost pressed to the flat surface.
The other room’s headboard starts to pound against the wall, but it does very little to mask the couple’s moans.
“Think we could make a beat out of this?” Tyler asks, nudging Josh with his elbow.
“God, could you imagine? And that song is our one big hit.”
Tyler chuckles. “Oh, for sure. All over the radio, playing it at every show, and no one would know it’s a couple having sex.”
“I’d feel bad. We’d have to pay them royalties.”
It starts a giggling fit for them both. Josh even tries to come up with some drum fills, tapping his hands against the pillow and nodding his head to the rhythm of the headboard. Tyler has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop himself from laughing, because there’s no way the couple wouldn’t be able to hear it otherwise.
The woman’s shrill voice cuts through their moment like a knife through butter.
“I can feel your thick meat throbbing.”
Josh makes a face. “Now that’s gross.”
Tyler giggles. “Do people actually get off to that stuff?”
“Apparently!”
It goes on for a few minutes after that, crude dialogue peppered in between the harsh rocking of the bed. Tyler and Josh continue to act disgusted, but neither of them makes any effort to quiet down the other room or mask the noise with something else.
Eventually, the couple reaches their fever pitch.
“I’m close, baby.”
“Yeah? You gonna fill me up with your seed?”
Tyler makes a gagging sound, in utter disbelief of how… creative they’re getting.
“Mhm. Get ready for my thick load.”
“Finally,” Josh says, exhaling a sigh of relief.
It ends with a cacophony of moans and grunts, and the thumping slows to a stop. The silence that follows is heavy, the filthy things they’d just heard finally settling in. Tyler doesn’t know why, but he’s disappointed it’s over.
“Geez,” is all Josh says, rubbing his forehead with his hand.
“I think I’m traumatized.”
Josh nods. “It just kept getting worse.”
Tyler decides to take it as a bonding moment. He’d read something in a book one time, about how people who had shared traumatic experiences tend to befriend each other and maintain their relationship for the majority of their lives. And, sure, this wasn’t anything even remotely similar to the plane crashes and armed robberies and animal attacks the book had referred to, but it wasn’t like it was an entirely pleasant experience.
”Well,” Tyler says, adjusting to lie on his back. “At least we have a good story to tell Mark and Michael tomorrow.”
Josh scoffs. “Are you kidding? I’m sure they could hear it from inside the van.”
Tyler laughs, shaking his head. It’s without question their whole group has stories to tell about their travels for decades. Fights they almost got in, fights they did get in. Belligerent, drunk crowds heckling all kinds of stuff at them. The conversations with strangers at truck stops.
Maybe this one will stay between the band.
The quiet air is just a little too thick. They lie on their backs, staring holes into the ceiling.
They should really get to sleep. But Tyler’s still got that restless energy, and sleep feels far away. Judging by Josh’s lack of movement, he’s probably in the same boat. He wants to say something funny, continue the easy back-and-forth they had just moments ago, but all of the vulgar things he’d just heard play on a loop in his mind.
“‘Fill me up with your seed,’” Josh recites to the ceiling, almost incredulously. Something lurches in Tyler’s chest.
“Don’t ever say that again,” he replies, though it’s mostly mock disgust. But Tyler’s reaction seems to spur him on even more, because Josh is leaning in closer.
“‘Touch yourself while you suck my cock.’”
Tyler laughs and shoves Josh’s shoulder. “You’re gross, man.”
Josh sticks his tongue out between his teeth, satisfaction radiating off of him. “It’s actually kinda fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Sorta. Try it.”
Tyler takes a deep breath and thumbs through the mental catalogue of what they’d just heard. Josh lies next to him, head propped up by his arm, waiting for whatever Tyler’s about to say.
“‘Choke on this dick,’” is what Tyler lands on, and it feels foreign coming out of his mouth.
“Ew.”
Tyler rolls his eyes and shoves him again. “You told me to say it!”
“It’s just so ridiculous,” Josh says, shaking his head. “What did she say? ‘I can feel your thick meat throbbing’? Who says thick meat?”
Tyler squeezes his eyes shut as he laughs, like he’s simultaneously disgusted and entertained. “So weird.”
Josh grins, clearly satisfied with whatever reaction Tyler had given him. It’s at that moment that Tyler realizes that was his goal all along—to make Tyler visibly grossed out.
It’s something Tyler’s still teased about, by those inside their group and out. The good Christian boy, who goes to church every Sunday and doesn’t feel the need to divulge his more… less than pure thoughts to anyone. Despite most of his songs expressing the doubt he feels on occasion, the abandonment by God he has experienced in his life functioning as some kind of retribution.
Josh is religious too—they both grew up in pretty dedicated families. But Josh seems to have a different mindset around it all. Perhaps a different relationship with God. One where he can make mistakes and not feel like a total screw up, where every little bad thing that happens to him isn’t divine punishment for being born.
Tyler would be lying if he said it wasn’t something he’s insecure about. Because Josh is just so cool. He’s felt that way ever since they met. All easy smiles and funny jokes, playing drums like it was the only thing he was put on earth to do, no matter what anyone says.
It’s not jealousy; no, Tyler would know if it was jealousy. The only way he can describe it is fear. Fear Josh will find him to be too much, fear Josh will leave. Part of him knows it’s going to happen eventually, it’s just a matter of when.
It’s a strange way to justify talking dirty to your male best friend. But he figures it’s probably enough for God to excuse it. So he leans in even closer, until his lips are just millimeters from brushing the shell of Josh’s ear.
“‘My pussy is dripping for you.’”
Josh visibly flinches, if only a little. When Tyler pulls away, he almost wonders if he maybe did a little too much, if he crossed some sort of line. The phrase he chose to say was definitely one of the more graphic ones, so descriptive that it probably conjures up an image that Josh isn’t too keen on seeing his best friend in.
But when he finally gets a look at Josh’s face, he’s smiling. “Okay, you win.”
Tyler smirks, nodding to himself.
Once they start, it’s difficult to stop. They say different phrases back and forth, variations of what the couple had said to each other, until they both laugh so hard they can’t breathe.
It was weird at first, to hear such dirty things roll off his own tongue, to hear Josh say them. They are not very sexual people—at least, not to each other. They didn’t know each other when they had hit puberty. And even then, Tyler felt disconnected from his friends when they’d talk about sex or girls.
It wasn’t like he didn’t feel it. He did. He’s had girlfriends, all of which he was very attracted to. But he never felt the need to shout it from the rooftops, just how all those pubescent hormones affected him. It just seemed unproductive and immature.
But after doing it enough times with Josh, it feels almost… normal, in a way. Like just another inside joke among the many they share. Tyler guesses it’s just another testament to their friendship, their compatibility; that even the most strange and outlandish things can bring a laugh out of both of them.
Once the thrill has subsided and they eventually calm down, sleep finally starts to catch up to them. Tyler’s sad to see the night go, but he knows he’s already going to be dead on his feet tomorrow morning, with many Red Bulls in his future.
“Goodnight, Josh,” Tyler says, rolling over for the final time.
“Goodnight, Tyler.”
-
The following morning, they meet Mark and Michael outside the van, all four of them holding lukewarm Red Bulls from the motel’s vending machine.
“Good morning,” Michael says with a lilted tone. “How did the princesses sleep?”
“Awful,” Josh replies.
Mark rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. At least you had a bed. And air conditioning.”
“And you didn’t have to listen to a couple have sex for over an hour,” Tyler retorts, though it doesn’t seem to hold much weight. Michael shakes his head.
“And? It’s a motel. I’d be concerned if you couldn’t hear a couple having sex.”
Briefly, Tyler considers informing them just how graphic it had gotten, just how much they had heard. But something about it feels wrong; like letting them in on his and Josh’s little secret. Besides, the idea of saying such sexual things back and forth with Mark and Michael feels a little too similar to doing it with his brothers. So he concedes. “Whatever, man.”
Michael makes a show of yawning obnoxiously, dangling the van keys in front of them. They clink together as he shakes them. “We’re not driving.”
Tyler takes a quick look at Josh before sighing dramatically. “Fine.”
-
Mark and Michael fall asleep in the back within twenty minutes of getting on the road.
Tyler prefers driving like this, when he can listen to whatever music Josh puts on at a peaceful volume, and their hushed conversation comes so easily. That’s another thing he likes about Josh—how quickly they just… clicked. Ever since they first hung out, when they lay in Tyler’s room listening to Death Cab and Switchfoot, talking until sunlight started to peek through the blinds. Like an instant telepathic connection. It all just feels so easy with Josh.
Which is why, when Josh leans over the center console about an hour into their drive, Tyler already knows what his ulterior motive is.
“Hey,” Josh says, voice dropped to a whisper.
“Hm?”
Tyler tries his best to sound completely oblivious, like he has no idea what’s coming next.
“Bet you’d feel so good stretched around my cock.”
But Tyler doesn’t react. Not even a twitch. Instead, he gets to work thinking of something to say, something to counter the filth that just left Josh’s mouth. “Yeah? You gonna put it deep inside me?”
Josh pulls back, and when Tyler looks away from the road to sneak a quick glance at him, his eyebrows are raised as he blinks back at Tyler. Tyler smirks to himself, bringing his attention back to the highway with his bottom lip between his teeth.
As taken aback as Josh was, he recovers quickly, taking only a few seconds to come up with what to say next.
“Gonna fuck you so hard, you can’t even walk tomorrow.”
Tyler’s chest tightens, if only for a second. He readjusts his grip on the steering wheel, blaming it on the game, on its inherent purpose to make each other squirm. “Okay, okay. You win.”
Josh grins all wicked and smug as he finally returns to his side of the van. And just like that, he’s back to drumming along to the song on his legs, watching the scenery go by through his window. Tyler takes a deep breath and glues his eyes to the car in front of them.
-
It’s another festival today, the last of this trip.
They arrive on the grounds only a little past their designated check-in time, which, after their impromptu motel stop, is honestly better than Tyler expected.
The paperwork is left to Mark while Tyler, Josh, and Michael get to work unloading their equipment by their stage. It’s an especially hot day, climbing into the low eighties by 11 AM. Tyler has sweat sliding down his back within a few minutes.
Usually, Tyler hates days like today. When it’s so humid you feel wet all over as soon as you step outside, the air like a thick cloud of smoke that makes it harder and harder to breathe the hotter it gets.
He especially hates performing in it. The feeling of his shirt clinging to his skin is uncomfortable and suffocating, and his fingers slip from the piano keys too easily.
But, weirdly, ever since Josh joined, that feeling just… disappeared. In fact, he almost prefers playing shows in the heat, as long as it’s with Josh. Something about the two of them running around the stage, performing each and every song like it’s the last one they’ll ever play, and feeling the evidence of it coating every inch of his skin until it drips onto the floor, is exhilarating.
So a pleasant buzz simmers between Tyler’s nerves as he carries hardware for Josh’s drums to the stage, and there’s a hop in his every step. It ends up being perhaps the quickest set-up they’ve accomplished to date, done well before their call time, before Mark can even get back from the administrative tent.
They hang around backstage, trying to kill time before they go on. Josh stepped away a few minutes before to look for some water—he returns with four bottles, the outsides covered in a layer of condensation, still cold from one of the concession tent’s coolers.
Tyler holds his arm out, making a grabbing motion with his hand. Josh tosses one of them over, Tyler catching it, opening it, and bringing it to his lips in one swift motion.
Josh hands another one to Michael, smiling when he turns back to Tyler. “What’s up with you?”
Still mid-chug, Tyler takes a few more big gulps and lowers the bottle with a satisfied sigh. Twists the cap back on and catches the water that had dribbled down his chin with the back of his hand. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, you just seem…” he takes a beat to search for the right word, “happier.”
Tyler shrugs. “Just excited to play, I guess.”
“Good,” Josh says, nodding once. “Me too.”
-
Their set goes well. Really well.
Tyler didn’t expect a bad turnout, per se, but definitely less than what they ended up getting. This is an area they had never been before, and from what Tyler could notice, most of the other acts had a more… country sound than they did. How Michael got the organizers to agree to book them was beyond Tyler.
By the second song, there were people spilling out of their tent, nodding along to every beat. It felt good.
Usually, Tyler tries to not even look at the crowd, let alone estimate how many there were. But this time, he let himself relish in it, in how far the band has reached. It’s nothing close to the number his favorite bands get, but he doesn’t care; he thinks he could die right now and be happy with how everything played out.
So many people lined up to buy CDs that they blew through the amount they designated for this festival and had to dip into the piles for the remaining shows. At one point, Mark had to tell him to keep the line moving, because he was taking too much time talking to every single person who came up to the table. It was hard not to—they all just listened to him for an hour, the least he could do is listen to them for a few minutes.
Mark and Michael had finished putting all of their gear away before the line was even halfway through. So they joined Tyler and Josh behind the table to get it done faster.
They had planned on leaving the grounds to get cheap food somewhere in town before sneaking back in to sleep in their tents, since their performer passes didn’t grant them re-entry. But they made so much more money from the CD sales than they had anticipated, so they all agreed they could splurge on the overpriced festival food in celebration.
So they found an empty picnic table and chowed down on their grilled hot dogs and sipped from their chilled cans of Coke and Sprite, smiling and laughing and glowing, and Tyler thought, it can’t get better than this.
They wandered around the grounds for a while afterward, drifting between the different stages until the last act ended and they had to go set up their tents before it got too dark. It took longer than they expected, mostly because Michael insisted he didn’t need the instructions, and twenty minutes had gone by before he gave up and listened to Mark read them aloud.
It was two tents, so naturally, Tyler and Josh were in one, and Mark and Michael would get the other. They brushed their teeth with bottles of water before saying goodnight and changing into their pajamas.
And now they’re here—Tyler and Josh on their respective sides of their tent, tapping away uselessly at their phones. Tyler’s body is still thrumming with energy from the day’s events, and he wonders if Josh is, too.
He gets something like an answer a few minutes later, when Josh speaks up for the first time since they stepped into the tent.
“Hey, Tyler?”
“Yeah?”
A beat passes, until: “Can I fuck your mouth?”
Tyler groans, kicking Josh’s leg. He was not expecting Josh to start up their game right here, right now. But Tyler has never been a quitter, and he’s not about to start now.
He inches a little closer, a smirk playing at his lips in anticipation of what he’s about to say.
“I want you to fuck my mouth until you come down my throat.”
Josh’s eyes widen, practically doubling in size. A sick kind of satisfaction is triggered in Tyler, and he feels almost drunk on it. He blames it on the sleep deprivation.
Shoving Tyler back, Josh crawls after him, until his lips are right up against Tyler’s ear.
“I should fuck you and come deep inside you instead.”
Tyler’s jaw drops. He knew it was coming, but something about it feels different. Maybe it’s the way they’re building off each other, responding perfectly to what was said previously, using the context of the make-believe situation. Regardless, it’s an ingenious line on Josh’s part. So ingenious, that Tyler’s actually having a physical reaction. Almost as if those words went straight to his—
“Ha,” Josh says, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Gotcha again.”
Tyler lets out an awkward cough. “Yeah,” he says, attempting to take a deep breath without sounding like it. “Guess so.”
Josh lies back down in his sleeping bag, still smirking to himself. And now Tyler’s heart is kinda racing, and he knows it would be best to just tap out here, but a deep and dark corner of his mind is telling him do it again, make him say something else.
He takes a prolonged moment to recall all the things they’d heard the night before, and to think of something new that could catch Josh by surprise. Something to elicit a similar reaction, a taste of his own medicine.
Wait.
A taste of his own medicine? Why would Tyler want that? Why would he want Josh, his best friend, to feel the same way Tyler just did? Why would Tyler want to cause that kind of reaction? That’s not something best friends do. Best friends don’t—
No. No, because that would require naming it. Putting a label on the way Josh’s words made him feel. Which would make it all infinitely more real, with a concrete definition that couldn’t be misinterpreted or explained away.
It is so much easier to sweep it under the rug with an excuse when it’s unnamed. He can just claim he doesn’t understand it—which isn’t all that untrue—and push it down until it’s smothered completely. Yeah, that should do it.
But he still can’t just… let Josh win. He already did this morning, in the van. Two losses in a row, on the same day, is a pitiful performance. And Tyler has to be good at everything, because if he isn’t, then what was the point of even trying in the first place?
“Josh.”
A groan. “No, I don’t wanna hear it, I already won. You don’t get to say anything.”
Tyler smiles to himself, slipping out of his sleeping bag and crawling over to Josh’s, flopping on his stomach and cradling his chin in his hands innocently. “What, you don’t wanna hear how tight I am for you?”
Josh’s eyebrows shoot up in shock, so far they might as well be at his hairline. That strange thrill simmers under Tyler’s skin again, and he knows it’s sick and kind of fucked-up but it’s just so addicting, to hear each other say such crude things and watch the other’s face change in horror.
Slipping the pillow out from under his neck, Josh whacks Tyler in the head with it, and Tyler can’t help but laugh.
Tyler thinks that means he’s won, because how could Josh possibly top that. So he starts to turn back toward his spot in the tent. He’s stopped, however, by Josh’s hand on his shoulder.
He looks back in front of him, mouth open to ask why Josh is grabbing him, but he’s rendered speechless by the presence of warm breath against his neck, and the realization that Josh’s mouth is barely an inch from his ear.
“Is my dirty little slut all tight and ready for me?”
Oh. Okay. Sure. With that, Tyler’s dick throbs in his sweatpants, and the heat gathering low in his belly is undeniable. Josh stays there for just a moment, long enough for the words to really settle in, before he’s leaning back to gauge Tyler’s reaction.
But Tyler doesn’t give him one. Which is sort of a reaction in itself, Tyler supposes. He’s too busy trying to breathe correctly, to regulate his heartbeat.
He’s definitely lost this one. Because there’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to think of something better (worse?) than that.
Once he’s finally calmed down enough, Tyler’s eyes land back on Josh again, who’s sporting a devilish smile. “There. That gross enough for you?”
Tyler blinks. “Uh, y-yeah.”
“Good, ‘cause if we keep going, I might puke.”
“Yeah, man,” Tyler chokes out, clearing his throat. “You definitely, um—you definitely won that one.”
Tyler awkwardly crawls back to his own sleeping bag, zipping it up despite how hot and constrictive his underwear feels right now. They exchange their usual goodnights and Tyler tries desperately to count sheep or recite the alphabet backwards or imagine his great-aunt who kissed him on the lips last Christmas.
But it keeps coming back, the image of Josh’s mouth forming the words fuck and cock and slut playing on an endless loop, the goosebumps prickling his neck at the phantom feeling of warm breath washing over his skin.