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The noise of the cheering—loud, cataclysmic, gladiatorial—fades, dampened by a tear-streaked towel for a brief little window of time. And for some reason, in this insane, life-changing moment, Josh is thinking about the past.
The thing about Josh is that he knows he’s a bully. He’s not ever really trying to be, but he has no filter and his internal thoughts are kinda mean. Bitchy, Aimee used to tell him, and then she’d offer him her Motrin because she was the worst. But, whatever. He gets it. He’s a loudmouth and says the first thing on his mind, which isn’t usually complimentary. It got him in trouble all the time in middle school, then high school, nearly got him kicked out (along with some other less flattering traits of his).
But Josh is funny, and most importantly, he’s damn good at basketball, and that’s what’s saved him throughout his life. He’s not as good as JB, but nobody on the team is, except maybe KAT when KAT isn’t in his head about something. He’s not a seven foot tall big but he’s also not barely pushing six feet (he knows JB’s stated height is a lie, though he can’t figure out why Jalen would do that because it doesn’t seem like him. Like most things that make no sense of the image of Jalen Brunson he’s been building in his mind since he met him as a dour-faced freshman in 2015, he blames his dad).
Anyway, all this to say, Josh knows he’s a bully. Knows he bullied Jalen and Kal and Donte bad during their time at Nova before they all became friends, and for some reason he’s thinking about that as he kneels with Jalen in the aftermath of winning it all, wraps his hand around the back of his neck and presses their foreheads together and thinks about how the version of himself ten years ago wouldn’t even believe he’d be here, that annoying basketball pod-person rookie leaning into his touch and crying into his towel and pressing their foreheads together so tightly Josh won’t be surprised if he has a red mark on his skin from it.
“You did good, baby,” Josh tells him, low and secret, just for the two of them in their little world under Jalen’s towel. “You did it, JB. We did it. All this is for you.”
Jalen’s eyes flicker up, huge and wet and god, he forgets during playoff season how much Jalen hides himself, how much Jalen feels, his eyes giving everything away every time. Josh has no poker face—what you see is what you get when you look at him. Jalen does, but only because he feels so hard and so deep it cracks him open every time.
“Josh—” he starts, voice fracturing halfway through the word, but then the moment is broken, the two of them separated by the hands pulling Jalen up and away, by the crowds clamoring for him, shouting MVP, MVP. Kal slams into him with a yell, his eyes wet too, and Josh grips him tightly, these stupid Nova freshmen rookies the best things to ever happen to him, letting himself be swept away in the excitement of it all.
Back in the locker room there’s yelling, music blasting and champagne fizzing. Jalen looks goofy with the goggles and a big grin on his face and Josh is so distracted by the sight of him so unburdened he misses when the smile turns wicked and he dumps champagne over Josh’s head. Then he loses him again, drinks bubbly until his stomach hurts, until his aches ease, the pain in his muscles a distant thing, when someone yells his name.
“Wha—?”
“Cap’s lookin’ for you,” Jose says with a manic grin, a Puerto Rican flag that he manifested out of nowhere draped over him like a cape, and Josh claps his hand on his shoulder and goes to find his man.
He finds him just outside the bathrooms, swaying a little like he’s drunk or indecisive.
“What’re you hollering at me for?” Josh asks after just taking him in for a moment and Jalen jumps, winces when he puts a little too much weight on the ankle Wemby nearly took out.
“Was looking for you,” Jalen says, his expression open, magnetic, bedazzled champion shirt still damp from the champagne shower. His eyes are still red.
Josh takes a step towards him, then another, until Jalen is caged against the wall by his body. Jalen tips his chin up to look up at him.
“Here I am, JB,” Josh murmurs with his arms open and he feels Jalen’s breath hitch, then he collapses into his chest. Josh presses a kiss to the brim of Jalen’s cap, feels him shake in his arms, and holds him close, tighter, letting him fall apart here, where it’s safe, where nobody is watching—not the press, not Coach, not the boys, not his dad who is already telling him it isn’t over, even though he’s accomplished more than that man ever did in his entire career.
“‘S okay, baby,” Josh says quietly, dipping his chin to Jalen’s ear. “It’s over. You can rest.”
He feels Jalen’s fingers curl in the front of Josh’s shirt, in between the little bedazzled studs, can sense the moment when Jalen begins to put himself back together, the mask back on for the press, for everyone. Captain Clutch, MVP. Champion. All the things he needs to be for everyone else, but never has to be for Josh.
“Ugh.” His face scrunches as he pulls back. “You stink.”
“Hey!” Josh flicks his cap. “Could be nicer t’me after I let you snot all over me.”
“I didn’t—”
Josh raises his eyebrows, wet spot markedly visible on his shirt. Jalen flushes.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says and shoves him back. Josh laughs.
“Aw, baby,” he drawls and Jalen flushes harder. Josh can feel his smile turn mean. “Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout.”
“Shut up,” he says again, trying to slip past him like a little eel, but Josh grabs him by the waist and hauls him back against the wall.
Jalen inhales sharply and Josh goes still, feeling the heat of his body, drawn into the endless expanse of Jalen’s dilated pupils. His mouth goes dry as he tracks the flush that crawls down Jalen’s cheeks, disappearing into the neck of his champion shirt. Suddenly he feels all of those ten weeks of forced celibacy, can tell Jalen feels it too, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip as Josh follows it hungrily with his eyes.
This isn’t new for them, not really. Josh had Jalen in his twin extra long more often than not his last year at Nova, when they lived together. Knows exactly how Jalen likes to be touched, gentle along his ribs, gripping his hips until they bruise so Jalen can touch them later, feel the evidence of what they’ve done. But it’s not common, not like it was then. Responsibilities, and Jalen’s bone-deep fear of being found out keeping them from fooling around like they used to, wives and girlfriends be damned.
But Josh is burning now—he always is, for Jalen—but there’s something about the relaxed set of his shoulders, a burden finally lifted for the moment, that makes Josh want.
“Josh,” Jalen breathes, half a protest as Josh leans forward, their noses grazing together. Anyone could see, he knows. They’re alone but not hidden, tucked away in an alcove just beyond the bathroom door. They can hear the music and muffled, indistinct yelling. But Josh doesn’t care, feeling Jalen’s chest rise and fall rapidly the closer Josh gets. He wants—with the same burning intensity that he wanted the ring—to see if he can taste the champagne from Jalen’s tongue.
“The—there’s people,” Jalen says weakly but he’s clutching at Josh’s hip like he can’t bear to let go and Josh has to kiss him, has to swallow the noise Jalen makes when he does, greedy, he’s so fucking greedy. Doesn’t want anyone else to see Jalen like this, to hear his little gasps, to feel the way his hand flexes against Josh’s chest when Josh bites down on his lower lip, swelling it between his teeth. He soothes the sting with his tongue then licks into his mouth, and finds that he can taste the dry bite of the bubbly he was chugging ten minutes ago.
He feels it when Jalen groans, feels it when Jalen arches his back to press up against him, despite his protests just unable to help it, unable to stop himself from seeking out Josh’s touch.
With a ferocity that borders on fury he wishes they were staying the night at a hotel before flying back to New York, just so he could spread Jalen out on crisp white sheets, make him beg until his voice is raw and aching, until nothing is left in that busy mind of his except Josh’s name. He’s a possessive asshole, what can he say? He doesn’t want to share Jalen tonight. Doesn’t want to share him with the boys, with the fans, with fucking New York City. He wants to keep him all to himself.
Jalen is whining softly against him, panting for breath when Josh finally pulls back to shove the collar of his shirt over his shoulder so he can ravage the skin there, biting dark, claiming marks that he hopes linger on Jalen’s skin for the next week.
He spares a thought for Ali and then immediately pushes it away. It ain’t nothing she hasn’t seen before anyway, and he slides his hand under Jalen’s shirt to splay over his ribcage, feel it expand as Jalen trembles against him. God, he’s so pretty, always so sweet for him when they’re like this.
“Fuck,” Jalen pants, clutching the back of Josh’s neck, slipping through his braids and unable to get a good grip. Josh grunts, gnawing at the jut of his collarbone until Jalen finally shoves him back, hands resting on his chest to keep him at arm’s distance. He looks wrecked, lips swollen, red splotches along his face and neck, his chest heaving and wet from Josh’s mouth. Josh eyes the bite marks on Jalen’s collarbone and shoulder with savage satisfaction, reaching out to carefully tug his shirt back over his skin. One slowly-darkening bruise peaks out where the shirt falls, a little stretched out from the manhandling.
Josh licks his lips and Jalen tracks it automatically, eyes dark and hungry, then shakes his head hard, like he’s trying to chase away the desire to eat Josh alive. As if Josh would stop him.
“Tastes better, y’know,” Josh says, shocked at how deep his voice has gotten. He sees Jalen twitch, a minute shudder working its way through his body.
“What’re you talking about, man?” Jalen asks, raspy and low, like instead of just kissing Josh had him on his knees and fucked his mouth until his voice was raw and broken.
“The champagne,” he says, leaning heavily into Jalen’s hands which are still pressed against his chest. “Tastes better when you were drinkin’ it first.”
Even Jalen’s ears go red at that as he stares at Josh incredulously.
“You are…” He laughs in disbelief, shaking his head again.
“Amazing? Perfect? The best you’ve ever had?” he leers.
“Insane,” he says flatly, nudging him even further back so he can slip past him. This time Josh lets him, though he can’t help but rest a hand on the curve of his hip, just to feel the way Jalen shivers. It’s not like either of them are small men, for all that Jalen is small for what they do. But he’s always liked how Josh can throw him around.
“Josh? Jalen?” Kal’s voice echoes down the hallway and Josh feels Jalen stiffen. As if Kal hasn’t walked in on them before back in the day. “We’re heading out! So…finish up doing…whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Sit next to me on the plane?” Josh murmurs in Jalen’s ear.
“Obviously,” he hisses, and Josh feels a pang when he sees the way Jalen’s shoulders tense up as he heads out, like he’s preparing for war instead of just the same team that’s supported and respected him all season. Not for the first time, he wants to grab Rick Brunson by the shoulders and shake him. Sure, he made JB a fucking…basketball prodigy who lives and breathes it and got them here. But sometimes he wonders if that was worth it. If Jalen would’ve been something else, wanted something else, without Rick Brunson in his ear all his life molding him to be the basketball player he never was.
He wonders if Jalen would be happier that way.
Josh shakes it off, heading back to the locker room to grab his things and get the fuck outta San Antonio. Much as he wants Jalen all to himself, the vibes here are rancid anyway.
“Yo,” Jose says, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly, and Josh snorts, putting his palm on his forehead and shoving gently.
“Get your shit, Alvarado,” he says.
“Damn, Cap’n didn’t put out?”
Josh barks out a laugh. “Don’t let him hear you say that. Get outta here.”
The locker room is quiet after he leaves and Josh stands still for a moment, the scent of sticky dried out champagne and sweat lingering in the air. Jalen did this, he thinks, so proud he could choke on it.
“Joooosh!” He hears outside the door and he follows the noise of the team, like he always does.
On the plane, Josh leans back and watches through half-lidded eyes as Jalen stares at KAT, who’s laughing uproariously at something Deuce said, eyes crinkled at the corners of his handsome face.
Josh reaches over and rests his hand on Jalen’s leg, fingers splayed along that muscular inner thigh. Jalen startles and glances over at him, the tip of his ears red. Josh gets jealous sometimes, sue him. It’s hard not to be, knowing they brought KAT to the Knicks for Jalen, that he’s big like Jalen likes his men, with a wide grin, loyal, and so damn nice. Not like Josh, who’s always been a little mean and biting. During All Star weekend, KAT and Jalen got close, and he likes the man just fine but it still makes something ugly crawl up his throat and settle there. He’s heard the rumors about Towns same as anyone else. He don’t judge—he’d be a hypocrite to—but that doesn’t mean he wants Jalen to find out how true those rumors are. Josh flexes his fingers and watches as Jalen’s blush travels down his cheeks.
“Dude,” Jalen says, flustered.
“What?” Josh looks at him innocently, widening his eyes. “You need sum’n?” He’s not doing anything he hasn’t done in front of the press. Jalen glares at him but he’s not pushing him away. Instead, he slumps back into his seat, cheeks red, and shifts his legs open a little wider. Josh feels what he knows is a hungry grin split his lips, and he curls his fingers in just a little, pressing on the thick muscle of his inner thigh.
Jalen’s eyes briefly flutter before he forces them open, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He’s not looking at Josh, staring fixated at the back of his airplane seat in that way that means he’s trying not to give them away. Josh remembers it from bus rides at Nova, the two of them in the back while the rest of the team was sacked out, exhausted post-game. The boys aren’t paying attention to them, so Josh dares slide his hand further up, feeling the way Jalen’s thigh twitches under him, the way his fingers curl into the arm rests.
“You’re a fucking dick,” he hisses and Josh just smirks because Jalen hasn’t pushed him away or told him to stop, which means he’s feeling good, feeling bold, and Josh is reckless enough to not care who sees. In fact he wants them to, wants them to see that Jalen might have them all in check for the games, as a team, as Captain fucking Clutch, but when it comes to this, his desire, his want—that’s all Josh’s.
“Maybe,” Josh says, voice low as he trails his fingers up, covetously cupping the bulge in Jalen’s sweats. The Larry between them is keeping them hidden enough anyway. “But can you blame me, baby? Been so long since we got to do this, and now you’re a champion. My champion. Wanna touch you so bad.”
Jalen’s breath hitches and he tips his head back against the airplane seat, exposing that tempting curve of his throat. He swallows and Josh wants to lean over and bite it, feel the tendons flex under his tongue.
“Fuck,” he says, short and explosive, and Josh feels triumph curl in his gut. Jalen’s feeling it too, the restless energy, the need thrumming under his skin. He might act like a robot sometimes but underneath the dead-eyed facade, the 0-0 mentality, is a redblooded man like anyone else, a man who is looking at Josh with hungry eyes like he wants to devour him.
Josh can feel Jalen plumping up underneath his touch as he strokes him through the fabric with his thumb. He watches Jalen swallow again, wonders if he could get him to spill like this, biting back noises and squirming as the rest of the boys are none-the-wiser.
A hand shoots out to grab his wrist, and he huffs, stopping. Fun’s over.
“Not here.” Jalen’s jaw clenches like it’s hurting him to do it but he pulls Josh’s hand away. “Not—fuck.” He breathes out, purposeful, like he’s trying to center himself as he stares down at Josh’s wrist still held in his hand.
Josh leans into him, presses his nose to the curve of his damp neck and resists the urge to huff in the sweat-sour scent of him like a damn dog.
“Then where, JB? Because if we don’t got a plan, I dunno if I can stop myself from fucking you in that tiny ass bathroom next time you get up to go. And I’d rather have you somewhere where I can hear you scream.”
From his vantage point he can see Jalen’s nostrils flare, can feel the way his pulse kicks up as he dares to press his mouth gently to the side of his neck, tasting the salt there.
“H-hotel,” he manages, lolling his head to the side like he just can’t help it, giving Josh more room to lick along his skin. “We can—fuck—get a hotel when we land. You’re the worst, fuck.” He sounds breathy, and Josh can see his free hand gripping the loose fabric of his sweats along his thigh, the other still holding Josh’s wrist limply.
Josh bites down lightly, not enough to leave a mark but enough to hear the soft, nearly inaudible little whine in Jalen’s throat.
“Book it then,” he says, twisting his wrist out of Jalen’s grip and grabbing his phone to toss it into his lap. Jalen’s fingers fumble to unlock it, and Josh nips at his neck just to hear Jalen swear softly under his breath, mistyping the search. But he doesn’t move away, and Josh noses behind his ear, pressing his lips to the spot there that always makes Jalen weak-kneed when he touches it.
He remembers discovering that accidentally—before they’d ever done anything—when they were wrestling after a game at Nova and he got his hand around Jalen’s neck, thumb behind his ear in order to shake him down. Jalen’s knees had buckled and they’d both gone still, Jalen’s eyes wide and startled, pupils huge in the fluorescent light of the locker room, Josh suddenly so turned on he could barely think. Then Kal had come in and they’d broken apart, Jalen disappearing into the showers and Josh so distracted thinking about what he was doing in there he didn’t even remember what Kal had been talking to him about.
“Fuck, okay,” Jalen says shakily, drawing Josh back to the present. “It’s done.”
Josh hums approvingly and finally sits back, smug when Jalen’s body lists into him to follow before he catches himself and settles back into his seat. He scowls at Josh, the effect ruined by his flushed cheeks.
“You should get some rest, champ,” Josh says with a grin.
“So should you, champ,” Jalen shoots back, crossing his arms and tipping his chin up. Brat, Josh thinks fondly.
“You can’t sleep, can you?” Josh says and Jalen rubs his wrist, making a face. The noise from the boys filters back in, just as rowdy as before. They’re all too wired, too jumped up on adrenaline to settle down, no matter how exhausted and achy they all are. And Josh wonders if they’ve got the other thing too—the restless, heated energy that Josh feels when he looks at Jalen, that he can tell Jalen feels by the way he bounces his knee and keeps touching the Larry like he still can’t quite believe it’s theirs.
Josh snags a half drunk bottle of champagne from nearby and raises it up high.
“To Captain Clutch!” he yells and there’s a responding cheer as Josh swigs a drink from the bottle, then hands it to Jalen. He watches as the others goad him into drinking more, his own lips burning as Jalen puts his mouth to the lip of the bottle, where Josh’s own spit still shines, a little flustered but grinning as he takes a long sip. He drags his eyes away before he can incriminate himself further and throws himself into the festivities, until one by one people start to nod off, the exhaustion hitting all their bodies.
Josh comes back from the bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his sweats, and sees Jalen clutching the Larry, head drooping and then jerking up. Fondness threatens to overwhelm Josh—he knows he’s doomed because he finds it cute, Jalen’s big ass forehead finally free of the cap and wrinkled between his eyebrows as he fights the sleep.
“Go to sleep, JB,” he murmurs, settling down next to him. “It’ll be here when you wake up.”
Jalen grunts, nose scrunching, and Josh just pushes his own seat back, closing his eyes.
“You’ll need your energy for later,” he warns and he hears Jalen scoff, muttering something insulting under his breath. Josh doesn’t open his eyes, waiting patiently, and sure enough, a few minutes later he feels a weight on his shoulder as Jalen finally drifts off to sleep, Josh as his pillow, the Larry in his arms.
An hour of sleep has done nothing except make them all feel a little unhinged, Josh thinks as they finally deboard the plane. Not enough time to sleep off their drunkenness or exhaustion, but enough time to make everyone’s aches and pains noticeable. Alvarado is ready to keep going, and a few of the others seem to be gearing up to join him.
Jalen keeps rubbing his wrist, pained line between his brows, and he’s limping slightly on that sore ankle. Josh glances around quickly to make sure nobody’s paying attention to them and reaches out to touch the small of his back lightly.
“You good?”
Jalen gives him a look through his lashes and Josh’s breath hitches. Oh.
“Call us a cab,” is all Jalen says and Josh scrambles to find his phone, booking the fastest Uber he can get.
The ride to the hotel is tense, Josh half hard already from the anticipation, even as he watches with increasing concern at the way Jalen holds his wrist.
“C’mon man,” he says and Jalen huffs.
“It’s fine. I’ll get it looked at.” After, is the unspoken word and Josh swallows, throat dry, wondering how the control flipped on him. He had the upper hand all night and now Jalen keeps giving him looks, eyes glinting under each flash of streetlight they pass. It makes him look like he’s hunting him, the eye shine of a predator, and Josh wets his lips, shifting in his seat. All that considerable attention on him is a headrush, powerful and intoxicating, and he wonders how anyone against him on the court can even stand it.
Luckily, Josh has always had an ego and he thrives on the attention, thrives on making Jalen break. And it seems like Jalen has had enough of waiting if the way he’s watching him is any indication. Josh meets his gaze head-on, letting his own hunger show, and he can see Jalen’s nostrils flare, sees the flash of white teeth when he bites his lower lip. Heat coils in Josh’s belly and it’s a good thing the Uber pulls up to their hotel or else Josh has no idea what he would’ve done. Launched himself at Jalen in the backseat of the car probably and then the driver would’ve sold that to the nearest tabloid.
He can see the headlines now: NBA CHAMPION AND FINALS MVP JALEN BRUNSON AND TEAMMATE JOSH HART CAUGHT “CELEBRATING” IN THE BACKSEAT OF CAR or some shit like that, he doesn’t know. What he does know is they somehow get their keys without being noticed, and he can hear Jalen breathe out hard through his nose as they get in the elevator, the doors sliding closed with a quiet ping.
Josh takes an aborted step forward.
“Don’t.” Josh freezes and Jalen looks at him, eyes burning and hot and Josh knows with startling clarity why he said that. Jalen is about to break, body nearly trembling with pent-up desire, and if Josh touches him now they won’t stop until some poor idiot finds them naked in the elevator.
Josh wets his lips with his tongue, a deep thrill going through him when Jalen’s eyes immediately go to his mouth, his own parting on a hitch.
“So easy, baby,” Josh says lowly and Jalen just stares at him with those dark, cavernous eyes.
“Ten weeks,” Jalen says hoarsely and Josh does move forward this time, reaching out to cup his cheek with one hand and feel the way Jalen sags into it with a shuddering exhale.
“Ten weeks,” he agrees, wrapping an arm around his waist and practically holding his entire weight up. “Bet you didn’t even jerk off, did you?”
“Couldn’t,” is all Jalen says, eyes fluttering shut and he’s already becoming unwound. Josh needs to get him into their room immediately because nobody is allowed to see Jalen like this, vulnerable and soft and slough-eyed, except for him.
He nudges their noses together, lips brushing Jalen’s as he says, “I know you couldn’t.”
The elevator door opens and the sound Jalen makes when Josh has to pull away makes Josh’s teeth itch, the desire to claim so strong it almost hurts. His own arousal is an afterthought to the burning need to get Jalen alone and stripped of everything except base emotions, until he’s that sweet, insecure shy thing he knew at Nova. The one who wasn’t confident in anything except basketball, the one who took Josh’s bullying with the kind of stride that said he’d been hit before and nothing Josh could do would phase him.
Jalen grew up with a worse bully than a 20-year-old Josh.
As soon as the door to the hotel room closes, Jalen sways towards him and says, “Josh,” voice cracking, and Josh presses him forward against the door and kisses him. He cups his face between his hands to tilt it up and lick into his mouth, starving, desperate, hunger pangs in his stomach not for food but for Jalen—the way his hands come up to clutch Josh’s shirt, the way his back arches to push his body into Josh’s chest. How he gasps against him as Josh drags his tongue along the roof of his mouth, all the way to his back molars. He wants to choke Jalen on him, to make sure all Jalen tastes is him, sleep-sour and sharp with old champagne and wine.
Jalen moans and Josh swallows that down, greedy for it all, for the noises, for the way they’re both panting so hard against each other’s mouths that they can barely kiss anymore.
“Bed,” Jalen rasps and Josh wastes no time, spinning them around and continuing to kiss Jalen as he walks him back to the bed, until his knees buckle when he hits the frame and he falls back, sprawled on the mattress.
Jalen looks up at him, lips swollen and cherry red, cheeks pink and chest heaving.
Josh kicks his shoes off without looking away and then pounces, pinning Jalen’s wrists to the bed and leaning down to kiss him again as he straddles his hips.
Jalen spasms, face creasing with pain and Josh pulls back slightly.
“JB?” he murmurs and Jalen just tips his chin up to graze their noses together.
“Careful,” he says, and Josh loosens his grip on the wrist that’s been hurting him until Jalen sighs and goes loose under him again.
“We should shower,” he says after a moment and Josh nearly growls.
“If you try to get outta this bed I’m gonna fuck you on the floor, so we can either do this comfortable style or with rug burn on your knees, take your pick.”
Josh can see the way Jalen’s pupils dilate at that, growing fat and overtaking the brown, and he smirks, nipping at his lower lips as he rolls his hips down. Jalen’s hard already, heavy against him.
“Thought so,” Josh says and Jalen just bites at his jaw in retaliation because Jalen might be sweet sometimes for him, might be polite and poker-faced to everyone else, but he’s also mean. He’s like Josh—that hungry dog inside them both finding something it wants and clamping down with the bite force of a pitbull, not letting go for anything.
Josh hears himself laugh, a breathy, incredulous thing as he tips his chin up to let Jalen gnaw at him. Unlike Jalen, Josh relishes marks that people can see, thrills at the way people will clock it and purposefully not ask. He wants his neck so marked up from Jalen’s teeth that it’s still visible during their fucking Championship parade.
He wants to scream, look at what I have, look who’s mine, from the rooftops, from the streets of New York fucking City and it wouldn’t even matter because their wives know that the two of them are a package deal, that there is no JB without Josh, no Josh without Jalen.
Josh finally pulls back and Jalen makes a disappointed little noise that nearly has Josh breaking and leaning in for another kiss, but he has to focus, has to get Jalen out of those clothes, needs to see him naked on these white sheets. He rolls off of Jalen.
“Clothes,” he says. “Off.” Jalen scrambles to do as he says, just as desperate as he is. He gets caught up in watching Jalen strip, halfway out of his pants, staring as more of that muscled, hairy body is revealed to him.
Josh has always liked how much hair Jalen has all over his body, likes that he doesn’t wax it. On quieter days, near the end of his time at Nova when they spent nearly every night in bed together, he liked to run his fingers down Jalen’s arm and feel the downy softness of it. He likes Jalen’s thighs, strong and thick, his wide hips. And of course his best asset (pause), the ass that made him wonder how the hell this freshie was gonna be an even mediocre basketball player, much less the prodigy he was touted to be, with a body type like that.
“Well?” Jalen says and Josh startles, realizing he’s been staring at Jalen so long that Jalen’s already naked and Josh is still half in his clothes. Josh scrambles out of his own, nearly tripping on his sweats in a way that has Jalen laughing at him, the asshole, and Josh has to get on the bed to stare down and get a good look at him. Jalen’s laughter dies as he gazes back at Josh, red to his ears, one of his twists strewn over his forehead.
“MVP, MVP,” Josh chants softly and Jalen blushes, tipping his head to the side of the pillow like he’s trying to hide but Josh can see the way his dick jerks at his words, giving him away. That big ego, Josh thinks amused. He didn’t used to be like this, but who could blame him? He just won them a fucking ring.
“Shut up,” Jalen says and Josh grins.
“Naw, baby, I don’t think I will. Gotta get a good look at you to see what an MVP looks like.”
“Josh,” Jalen huffs, and Josh can see the red flush starting to crawl down his chest, his nipples dark and peaked.
“Don’t act like you don’t like it, JB,” Josh says, leaning his weight on one arm so he can trail a hand down the curve of his throat. “From everyone callin’ you too small, too unathletic, too slow, to this. Look at you.”
Josh can feel the way Jalen swallows, thumb pressed to his adam’s apple. He doesn’t have to look to know that Jalen’s cock is leaking pre along his belly, the praise getting to him like he knew it would.
“Josh,” Jalen says again, but this time it’s different. This time Jalen’s voice has a pleading edge, and Josh traces his thumb up along Jalen’s jaw, the soft, scruffy beard, then finally rests it on that full lower lip, still swollen from the kissing. His lips part and Josh pushes his thumb into his mouth, watching Jalen’s eyes droop as he sucks on it immediately. Josh hisses out a breath, suddenly very aware of how hard his own dick is. If Josh wasn’t desperate to fuck Jalen and Jalen wasn’t desperate to get fucked, he’d get Jalen down onto his knees and make him sit there with Josh’s cock in his mouth until he was drooling and incoherent, so out of it that there’s nothing left in that over-working brain of his except the taste of Josh on his tongue.
Maybe tomorrow morning, he thinks as he pulls his thumb out of Jalen’s mouth, ignoring his bereft whine. He’ll get the softest pillow to protect those priceless point guard knees and fuck Jalen’s mouth until his voice is shot. Josh’s cock twitches at the thought and he swears.
“D’you got lube?” he asks and Jalen’s dazed expression sharpens a little at that.
“You don’t?” he asks incredulously and Josh makes a face at him as Jalen props himself up onto his elbows to watch him rummage through his duffel.
By the time he finds it, Jalen’s laughing at him again, those dark eyes amused, and Josh would feel more annoyed about it if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Jalen laugh since pre playoffs, stress lines around his eyes and mouth eased.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Josh grouses and tosses the lube onto Jalen’s chest, Jalen grunting softly. “Warm that up for me, babe, would you?”
Jalen shoots him a dirty look but he flops back and curls his hands around the tube, rolling it between his fingers. Josh settles down next to him for a moment and watches him, reaching out to carefully grasp his wrist. Jalen lets Josh study it, tracing the swelling along the tendons. They’re both uncharacteristically quiet, Jalen never looking away as Josh presses a soft kiss to the pulse point on the inside of his swollen wrist.
“Won us a chip with these hands,” Josh murmurs and Jalen inhales sharply, fingers curling in Josh’s loose grip. “Played through the pain and scored 45 fucking points.” Josh traces the line of his palm, then takes Jalen’s hand and presses it to his chest, where his heart beats under it. Jalen splays his hand wider, looking from Josh’s chest to his face. He gazes steadily at Jalen, an open book. Hopes he can see what he’s thinking, which is that he’d let Jalen scoop his heart out and hold it, still beating, in his palms. Broken wrist and all.
Jalen’s breath hitches.
“Josh,” he whispers, and Josh leans forward, trapping Jalen’s hand between them as he presses their lips together. It’s slower than before, less of the frantic, restless energy that’s been dogging them since they won, since he cornered Jalen outside the bathroom and kissed him until they were both panting. Josh cups the side of Jalen’s neck, thumb pressing down on that spot behind Jalen’s ear just to hear him moan and melt into him, boneless and so warm.
“Please,” Jalen says, so quiet when they break apart, and there’s the sweet, needy thing he remembers from back in the day, the one who sighed so softly the first time Josh kissed him, cramped in his twin extra long bed.
“Yeah,” Josh murmurs, lips buzzing from the kiss. “I got you, baby.” He takes the lube, now warmed from Jalen’s hand, and reluctantly pulls away from Jalen to settle between his spread legs. Jalen blushes faintly, because for all of his newfound confidence that he’s settled into as the Knicks’ captain, this still embarrasses him a little—liking it, needing it as badly as he sometimes does. That little voice in his head telling him he isn’t a man for wanting this. Which is stupid as fuck, considering he’s done it himself plenty of times with Shannon and she’s never made him feel less than for enjoying it.
“Ain’t no shame in wanting this, baby,” he says, like he always does, like he can beat Rick Brunson’s voice out of Jalen’s head if he just says it enough times. He runs a hand down one muscular thigh, listening to Jalen’s shaky exhale. He waits for Jalen’s nod before he uncaps the bottle, pouring it messily on his fingers. Sometimes Jalen wants it to hurt, wants the prep minimal and the stretch a little painful. And even just fifteen minutes earlier he might have wanted it like that tonight too.
But Josh is feeling soft, his heart full. Jalen’s already hurting—his ankle, his wrist, the bruises all over his body from the beating the Spurs put him through when they constantly surrounded him, bullying him with their size. And like always, Jalen pushed through. Like always, he came out the other side, comfortable being underestimated, comfortable as the underdog.
It makes Josh want to take care of him, to hear those little sighs as he carefully stretches him open, to feel the way the muscles in his powerful thighs flex as Josh slides a finger into him. Jalen tips his head back against the pillow, exposing that thick, gleaming neck as he shudders, and Josh leans up, thankful for his long arms so he can lick the drop of sweat sliding down into the hollow of his throat.
Jalen is tight—it’s been more than ten weeks since they did this, too busy, too locked in, too caught up in other responsibilities to find time. Besides, it’s not like they plan this. They’ve never been an established thing—more a nebulous, fragile moment liable to shatter if they look at it too closely, or talk about it too directly. The closest they got was Josh’s last year at Nova, Jalen in his bed like he belonged there, the two of them playing footsie under the table while Mikal and Donte pretended not to notice.
“Josh,” Jalen breathes, toes curling, and Josh adds a second finger, leaning down to suck the head of Jalen’s cock into his mouth. He arches with a shout, fingers curling in the sheets, and Josh knows he can’t tease Jalen like this for too long because he loves this too much on its own—Josh’s fingers pressed inside him like a claim—can come untouched from it even now at nearly 30 years old.
But for now Josh laps at the bittersweet taste of Jalen’s pre, feeling him twitch in his mouth with a soft hum. Jalen moans, eyes wide and wet as he gazes at Josh with a dazed expression. He gives Jalen’s dick a final suck as he adds a third finger, and now Jalen is writhing on the bed, lithe body arching and serpentine and so fucking gorgeous Josh could weep.
“So sexy for me, y’know?” he rasps and Jalen shudders, whining softly. “You’re so fucking sexy sometimes it drives me crazy.” He curls his fingers, searching for that spongy, soft spot inside of him that will make him jolt like he’s been electrocuted. “Makin’ shots with a fuckin’ broken wrist, outsmarting that French wannabe monk everyone says is the smartest guy on and off the court these days.”
Jalen is flushed all over, splotchy red along his chest, his cheeks, even up to his forehead. Josh crooks his fingers up and makes a pleased sound at the hoarse cry Jalen lets out, dick twitching against his belly. Jackpot.
“Makes me so hot. ‘S hard to stop myself from showing everyone you’re mine.” Jalen shudders, toes curling as Josh presses mercilessly against his prostate. “Because that’s what you are, right?” He licks his lips. “Mine.”
“Josh,” Jalen pants raggedly with a sharp edge, and Josh’s eyes widen because that’s Jalen’s desperate voice, that’s his get the fuck in me now or else voice, and Josh slides his fingers out and slicks himself up, hissing at the first touch to his cock since this started. He’s almost too sensitive for it, and the sensation only gets worse when he sees Jalen looking at him through his eyelashes, eyes on the hand stroking his dick. He catches Josh’s gaze and he spreads his legs wider.
“Fuck,” Josh says and Jalen flashes his teeth like a shark.
“Now, Josh,” he demands, the sweet boy from Villanova gone and in his place the confident, self-assured man he’s become. Josh wastes no time, settling between him and sliding a pillow under Jalen’s hips before he slowly, so, so slowly, begins to push in.
Jalen’s mouth drops open and Josh can feel himself do the same, his heart thundering in his ears. Jalen is still so tight despite the prep, hot inside like a fucking furnace and Josh has to clutch the pillow above Jalen and breathe, arced over him. He keeps pushing in, watching as Jalen’s teeth sink into his own lower lip, as he huffs out through his nose but he doesn’t ask for Josh to stop, stares him down when Josh even so much as thinks about pausing for a moment.
“Josh, fuck,” Jalen bites out as Josh finally bottoms out with a gasp, his hand coming around to hike Jalen’s left thigh up and around his waist. The shift in position gets him in even deeper and they both swear, Josh quick and sharp and Jalen low and breathy.
“Killing me,” Josh accuses and Jalen laughs shakily.
“Thought you said you were gonna fuck me ‘til I screamed,” he says and whatever face Josh makes in response to that has Jalen clenching around him with a desperate noise, head thrown back when Josh finally begins to move.
“Don’t worry,” Josh says, so turned on he’s burning up with it, so in love it hurts. “When’ve I ever broken a promise t’you?”
Jalen’s mouth opens to presumably answer that like a smartass but whatever he’s about to say breaks off into a warbling moan when Josh fucks up into him hard, his good hand coming up to grasp at the headboard behind him.
“So fucking bitchy,” Josh slurs, and it’s animal what they’re doing, pure base fucking, Josh’s hips thrusting, Jalen’s moving to meet him and slapping skin on skin, the sound lewd and loud in the room between their ragged panting. It’s ten weeks of no contact at all, longer than that since the last time they did this, all coming together to make them claw at each other like they can’t decide if they want to fuck or eat each other alive. Josh relishes in the sting of Jalen’s nails on his skin, the scratch marks he knows will be all down his back when this is over.
And Jalen is keening, begging with his body for bruises made from Josh’s mouth and his hands, bruises to cover up the ones from the other team, from the hard floor of the court, from all the work and none of the pleasure.
Their foreheads are pressed together and Josh knows he’s dripping sweat on Jalen’s face, can feel a droplet slide from the bridge of his nose down Jalen’s cheek. He pulls back slightly to get a look at him and sees that Jalen is crying, like he did on the court when they won, like he was under that towel when Josh found him, eyelashes wet and eyes wide and dark and Josh’s hips stutter because he’s never seen Jalen look at him like this.
“Jalen?” he breathes, slowing down, and Jalen shivers, tipping his head to the side and sniffling like he wants to hide but Josh won’t let him, not this time, leaning forward until he’s nearly bent Jalen in half to cup his face with one trembling hand and force him to look at him. He spares a thought to marvel at how flexible Jalen is, crediting the yoga and stretching he knows Jalen still does regularly.
“JB?” he says again, and Jalen closes his eyes tightly, overwhelmed.
“You—Josh,” Jalen sounds broken and Josh wipes one of the tears from his cheek as it slides down to his thumb.
“Yeah, baby, ‘m right here,” he says, mouthing against his jaw until he tips Jalen’s chin up to suck a bruise just under his jaw line, half hidden by the beard but still obvious to anyone who would look.
Jalen whines shakily, the hand on the headboard coming down to wrap around Josh and keep him close.
“Say it again,” Jalen begs brokenly as Josh sucks another bruise further down his neck, this time where there’s no beard to hide it. Jalen still doesn’t push him away.
“Say what?” Josh asks, mouthing at his skin as he fucks slowly into him, feeling Jalen’s nails sink into his back on a particularly deep thrust.
“That I’m—” his voice breaks and Josh pauses, pulls back to look down at him, to get a clear view of his face.
Jalen stares up at him with that same new expression on his face, cracked open and unguarded.
“That you’re what?” Josh whispers, wanting to hear him say it, turned on and so close and desperately, achingly in love.
“Josh.” Jalen’s voice is so quiet, barely a breath. Another tear rolls down his cheek and it makes Josh feel insane, makes him want to bottle them up and show them off to the world because those tears are for him. Josh feels faint, like he won the Larry all over again except this time it’s something even more rare, something one of a kind.
This time he’s won Jalen.
“That you’re mine?” Josh says and Jalen closes his eyes again, breath punched out of him like he’s absorbing a blow. “You are mine. No contest, baby. You’re mine.” He starts to move again, this time chasing the orgasm they’re both desperate for, knows Jalen’s close by the way he goes quieter and his body sinks bonelessly into the mattress, tears still rolling down his cheeks as he stares up at Josh intently, so desperately, like just the idea of looking away would kill him.
“You got us the Larry, the ring, the chip,” Josh pants, heart roaring in his ears. He presses a messy kiss to his cheek, licking the taste of Jalen’s tears from his lips. “But I think I got somethin’ better ‘n allat.” He’s slurring, and Jalen is shivering under him, clinging tighter and tighter.
“Know what it is, JB?” he asks and Jalen thrashes under him when Josh bends him in half again, getting in so deep Jalen hiccups, cock twitching fat and thick against his belly.
“Wh–” Jalen starts but can’t seem to finish, dazed and all sweet for Josh once again and Josh is so fucking close.
“It’s you,” Josh says and Jalen arches up as best as he can in the position Josh has him in, gasping out an approximation of Josh’s name as he spills sudden and untouched between them. It’s enough to push Josh over the edge, thrusting once, then twice more before he comes hot and claiming inside him.
Josh pants hard, heart galloping in his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Jalen looks like he feels the same if not more out of it, tears still running messily down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat. Slowly, Josh leans back, carefully shifting so that Jalen’s no longer stretched to his limit, a soft sigh escaping Jalen’s mouth as his body straightens out. Jalen makes a grumpy, disagreeing noise when Josh begins to pull out, using those powerful thighs to keep Josh inside him.
Josh hisses, oversensitive softening dick twitching inside of Jalen and Jalen gasps softly at that, mouth parted. He still can’t seem to speak, but he also won’t stop looking at Josh, his gaze searching for something that Josh has no idea if he’ll find.
“Jalen,” Josh croaks and Jalen tugs at Josh’s head, trying to pull him in closer. Josh sighs and rests their foreheads together, eyes closing as they stay like that for a long moment. He listens to Jalen’s breath even out, his own following suit. Always synced up, the two of them, he thinks, dazed.
“Can’t stay like this forever,” he murmurs and Jalen grunts, but he does finally let Josh slip out of him. Josh hums and presses his lips to the bridge of Jalen’s cheekbone briefly before he settles down in between Jalen’s legs and stares down at the mess of his come leaking out of him. He wonders if Jalen would shove him away if he leaned down to clean him up with his tongue, if he’d make the same kinda noises a girl makes when he eats them out. He’s never done that with JB before and now he wonders if Jalen has.
“Josh, what’re you—” Jalen’s first words back are cut off with a surprised gasp when Josh leans down to lick a stripe from his hole to his taint. “Josh!”
He sounds scandalized which makes Josh want to do it more, ignoring the tug to his braids as he presses the flat of his tongue to Jalen’s hole. He makes a face at the taste of his own come, but when Jalen’s thighs clench around his face and he hears his loud cry, he knows he’s gotta keep going. He did say he’d make Jalen scream, after all.
Josh isn’t ashamed to say he loses himself a little, spreading Jalen’s ass cheeks wide with his hands and licking into him with enthusiasm. Jalen is loud for this, embarrassment giving way to ragged, overstimulated keens and moans, even as his hips can’t seem to decide if they want to grind down on Josh’s tongue or move away. He wonders if he can get Jalen to come again, knows that Jalen doesn’t even need to get hard again for it to happen, but the last time they did that Jalen was 19 and his body got riled up at the slightest touch.
“Josh,” Jalen says, louder and more urgent. “Josh.” And by now Jalen is clean, doesn’t taste like anything but himself, but Josh is going to get him to scream if it’s the last thing he does, even if it means suffocating between Jalen’s thighs. (What a damn good way to go, he thinks dizzily).
“Jo—fuck,” and there it is, Jalen’s body tensing like the string of a bow, pulled taut, and all Josh needs to do now is press his finger to his taint as he licks in as deep as he can, jaw aching, and Jalen screams, ragged and hoarse, before he slumps back down all at once.
“Mercy,” he croaks, shoving at Josh’s face and this time he does pull back, looking at his handiwork. Jalen has red marks along his inner thighs from Josh’s stubble and his belly is wet, soft dick drooling from his second orgasm. He looks wiped, eyes half-closed as he tries to catch his breath again.
Josh grins, feeling the ache in his jaw and proud of it. He wants to kiss Jalen, but then he thinks for a moment.
“Lemme brush my teeth,” he says and Jalen snorts, still so boneless he barely moves when Josh scrambles off the bed. Josh hums around the toothbrush and leans against the bathroom doorway to look at Jalen, already halfway to falling asleep. He goes back in to spit and rinse the toothpaste out of his mouth before making his way back to JB with a damp washcloth.
“You can sleep,” he says and Jalen scrunches his nose.
“‘M dirty,” he says and Josh leans down to kiss him, a slow, sweet thing that ends with a little sigh from Jalen as Josh nips at his lower lip.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says gently, wiping the tears from his face first with the towel, and then moving lower and cleaning his chest. “You know I always gotchu.”
Jalen mumbles something that Josh doesn’t catch but he grasps Jalen’s flailing hand and presses another kiss to his palm before laying it on his chest. He gives himself a cursory wipe down and then prods Jalen awake enough to make him drink a full glass of water before he lets him curl back up against the sheets. Josh gets up to hang the towel and then piss.
“J’sh,” he hears as he’s wiping his hands. He makes his way out, Jalen blinking at him with those big sleepy eyes. “Y’came back,” he says, sounding groggy and surprised. Josh’s chest aches; he’s so down bad it’s embarrassing.
“Course I did, JB,” he says, settling behind him, chest pressed to Jalen’s back, arm wrapped around him and hand resting on his chest. Josh presses his nose to the back of Jalen’s neck, inhaling that musky scent of him, as familiar to him as his own body. Jalen sighs, resting his bad wrist over Josh’s hand, not quite intertwining their fingers but trusting that Josh won’t roll over and aggravate the injury more than it already is. Josh’s breath catches at that, at the trust he’s always known he has but still sometimes bowls him over. He’s not sure he deserves it, thinking of the way they met, the bully Josh used to be.
But he’s not really that guy anymore, is he? Not where it matters. Josh squeezes Jalen gently and Jalen grunts, already nearly asleep.
“St’p thinkin’,” Jalen mumbles, which is rich coming from him of all people. Josh snorts and Jalen squeezes his hand. “Josh.” He sounds a little more awake, which is just unacceptable.
“Yeah, yeah,” Josh murmurs. “Go to sleep.”
“You first,” he says, bossy as always, and Josh smothers his smile against Jalen’s shoulder, staying quiet as he listens to Jalen’s deepening breath. He closes his eyes and, as he always does, follows Jalen into the dark.