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Sebastian is a straight guy, respectful to the bone, a quiet gentleman, capable of genuine empathy, as much as any man can manage, and most important of all, he likes women.
If forced to name the three things that make him happiest, every single entry would still be jazz, that is how hopelessly devoted he is.
By the rigid definition of a “real man” Sebastian rates Jacob a flat three out of ten.
But man to man? Sebastian thinks Jacob Palmer might deserve a slightly different view, because Jacob is, unmistakably, a bit of a dandy, sharp jaw, carefully maintained stubble, the kind of easy physical confidence that turns heads without trying.
Three out of ten still felt painfully low when he thought about it.
“...”
Sebastian’s eyes kept sliding away from the figure in front of him, he knew exactly what he was trying not to see, the warm amber light of the bedroom lamp caught the pale line of a collarbone, the faint sheen of skin already exposed, he refused to look.
“So how much longer are you going to leave me standing here naked by myself?”
Sebastian wasn’t particularly fond of Jacob’s attitude.
“Can I still change my mind and go home?”
Especially the way the man kept needling, voice low and amused, never quite letting the air settle.
“We already agreed on this, you need to open yourself up to new things, you can’t reject me every single time.”
Sebastian never understood why he wasn’t allowed to keep rejecting the man in front of him, he couldn’t fathom why he had chosen Jacob Palmer to be his first, with a man, of all people. Jacob Palmer? That notorious womanizer who picks up girls from bars left and right? Damn it, Wilder, what the hell were you thinking?
“The fact that you’re standing here naked in front of me isn’t making me feel any more comfortable.”
The air felt warmer than it should. Sebastian could already catch the faint clean scent of Jacob’s skin, soap and something sharper underneath.
“And the fact that you still haven’t taken your clothes off is starting to piss me off too, or would you rather I undress you myself?”
This entire mess was how the phrase “a straight man who wants to try bottoming” had been born.
“You think I’d find it sexy if you helped me undress?”
“So you’re rejecting me?”
“Shut up, Palmer.”
Sebastian pushed himself upright, the difference in height was only a few centimeters, but standing this close he could feel the heat radiating off Jacob’s bare chest, the soft scrape of bare feet on hardwood, the quiet tick of a clock somewhere down the hall.
Jacob’s hand rose, palm open, fingers already reaching for the first button of Sebastian’s brown shirt, before Sebastian slapped it back down to his side.
For Sebastian, the gym had never been a priority. His body was lean from long hours at the piano, not sculpted for display.
His fingers, long, precise, the same ones that could coax melody from ivory, began working the buttons open one by one, the fabric whispered against itself, cool air touched the skin of his chest as each button gave way.
Under the loose shirt lay a plain white tank top, the thin cotton clung slightly to the faint definition of his arms and the soft hollow of his collarbones, compared to Jacob’s more obvious muscle, Sebastian looked almost understated, just enough strength in the biceps to play for hours, or to leave a red mark across Jacob’s face if he needed to.
Those same careful hands moved lower, the metal of the belt buckle clicked softly, the leather slid free with a quiet hiss, beneath the dark slacks, form-fitting boxer briefs the color of charcoal hugged the narrow line of his hips, contrasting sharply with the white of the tank.
“Honestly, Jacob, I’m not comfortable being naked in front of you.”
His voice came out lower than he intended, the room suddenly felt too small, the air thick with the faint scent of laundry detergent and skin.
“You’re uncomfortable undressing in front of me?”
Or perhaps he was simply uncomfortable with the way the floor seemed to tilt under his feet every time he stepped further outside the safe lines he had drawn around himself.
“No. I just don’t like your face.”
“That stings a little.”
Or maybe he simply refused to admit that the clean lines of Jacob’s body looked better under the warm light, both explanations worked.
“Let me help—”
“No.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Jacob stopped waiting, strong hands settled on Sebastian’s shoulders and pushed him into the mattress under his back with a soft sigh of springs and fabric, the sheets were cool against the thin cotton of his tank.
“Did you prepare yourself?”
The preparation Jacob meant was the kind needed for sex between men, where the receiver had to do (according to internet advice).
Sebastian only nodded, the movement felt stiff.
“It’ll hurt less if you lie on your stomach.”
“Good. I’m sick of looking at your face.”
He rolled over without further protest. He folded his arms and pressed his face into the crook of one elbow, breathing in the clean scent of detergent and the faint metallic tang of nerves, he felt the weight of something settling near the foot of the bed and the mattress dipping. Oh, he wouldn’t look, whoever climbed onto the bed after him, he absolutely refused to lift his head and make eye contact.
“I’m asking again. Are you really okay with this?”
“Yeah. Damn it.”
No hesitation, even though his pulse was already loud in his own ears.
“I’m not forcing you.”
“Jacob, you said we already agreed. I’ve already decided I don’t like your face, but that’s not going to be a reason for me to change my mind and run home if you keep asking over and over like this.”
He had already gone through the uncomfortable ritual of preparation, backing out now would make every minute of it feel like a waste, he sure had the right, but another quieter voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, it would not be as bad as the tight knot in his stomach kept insisting.
No. He was lying to himself, he had hated the enema and the residual sensitivity that still lingered.
The boxer briefs were yanked down in one smooth motion, cool air rushed over newly exposed skin, the fabric slid away with a soft rasp. Sebastian only pressed his face harder into his arms, filling his mind with half-remembered jazz progressions so he would not have to think about the sudden vulnerability of bare skin against the sheets.
“Are we really gonna do this?”
“You’re making me feel bad, Sebastian.”
“Good to know.”
The sharp click of a bottle cap made him flinch, a moment later something cool and slick touched the curve of his ass, the gel was thicker than he expected, slightly sticky at first, then warming against his skin, the scent of it was mild, almost medicinal
A broad palm settled over one cheek, the heat of Jacob’s hand startling against the cooler gel, rough-smooth fingertips began to stroke in slow, deliberate circles, the sensation was almost gentle at first, the drag of skin, the wet glide of gel, until those fingers drifted inward and stopped exactly where Sebastian least wanted them.
“You’re really okay?”
How could he be, when the blunt pad of a fingertip was already pressing, testing, slowly pushing past the tight ring of muscle?
The stretch was immediate and intimate, a low, unfamiliar pressure bloomed deep inside him, more invasive than painful, but still enough to make his breath catch.
“…Mm.”
He did not want to answer, the sound escaped anyway, half-muffled against his arm, because silence would only make Jacob stop.
The finger sank deeper, the stretch intensified, one knuckle, then two, heat and fullness radiated outward. Sebastian’s thighs only tensed against the sheets.
“Does it hurt?”
“Just…weirdly full.”
By now it was probably three knuckles, he thought, the pressure was dense, constant, a steady ache of invasion that made him want to shift and stay perfectly still at the same time.
Jacob’s finger flexed, the movement was slow, searching, then the soft warm inside of his was yielded under the careful pressure. Sebastian could feel every subtle shift, the warmth of the finger, the slick slide of gel, the way his own body clenched instinctively around the intrusion.
He still could not understand how anyone ever claimed this felt good, right now the sensation was only pressure and strangeness and the raw awareness of being opened.
“Oh god…”
The fingertip found a soft, slightly firmer place and pressed, a sharp, unexpected spark of sensation shot through his lower belly and down the insides of his thighs, his muscles jumped, and the finger stayed there, pressing again, lighter this time, as if testing for a reaction.
Sebastian bit down hard on his lower lip. The taste of copper bloomed faintly. He was not trying to stay quiet, he simply just no longer understood the signals his body was sending.
One finger became two, the stretch widened, circling motions turned into a careful scissoring that forced him open further, the wet sound of gel and skin was soft but unmistakable in the quiet room, the flutter low in his stomach grew stronger, hot, confusing.
“People actually like this?”
His voice came out thinner than he wanted.
“No one’s given me a bad review yet.”
“Sure. Mr. Expert.”
Almost against his will, Sebastian shifted his knees a fraction wider, the sheets bunched under his thighs, the small surrender gave Jacob’s hand more room, and the fingers took it without hesitation.
“Oh?”
“Palmer.”
Minutes stretched, the initial sharp stretch softened into something almost bearable, a low, constant awareness that refused to fade, he hated how quickly his body was beginning to adjust.
“Do you usually foreplay this bad?”
Jacob shifted, the mattress dipped, warm breath brushed the back of Sebastian’s neck as Jacob leaned down, still keeping his fingers buried deep.
“Will you let me kiss you?”
“No.”
“What if I just want to hold you?”
“That’s not allowed either.”
A long, quiet exhale against his skin, It was obvious why Sebastian said his foreplay was bad, and it’s because he wasn’t allowed to do anything.
Strong arms slid under him, Sebastian found himself pulled upright, his back settling against the solid heat of Jacob’s chest, bare skin met bare skin, the scent of Jacob, warm, clean, faintly salty with the first traces of sweat, filled his lungs, one arm locked firmly around his waist, the other still working slowly between his legs.
“This isn’t allowed, that isn’t allowed. You know, Seb… sometimes I think you refuse to let me treat this like something that could actually feel good.”
The words vibrated against the side of his neck, meanwhile the two fingers never stopped their measured in-and-out glide, the wet sound soft and rhythmic.
“You won’t even look at any of this as sexy.”
Sebastian could no longer pretend the sensation was only discomfort, every slow thrust of those fingers sent a low pulse of heat through his abdomen, the pressure against that internal spot made his breath hitch.
“Jacob—your hand.”
He reached back, fingers closing around the forearm locked across his stomach, the skin under his grip was warm, the muscle firm, as he tried to pry the arm away.
Then a warm breath ghosted over the shell of his ear.
“You don’t believe I can make you feel good.”
Sebastian’s thighs clamped shut, trapping Jacob’s wrist between them, the flutter in his belly intensified, almost dizzying, every time the fingers curled.
“Enough.”
The word came out rough, his thoughts already scattered, he was trembling without realizing it, thighs shaking, eyes squeezed shut, brows drawn tight, lips pressed white, nails digging crescents into Jacob’s forearm.
Jacob glanced at the rigid line of his face, then slowly, the fingers withdrew.
The sudden emptiness was almost as startling as the fullness had been, cool air touched oversensitive skin. Sebastian’s eyes opened, he looked down at himself, the unmistakable evidence of arousal, the faint sheen of gel on his inner thighs, then, after a long beat, deliberately opened his legs again and released Jacob’s wrist.
“I’m a good kisser, wanna try?”
“…No.”
Jacob’s gaze was steady. The physical reaction had been clearer than any spoken admission.
“You, uh…”
“What?”
“Could you stop clawing my arm first?”
Sebastian’s fingers uncurled. The skin of Jacob’s forearm was already marked with red half-moons.
That same hand slid lower, palm settling lightly over the soft plane of Sebastian’s lower abdomen, the touch was warm, almost careful that just made Sebastian twitch.
“What are you doing?”
Jacob’s hand stilled, his voice dropped to a near-whisper, close enough that the words brushed Sebastian’s flushed ear.
“…Do you want me to keep going?”
He dared to ask because he had been watching the obvious evidence of Sebastian’s arousal ever since he pulled him upright, it was clear Sebastian was turned on, of course he was, Jacob knew he wasn’t nearly as bad at this as Sebastian claimed.
“At least let me hold you.”
Jacob’s breath edged closer, warm against the side of Sebastian’s face.
“You don’t have to kiss me back.”
Sebastian turned his head. The near-miss of lips against his cheekbone made Jacob’s quiet sigh audible.
“Please.”
“Pfft—you look ridiculous when you have to say ‘please.’”
Sebastian had been privately counting the minutes. Roughly twenty before the word finally left Jacob’s mouth.
“Is that a no?”
Watching the usually smooth Jacob look almost sulky was unexpectedly funny, the slight downturn of his mouth, the way his eyes flicked up.
“Just so we’re clear, no matter what happens, you are never going to make me start liking men.”
Jacob blinked, startled. The expression was almost boyish for a second.
“So that’s a yes, then.”
“Is it?”
“Sebastian.”
“I don’t know, maybe it is?”
“Oh c’mon.”
Jacob eased out from behind him. Strong hands guided Sebastian back down onto the mattress, the sheets were cooler now against his overheated skin.
“I wasn’t joking.”
Sebastian propped himself on his elbows, ready to keep arguing, the tank top still clinging damply to his chest.
“Sebastian, that wasn’t funny.”
“Really? I think it was”
Jacob’s brows drew together, the look he gave the faintly smiling man beneath him was equal parts exasperation and heat.
“Are we gonna do it?”
Sebastian asked.
“Don’t mess with me right now, Sebastian.”
Jacob shifted lower, settling fully between Sebastian’s open thighs, then he positioned himself to sit between Sebastian’s legs, using his own legs to hook under Sebastian’s
“What do you think?”
“We’re gonna do it.”
“Sure.”
“Really?”
“Really. Palmer.”
Sometime during the back-and-forth Jacob had brought out a condom and set the bottle of gel within easy reach, the foil packet caught the lamplight, Sebastian had been too busy fighting to notice.
“Are you gonna watch?”
Jacob’s right hand slid down to grip his own shaft, which wasn’t fully hard yet, and that was the image that finally made Sebastian look away.
“Not looking?”
The hand moved with unhurried confidence, that hand slowly stroked along the length to bring it to full hardness, the size sat easily in Jacob’s palm and Jacob didn’t have small hands.
“Not a chance.”
The condom packet was torn open at the corner and taken out with the tip pinched to remove air, out of the corner of his eye Sebastian still snuck glances at the person between his legs even though his mouth had already refused.
Just don’t look at it like it’s sexy.
Just don’t think the careful, almost reverent way Jacob is preparing himself looks hot.
Easier said than done.
“Sebastian.”
The name made him jump, he realized he had been staring.
“Can I flip over? I don’t want to see your face anymore.”
“Uh huh, no.”
Jacob only smiled, small and knowing, and squeezed a little more gel into his palm. The cool liquid made a soft sound as he spread it over the condom even more.
“You talk a lot, you know?”
“Oh, you rather focus on what I’m about to do instead? Fine by me.”
“Wait—that’s not—”
Something slick and blunt pressed against him. The blunt head was cooler than expected from the gel, then immediately warm. The pressure was steady, unyielding.
Sebastian’s elbows gave way. His back met the mattress, one hand rose to cover his mouth as if he could not quite believe the image in front of him, the concentrated line of Jacob’s shoulders, the careful way he was guiding himself.
When Jacob pushed in, Sebastian made no sound, even though the stretch was immediate and deep, every slow inch registered with startling clarity, the thick heat, the way his body clenched and then reluctantly yielded, the low, continuous pressure that forced the air from his lungs.
“Jacob.”
The hand left his mouth so he could speak the name with a shaking voice. He no longer knew what he was supposed to feel, only the overwhelming fullness, the intimate heat, the way his own shaft seemed to throb around the intrusion.
“Say something, Jacob.”
No answer came.
He felt every inch gradually being pushed into him, and all he could do was let the soft walls inside him clamp around Jacob’s, hungrily.
Jacob was too busy rolling his hips in deliberate, shallow movements, testing the tight heat, letting Sebastian feel every controlled drag and push, the wet sound of gel and skin was soft but relentless.
The slow pace was its own kind of torment, enough to make every nerve ending hyper-aware, not enough to tip over into anything simple.
“It’s—too much… stop—timeout.”
Thankfully Jacob listened, the movement stilled. Sebastian could feel the steady throb of the other man’s pulse deep inside him while he dragged air into his lungs.
“It’s… I can’t breathe.”
Jacob only tilted his head, then slid both hands under Sebastian’s hips and lifted them slightly. The new angle made the pressure shift, deeper, more precise.
“Hold on—”
Jacob leaned in until their breath mixed, warm, slightly uneven. Sebastian turned his face away. Soft lips brushed his cheekbone once, almost gentle.
“Are you scared?”
The whisper was close enough to feel against the shell of his ear.
Sebastian shook his head, he wasn’t scared. He just needed another moment for the stretch to settle into something less overwhelming.
Jacob accepted that and began trailing slow, careful kisses along the side of his face, forehead, the outer edge of his brow, the sensitive shell of his ear, the line of his jaw, each press of lips left a small, warm imprint.
“May I continue?”
The same quiet question, this time Sebastian nodded.
Jacob began to move again, the wet sound of gel and skin grew clearer, the slow, measured thrusts made it impossible to forget exactly what was inside him or how sharply each careful press against that internal spot sent heat rolling through his abdomen.
“Do you like it?”
Sebastian could not answer, especially not when the blunt head found that sensitive place inside of him and began to grind against it with deliberate care, the sensation was electric, fluttering, almost too much, making his own body respond without permission, until it woke his own length to full hardness without anyone having to touch it.
His toes curled against the sheets, his hands fisted in the fabric until his knuckles ached, he would not say out loud that it felt good.
But Jacob could tell anyway. The careful rhythm, the way he kept returning to the same angle, made the pleasure build in slow, relentless waves.
He pulled almost all the way out, the sudden emptiness sharp, then pushed back in just as slowly, sensation flooded every nerve.
“…Mhmm.”
The sound escaped before Sebastian could stop it, soft, involuntary, half-swallowed.
“Jacob… Jacob…”
His voice was already rough, lips trembling.
“What is it?”
Jacob leaned closer. It took Sebastian several heartbeats to form the words while the slow, deep thrusts continued.
“Inside… it feels strange.”
His entire face burned with the admission. Eyes half-closed, he tried not to focus on the sensation and failed, something fluttery and electric was building low in his abdomen, mixed with an unfamiliar pressure near his bladder that made every thrust feel sharper.
“Can you tell me more?”
How was he supposed to speak clearly like this? The heat, the stretch, the relentless press against that spot left him almost wordless.
Sebastian only shook his head, his legs tightened around Jacob’s hips, the tremor in his thighs was impossible to hide. Jacob’s hands stroked once along the outside of them, as if trying to soothe the shaking.
Gradually the rhythm increased, still angled to keep finding that same place. The wet sound grew more insistent, the mattress creaked softly under the shifting weight, sweat began to prickle along Sebastian’s hairline and the small of his back.
“Seb.”
Sebastian’s eyes opened toward the voice. His body shifted with every deeper thrust, one of Jacob’s arms slid under his waist, pulling him closer, the other braced beside his head, sweat from Jacob’s temple fell onto the white tank top, darkening the fabric in small, warm spots.
Almost without thinking, Sebastian reached up and brushed the damp hair back from Jacob’s forehead, the strands were soft, slightly sticky with sweat, their eyes met for a brief second, focused, equally undone.
They both knew this did not need to become romantic.
“Jacob…”
His voice shook.
“Just a second.”
Jacob seemed too focused on the motion of his hips to hear. The rhythm stayed steady, deep, relentless.
“I can’t.”
Sebastian was fighting a sudden, urgent pressure he had never been warned about, the kind that made every thrust feel like it might tip him over an edge he did not understand.
Jacob only held him tighter, as if afraid he might disappear, the solid weight of the other man’s body pinned him to the mattress, the scent of sweat and skin and gel filled every breath.
“Jacob—stop.”
Sebastian pushed at his shoulders, the muscles under his palms were hot and slick.
“What is it?”
The reply was muffled under his breath, Jacob still would not lift his head.
“I… need to pee.”
Jacob’s supporting arm slowly lowered until his full weight rested over Sebastian’s hips, his nose traced the line of Sebastian’s throat, breathing him in, the soft scrape of stubble against sensitive skin made Sebastian shiver.
“Can you hold it a little longer?”
He was close, they both were, the tension in Jacob’s body was obvious, the slight tremor in his thighs, the way his breath had gone uneven.
“…No.”
Sebastian’s refusal was absolute, voice tight.
Then the arm around him loosened. Jacob pushed himself up. His hips went completely still the sudden cessation of movement left a ringing quiet.
Without a word he withdrew, slow, careful, even though he was still hard, still twitching, clear fluid beading at the tip, so close to the edge that the loss of heat was almost painful for both of them.
Sebastian sat up, the sheets felt cool against overheated skin, the air of the room brushed over places still slick and sensitive, after a moment he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
The floor was cool under his bare feet as he walked away.