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I had done good at fight club that week. At least, that's what Tyler had said as I had stumbled toward him after a fight, blood soaked and panting.
He had clapped me on the shoulder, smiling down at me. I had tried to bite back a grin as he grabbed me by the jaw and turned my head this way and that. Checking for injuries, I guess. I don't know, I wasn't paying attention. All I had been able to focus on was his words throbbing in my mind like a concussion.
"Good job, psycho boy," he had murmured, low and personal. Like his words were just for us.
I'm not too sure how I ended up here. Time had blurred between then and now, twisting and distorting until it was nothing. I remember my arm slung over Tyler's shoulders, his around my waist, as he walked us home. I remembered him whispering to me as I glowed under his praise, as I tried to remember how to put one foot in front of the other. But not much else.
Something must have happened, some puzzle pieces had clicked into place, because now my back was pressed against the front door with Tyler against me mouthing at my jaw.
I can hear it, under the slick sounds of his tongue lapping the blood from my cheek, him breathlessly whispering. I'm not even sure he knows he's doing it.
"So good, always so good."
"Prettiest thing I've ever seen, you have no idea."
"God, you should see yourself out there, you're gorgeous, baby."
Over and over, right in my ear, while his hands card through and tighten in my hair rhythmically. It's too much, too good, his words going straight to my dick until I'm hard and straining against my slacks.
I whine, my hips twitching forward to grind against the knee he has pressed between my thighs. It's an embarrassing sound, and normally Tyler might pull away to laugh or make fun me. Not tonight.
He just shushes me, pressing a wet kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Shh, I know baby, I'm gonna take care of you."
My mind is spinning in my aching skull, orbiting Tyler like he's the sun. He is. I know he is. I orbit Tyler, Tyler leads me into the depths of the unknown.
I wind my fingers into the back of his shirt beneath his jacket, tilting my head back as he sucks a bruise into the junction of my neck and shoulder. I'll go where you go. Take me anywhere.
His fingers sneak away from my hair to brush against my sore ribs, his thumbs running over the raises and dips until I'm shivering. He presses his thumb into a bruise until I whine and thump my head against the door. Please, I say, please Tyler.
"Anything, anything," he whispers back and finally twitches his hips forward to roll against mine, completely pressing himself against me, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. We groan in tandem, tipping our heads to join at the temple.
It's hot, and the air is thick with it. I'm sucking down breath after breath, trying to breathe around the heat. It's hot in the way that this house on Paper Street never is. It's hot in the same way this house is damp and cold; overwhelmingly so. Tyler's hands burn against my skin, searing his fingerprints into my skin. I could cry with how good it feels.
I make some type of noise, embarrassing and high in the back of my throat, as Tyler rocks himself against me once more. He whispers, "Shh," lips pressed against the side of my neck, sticky with blood from a split lip. "I know, I know exactly what you need."
His hands find the waistband of my slacks, and I scramble to steady myself with my hands on his hips. Soon my pants are bunched around my thighs with Tyler's hand wrapped around my cock.
It burns, the heat eating at me from the inside out as his hand slides easily against my length. I can't help but groan loudly, the noise half muffled against his shoulder. He presses messy kisses down my throat as I twitch and jerk into his touch. I swear loudly, winding my fingers into his hair and pressing him closer. I feel his teeth digging into my shoulder and I pause, shivering, mouth gaping, eyes half hooded and staring out into the swallowing darkness of the house before me. Briefly, I wonder if I could pick out each of his teeth from feeling alone, but I know I could, with the amount of times the print of his teeth had been branded into me.
I hiss out, Fuck, that hurts! And tighten my grip on his hair. Heat curls in my gut, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to will myself from coming right on the spot.
I feel as his jaw spasms, the pressure increasing for half a moment, and then he's unlatching himself, and taking a half step back, all contact removed in one movement. It feels like an unexpected hit to the gut.
My brain scrambles to catch up, and I feel like somebody reached through my skull to sink their fingers into my brain matter. My breath hitches. What're you— what? Distantly, I hear my whining and want to cringe, but that's the furthest thought from my mind. I reach for him, for his stupid jacket, for his belt loops, for him.
He shakes his head, huffing a quiet, strained laugh. "Just wait," he whispers. "Just be patient."
And I listen. I chew my lip raw, watching as he undoes his belt and the fastenings of his jeans, as he shoves them down to mid thigh, as he grabs hold of himself. He steps back into my space, and my hands find their place immediately, wrapped around his hips, thumbs digging into the jagged dips and edges.
I hold my breath, watching with reverence as he strokes himself with quick, impatient pulls. I'm confused for a moment, as he lets go of his dick and—
I let out a broken moan, high and rattling around the rotting walls. Tyler, Tyler, my Tyler, adjusts his grip around our erections and strokes with one pull. I cry out, pressing the heal of my hand into my eye socket until stars are bursting beneath my eyelids.
Fuck, I gasp out, slamming my head back against the door. Tyler, Tyler, fuck.
Tyler presses in close, tightening his grip and bucking his hips, tucking his face to my shoulder. He's whispering again, but I can't make out the words over my sobbing moans.
It's too good. Skin to skin, heat against heat, twin lungs sucking down smoke. Tyler's calloused fingers slip over my cock, so rough, so good I could cry.
Desperately, frantically, I ruck up his shirt, running my fingers over familiar scars, bruises, the occasional broken bone that never healed right, that still sticks out among the others. Tyler presses his skull painfully against the side of my jaw, and his hair is in my mouth as I gasp.
I can't. I can't. It's too much. I buck my hips into his fist, screwing my eyes shut, shut tight against the heat, the darkness, the overwhelming touch and presence and warmth of Tyler Durden. I say, please, please, oh my god, Tyler, and then I'm coming hard, so hard I double over. I tremble with the feeling, swaying hard, digging my fingernails into Tyler's ribs and pulling him impossibly closer to me. I suck in breath after breath, shaking as Tyler whines into my neck and comes against my stomach.
Somehow, I keep us both standing as Tyler's knees buckle. He tightens his fist, twists his wrist and slides up our lengths one last time, making a strained sound against my neck, before finally letting go and planting his messy hand on my hip.
The room is quiet now, the silence only interrupted by our breathing. The air is hot and wet and disgusting, clinging to my skin. Tyler's mouth pressed to my bare shoulder doesn't help. I don't have the heart to push him off of me, and anyway, why would I?
I don't know how long we stay there, pressed against each other, breathing in the same air. Too long, maybe, the air becoming stifling, Tyler's come drying on my stomach. I feel disgusting. But it doesn't really matter, because he's holding me, and mouthing gently at my shoulder, and running his fingers over the bite mark he left with his free hand. It's calm, gentle.
After a moment, Tyler stirs. He lifts his head up, shifting back just enough to look me in the eyes.
"I've never seen anything quite like you," he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
My stomach twists, my breath hitching as I desperately try to find something to say. My head feels light, heat glowing just under my skin, all because of his words.
I don't have to say anything, it seems. Tyler flashes me a smile before patting me on the hip twice and stepping back.
"C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up," he hikes his pants back up, leaving them unbuttoned, as he turns away to wander down the hall to the bathroom. "You're a fuckin' mess, man."
My heart stutters, and I hesitate for just a moment to watch him go. Then I'm yanking my slacks back up and following him deeper into maw of this house on Paper Street.