Over the next few weeks, we get back to normal. On the surface at least. Things are still kind of strained between us, but we put on a good show for each other of pretending they're not. We don't mention Craig or what I'd said when we were watching TV.
It's a Saturday night again. Jeff's gone to a party, but I don't really have the will to go out. Ever since the whole Craig thing, whenever I'm about to take some guy home I seem to lose interest. I haven't slept with anyone in weeks. If Jeff is sleeping with anyone, he hasn't been bringing her back to our place. "Or him"- the thought crosses my mind briefly, but it makes me feel ill, so I push it back out again. I turn the heat up in our apartment so I can get stoned and strip down to my briefs. I want to lay around naked and pretend I'm in the tropics. I roll a few spliffs so I won't have to deal with the mechanics once I'm fucked up. I put on a new album I've just bought, and enjoy getting stoned and letting the music wash over me.
Around midnight I hear a knock on my door, and then Jeff peaks his head in.
"Can I come in?" he asks. I pat the bed and tell him to come join me. I grab my jeans from the floor and slip them on.
"It's a fucking sauna in here," he says. "How high did you turn the heat on?"
"I was in the mood for a tropical vacation," I say. The words fill up my mouth like pudding and seem to slip out slowly without my knowledge. Fuck, I am so stoned. I spark up the last joint and hand it to him, letting him smoke most of it.
I can't help myself from staring at the elegance of his long, slender fingers, the smooth confidence of his inhale, and the curling smoke slipping back out through his pink puffy lips.
It's weird to have him in my room. We mostly hang out in the kitchen and the living room. The heat really is up pretty high, and he's starting to sweat a little bit. He starts to unbutton his shirt, giggling as he fumbles. He isn't wearing anything underneath, and I'm completely hypnotized by his smooth, olive skin. I can feel myself starting to bone up, but suddenly I don't give a shit if he can tell. I lay back on my bed with my arms over my head.
Jeff looks down at me, and then lays down beside me. He curls up next to me like we do when we're watching TV sometimes, except now we're lying down, shirtless, in my bed. We lay there together for what seems like hours, the sides of our bodies barely touching, although every brush feels like electricity to me. We linger together in companionable silence, occasionally speaking- not saying anything important, just catching up on the week, on the night, on our friends.
"I wish you'd come with me tonight," Jeff says, but I can't respond because as he says it he snuggles up close to me and puts his head on my chest. My breath gets caught in my chest. I can feel his warm, naked flesh against mine, can feel his heartbeat against my side. I'm afraid to run my fingers though his hair, afraid to touch him. If I touch him just a little bit I don't know if I'll be able to stop.
I've always thought body odor was kind of gross. I know some guys get off on it, but I prefer the smell of a freshly showered man. But for some reason the combined smell of our sweaty bodies is intoxicating. It's like a drug, and my dick is hard now, caught uncomfortably in my briefs. I can only see the top of his head, so I don't know whether or not his eyes are open, whether or not he can see. His head is rising and falling with my breath.
I fucking hate this. I hate the intensity of the attraction I feel and my completely inability to control it. I hate how helpless it makes me feel. I can smell his shampoo and his sweat and cigarette smoke, and the heat of his body is driving me crazy. Our sweaty skin is sticking to each other, and I feel like my entire body is alive and on fire. Like I'd just kicked the heat up another 10 degrees.
He raises his hand to my chest and I stop breathing. It's just laying there, on top of my right pec, right above my nipple. I know he can feel the way my heart is beating a million miles a minute. It's like time stops, and I have no fucking clue how long we're laying like this, unmoving. I haven't had sex in weeks, and I'm so fucking oversexed I feel like it's consuming me, like all that's left of what used to be me is a giant engorged cock that's taken over the rest of me.
Jeff starts playing with my chest hair. He doesn't have any, and he's always been curious about mine. Sometimes when I have my shirt off he playfully rubs it. But this isn't like that. He's stroking my chest, but he might as well be stroking my cock. When he brushes my nipple, I have to grab his wrist to make him stop.
"Jeff, what are you doing?"
"I don't know," he says. "Well you better figure it out," I snap. The teasing I can deal with, but now he's just fucking with me.
Jeff sits up, and I suddenly feel incredibly naked, even though I'm still wearing my jeans. I sit up too, and pull my knees to my chest.
"Why won't you talk about what happened with Craig," he asks.
"It didn't happen to me, it happened to you. You're the one who isn't talking about it."
"Whenever I try to you get so fucking tense."
"Look, I overreacted, ok. I'm sorry. I'm over it now."
"No you're not."
"Don't tell me how I feel,"
"If you don't lie to me, I won't have to."
I lean back against the headboard and stretch my legs out.
"I was jealous, and you know it. Do you really need me to say it out loud? Do you really need me to stroke your ego that bad?" I feel humiliated, and terrified of how he'll react.
"Alex," he says, and brushes my hair behind my ear. I pull away from his hand.
"So what, are you like, into guys now?" I ask.
