Coda 01 - Promises

leaned against the wall with his head in his hands. There was blood on the paint, and the drywall was going to need to be patched.
    Finally he spoke. “I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.” It sounded like he might break into tears at any moment. “I’m so fucking tired. And I’m so confused. Part of me wants to kiss you, and part of me wants to just beat the hell out of you.”
    I have to admit I was a little bit alarmed by that. “Do I get a vote? Because I definitely prefer one over the other.” He didn’t laugh.
    “I wish I could stop thinking about you. I wish I didn’t miss you so much.”

    “I miss you, too, Matt,” I said honestly. “I’d give anything for us to just be friends again.”

    He didn’t answer for a moment but then said without looking at me, “You could be happy with just being friends?”

    “It wouldn’t be my first choice, but yes, if that’s what you want.” It was the truth. Better that than to be alone again.
    Another short silence, and then, quietly, he said, “I don’t know if I can do it, Jared. I wish I could. But I don’t think I can go back to that.” He took a deep, shaking breath and finally looked at me. “I miss you so much, but I wish I didn’t want you the way I do.”
    “Why do you have to fight it, Matt? Why can’t you just accept that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you?” It was the wrong thing to say.
    He grabbed my arms and slammed me against the wall. “You think it’s so easy! I’ve spent my whole life denying these feelings. I don’t know if I can accept them now. I don’t know if I want to accept them!” His face was only a foot away from mine. The look in his eyes was torture. It was pain, and fear, and loathing, and desire, all fighting for dominance. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t bear to see it.
    But when I dropped my gaze, I stopped short. In looking down, away from his face, my gaze had inadvertently landed on his crotch. And I was surprised to see that he was fully erect. I could see the telling bulge inside his jeans. Knowing I was possibly making a huge mistake, hands shaking in both fear and anticipation, I reached out—he still had my arms pinned to the wall, and I could barely reach—and started to unbutton his pants.
    He went completely still. I don’t think he was even breathing. Then, “What are you doing?” I didn’t look at his face. His hands were still on my biceps. He could easily stop me if he chose to.
    “Taking a chance.” My hands were shaking a little less now, but I was waiting for him to step away, to yell, maybe even to punch me. The last buttons came undone and his erection, covered in the smooth black of his briefs, was pushing through the flaps of denim.
    “I don’t think you should be doing that.” But his voice had gone low and husky.
    “I’m sure you’re right,” I replied, and I brushed my fingertips lightly over the fabric that still covered him. His breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t move. I flattened my hand against him, felt the whole length of him against my palm, and squeezed a little. He gasped a little, then gave a small sigh of surrender, and took a last tiny step towards me, his forehead hitting the wall above my shoulder. His hands slid down from my arms to rest on my waistband. I rubbed him harder, pushing my fingers down inside of his jeans. I could tell by his breathing that he was becoming more aroused. Was he even leaning into my hand, or was that my imagination? I didn’t want to push him too far, and yet, maybe....
    I stopped, wondering what exactly I was expecting. And then, barely a whisper, I heard in my ear: “Jared, please don’t stop.”
    I didn’t hesitate. With one hand, I pulled the waistband of his briefs down out of the way. When my right hand closed around him, he groaned low in his throat. I started to stroke him, softly at first but then harder as his breathing quickened. His fingers were gripping my sides so hard I was sure I would have bruises. His head was resting against the wall next to mine, his face in my hair. Soft lips and sandpaper stubble both brushed my skin. He wasn’t kissing me. He wasn’t even moving, but I could feel his breath hot against my neck, and it felt wonderful.
    I grabbed his shirt with my free hand, turned, and pushed him against the wall. I dropped to my knees in front of him and took him into my mouth, as deep as I could. He actually stopped breathing, held his breath for a few seconds,