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“I love this view,” he said.

“Yeah?” Joel said with a grin, looking over his shoulder at Quentin. “Get used to it.”

Quentin flushed in anticipation.

Joel took a dab of lube and massaged it onto his hole, taking his time rubbing it in, fingering himself, showing off a bit for Quentin. When he was ready, he sank down onto Quentin’s cock, guiding himself.

Quentin bit his lip as he watched Joel take him inside himself. It was perfect: the delicious view of Joel’s hole stretching around his cock, Joel’s back arching, his ass muscles flexing, all paired with the feeling of his cock inside of Joel, all warm and tight.

“Fuck,” Joel gasped. Quentin was maybe an inch and a half inside him so far. “It really is big.” And then he laughed. “I sound so cliché, saying that.”

“I think it’s hot,” Quentin said.

“Mm.” Joel began to ride Quentin gently, his muscles flexing lusciously as he slowly took more and more of Quentin’s cock inside him. The pressure and pleasure were unbearably wonderful, and Quentin knew it wouldn’t be long until he came. Joel was a good sport about Quentin’s size. He gasped, whimpered occasionally, but took it all in, settling finally with Quentin fully inside of him. A shiver ran through Quentin’s body, and he gripped Joel’s waist.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he murmured.

“Youfeel so good inside me,” Joel said. “Fuck me, fuck me hard.”

Quentin grinned. “Will you ask nicely?”

Joel looked slyly over his shoulder. “Please fuck me?”

Quentin bit his lip. “Good boy.”

And he began to thrust.

He’d always liked sex on the rougher side. He was a physical person, and took pride in his body and the things he could do, and found a level of fulfillment and pleasure in his own strength. He liked rough sex not because it meant he was dominating or controlling his partner, but because he liked how it made him aware of his own strength—and he appreciated the mutual power that was exchanged when someone else let him exert his strength during sex. If his partner was more submissive, like Joel, it was a willing submission, a negotiated exchange of power. Joel was nolesspowerful for letting Quentin fuck him roughly, spank him, and toss him around. They were holding the power together. It was intimate and erotic and deeply based on trust.

He and Joel were a perfect match sexually. They fucked for a long time that night, far longer than either of them could afford to be awake, but they wanted to make the hours count. They were creative in their positions, but careful in their discretion. Quentin’s apartment had thick walls, and he didn’t expect his neighbors to hear anything, but they still avoided banging the headboard as much as they could and didn’t fuck in front of any windows, though the idea was enticing.

When Quentin finished, he was on top of Joel, who was on his stomach, gripping the sheets in both hands, grunting with each thrust. Quentin buried himself in Joel’s hole, each of his last powerful thrusts pumping Joel full of cum.

Joel came only seconds later and then laughed, sounding embarrassed. “I think I just made a mess of your duvet.”

Quentin kissed the back of Joel’s neck. “I don’t give a single damn about that.” He slipped off the bed, went to his bathroom, and wet a towel with warm water. He returned to the bedroom with both the warm, wet towel and a dry one and gave both to Joel. Then, he went to his kitchen, filled two glasses with cool water, drank half of one, and brought the other to Joel.

Joel was sitting on the dry towel and took the offered water gratefully. He drank it all in three long gulps. They were both sweating and breathing heavily.

“I haven’t been fucked like that in years. Or, maybe ever,” Joel said, smiling almost bashfully at Quentin.

“You can have a repeat performance whenever you want.” Quentin flopped onto the bed next to Joel and folded his arms behind his head. He wanted to ask Joel to stay, but he didn’t. They both knew it would be too risky.

Joel showered and dressed quietly in the clothes he had brought. Quentin didn’t want him to go, and he could see from the expression on Joel’s face that Joel shared the sentiment. But this would be their new normal: secret hookups on stolen time. They’d decided they wanted this, they’d agreed to it, and they would learn to live with it.

Everything between them had changed so quickly and so drastically that Quentin felt a little off-balance. It would take time to get used to this new dynamic, to figure out what it would look like, but he was excited to try. He kissed Joel goodnight, watched him slip out of the apartment, and then had a hard time falling asleep that night.

Chapter 17

Joel

Life settled into a strange new rhythm for Joel. He didn’t mind his new routines. He liked to be busy, and now he was busier than ever. TheNorthern Suntour resumed in the new year. He performed every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, traveling to a new city every week. On his days off, he rested his voice and either traveled to the next city or flew to wherever Quentin was for a secret rendezvous. When he wasn’t flying, singing, or fucking, he was writing.

Joel was always working on new material, and he had recently been inspired to write a new set of songs. He didn’t yet know if he had enough to make an album, but he thought he could see the makings of something interesting, even good, in the songs that he was writing. They were deeply personal, almost confessional. They were his most personal songs yet. None of them spoke directly about queerness or about coming out, but a listener wouldn’t need a degree in literary analysis to figure it out. He wasn’t sure if he would ever release these songs, but they were good to write.

He brought new energy to each of his performances. The tour was highly praised. It was receiving fantastic reviews and raking in lots of money. Even Alexander Braun, the ornery tour director, was happy, and Joel got into fewer disagreements with the man. Harlan helped him coordinate his flights to wherever Quentin was, and Shivonne helped him prepare statements when needed. If either of them suspected what he was doing, they kept their mouth shut and said nothing. They were discreet and trustworthy.

The media was loving the newfound friendship and support between Joel and Quentin. The tabloids called it a legendary bromance. Joel watched a few of Quentin’s games, but not all of them, and Quentin made an appearance at another one of Joel’s concerts, though he didn’t come onstage. They didn’t do any interviews together, but they were asked separately about their friendship on multiple occasions, and both gave statements that their teams had prepared.