When it was over, my body was loose, my head clear, and aside from some fresh pangs from brawling like a teenager, I felt better than I had in a long time.It was like that best post-O feeling.When you didn’t feel like you were waking up to all your worst decisions.
John-Henry had stopped laughing too.He was watching me.
“Dude, that one has a killer suction cup,” I said.“I saw a guy fuck himself through a wall one time.I mean, it was a video, and it was just drywall, but still.And the nine-incher.Respect.”
He groaned, and his head thunked against the wall a few times with what sounded—to an expert like me—like regret.
“Emery’s not throwing it to you anymore?”
“I liked it more when you were trying to break my nose.”
“Dude, it happens.Older guys’ sex drive goes way down.Not forever, though.It’ll get better.And then you two will be fucking like a pair of silverbacks.Like, when you’re fifty, I think.”
“God, I wish,” John-Henry muttered.“It’s like he’s seventeen sometimes.”And then he seemed to realize what he’d said, and he brought his head up again.“Gray, I swear to Christ, if you repeat that, I’ll murder you.”
“That’s sweet, bro.He’s horny for you.With his heart.”
“Why did I open the door?”
I moved around a little, trying to get more comfortable on the floor.It was weird how easy this was.How normal it felt.Like nothing had happened, and we were just talking again.The way we’d always talked.
“So is it, like, a warm-up?Because if you tell me that’s the warm-up, I honestly might believe you.Like, I’ve seen Emery in those running panties he wears.”
John-Henry gave me a look.
“Is it aspirational?”I asked.
“This part of the conversation is over.”
I almost grinned.Instead, I stared up at the ceiling.The side of my face was beginning to throb.My hand felt like a balloon that was slowly inflating, and not in a good way.My knee jolted lightning every time I moved it.As the pain made itself known, I started to realize what I’d done.Shown up on his porch, after months of not talking to him, and attacked him.In his own home.And almost ruined his recent investment in a dildo.Like, the synthetic skin made those things seriously expensive.I tried to get up.Or I thought about getting up.I needed to get out of here.
But John-Henry moved first.He got to his feet.He threw the Rodeo King on the table and stood over me, holding out a hand.
“Is it uncut for, like, verisimilitude?”
“Gray, I really feel like I’m meeting you more than halfway here.”
I let him help me up.
I did, however, glance over at the table.
“Touch it and die,” John-Henry said.
That time, I did grin, but only for a moment.
“I shouldn’t have—” I gestured, trying to take in the whole mess.I ducked my head as I turned toward the door.“Sorry.Uh, don’t tell Emery, please?”
“Nice try.”John-Henry grabbed my arm and steered me toward the back of the house.“You’re not getting out of here so easily.”
“I know you’re going to think I’m joking, but I knew this guy who did a crazy amount of Kegels—”
“Stop talking.”
When we got to the kitchen, he sat me at the counter.He took a couple of Pepsis from the fridge and slid one to me.The can was cold, and it felt good in my sore hand.I held it for a while, trying to avoid John-Henry’s gaze.Then I moved it to my throbbing cheek.Look at me, I thought.Having a low-key social event.
“So,” John-Henry said.“Want to tell me why you tried to knock my block off?”
“Not really.”
