Jared and Jordan

[sneakbator]

 

Chapter 13 

 

The silence in Jordan’s bedroom was thick, heavy with the scent of sex and revenge. Scott had left with a final, knowing look, leaving Jordan alone with the phantom vibrations of the sent text message. He stared at his phone, the screen dark now, waiting. The adrenaline that had fueled his actions was ebbing, leaving a hollow, shaky feeling in its wake. What have I done?

A sudden, violent pounding on the front door shattered the quiet.

Jared.

It wasn’t a polite knock. It was a demand. A threat. The sound echoed through the still house, a frantic drumbeat that matched the sudden frantic rhythm of Jordan’s heart. He pulled his shorts back up, his skin still tingling, and moved on unsteady legs toward the living room.

He pulled the door open, and there he was.

Jared stood on the porch, chest heaving, his face a mask of fury and something else, something raw and wild Jordan couldn’t immediately name. His eyes were blazing, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled fist at his side. The video was still playing on its screen, a tiny, silent, damning loop of Scott’s release.

“What the fuck is this, Jordan?” Jared’s voice was low, a tremble of barely controlled rage underlying each word. He didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved past Jordan into the living room, the force of his entry making Jordan stumble back a step.

“You sent me a fucking video of your stepdad jerking off,” Jared spat, whirling around to face him. “Are you insane? What is wrong with you?”

The hollow feeling vanished, incinerated by a fresh wave of defensive anger. “What’s wrong with me?” Jordan shot back, squaring his shoulders. “I know what I heard at your house, Jared. I know who was in your bed. Don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m the crazy one.”

Jared’s expression flickered, a flash of guilt quickly smothered by renewed anger. “So this is your solution? You fuck my boss? You send me a porno of it?”

“We didn’t fuck!” The denial was out before Jordan could stop it, too quick, too defensive. We just got off on the idea of it, on hurting you. He saw the instant Jared processed the distinction, his eyes narrowing.

“You just… what? Had a mutual jerk-off session? That’s supposed to be better?” Jared took a step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming the space between them. The air crackled. “You did this to get back at me.”

“Yeah,” Jordan admitted, his own voice dropping, losing its heat and gaining a dark, confessional tone. “I did. You hurt me. I wanted to hurt you back. It felt… good.”

Jared stared at him, his breathing still ragged. The fury in his eyes was slowly being diluted by confusion, by a dawning, shocking understanding. His gaze dropped from Jordan’s face, trailing down his body, and Jordan knew, with a sudden, visceral certainty, what he was seeing. The memory of the video. The image of Scott. The raw, unfiltered masculinity of it.

Jared’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The anger wasn’t gone, but it was… shifting. Transforming. His eyes, when they lifted back to meet Jordan’s, held a new, terrifying heat.

“It felt good,” Jared repeated, not a question, but a low, fascinated statement. He took another step, closing the distance until they were almost chest to chest. Jordan could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the rapid pulse beating at the base of his throat. “Watching him. Making him do that for you. It turned you on.”

Jordan couldn’t look away. He could only nod, a tiny, jerky motion.

“It turned me on,” Jared whispered, the admission ripped from him, harsh and honest.

The confession hung between them, a live wire. All the jealousy, the betrayal, the rage—it all funneled into that single, electrifying point. They weren't two guys arguing anymore. They were two animals, circling, driven by a need that was bigger than reason.

Jared’s hand came up, not to shove, but to grip the back of Jordan’s neck. His fingers were warm, possessive. “You wanted a reaction?” he murmured, his voice gravelly, his breath ghosting over Jordan’s lips. “You got one.”

And then he kissed him.

It was nothing like their previous kisses. There was no tenderness, no exploration. This was a clash. A claiming. Jared’s mouth was hard and demanding on his, his tongue plunging inward with a desperation that felt like violence. Jordan met him with equal force, his own hands coming up to fist in Jared’s shirt, holding him there, accepting the punishment, the apology, the desperate, fucked-up desire all at once.

They stumbled backward, a tangled mess of limbs and furious energy, until the back of Jordan’s knees hit the arm of the couch and they spilled onto it. Jared landed on top of him, his weight familiar and anchoring. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down Jordan’s jaw to his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin there that would bloom purple by morning. A mark. Proof.

“You’re such an asshole,” Jared growled against his throat, his hips grinding down, the hard ridge of his erection pressing insistently against Jordan’s through their clothes.

“You’re a bigger one,” Jordan gasped out, arching up into the pressure, his own cock throbbing in response. The friction was maddening, not nearly enough. His hands scrabbled at Jared’s waistband, desperate.

Jared sat back, kneeling over him, his eyes dark with a possessive fire Jordan had never seen before. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt and ripped it over his head, tossing it aside. His chest was heaving, his muscles taut. “You want to show me what I’m missing?” he challenged, his voice dripping with a new kind of intent. “Then show me.”

He leaned down, his hands going to the button of Jordan’s shorts. He didn’t fumble. He made quick, rough work of it, yanking the fabric down Jordan’s thighs in one sharp movement. Jordan’s cock sprang free, already fully hard, dripping onto his stomach.

Jared’s gaze locked onto it, his lips parting slightly. The anger was still there, simmering, but it was now entirely wrapped in a blinding, all-consuming lust. “Mine,” he said, the word a low growl of possession.

He didn’t use his hands. He lowered his head, and his mouth, hot and wet and impossibly skilled, enveloped Jordan in a single, devastating motion.

Jordan cried out, his back bowing off the couch. Oh, god. It was different from before. This wasn’t the experimental, curious blowjob from their first night. This was… vengeance. This was claiming territory. Jared’s tongue worked him with a brutal, exquisite expertise, swirling around the head before plunging down again, taking him deep, until Jordan felt the head of his cock hit the back of Jared’s throat.

Jared’s hands pinned Jordan’s hips to the couch, holding him still, forcing him to take every devastating inch. The sight was unbelievable—Jared, his best friend, the guy he’d just tried to destroy, between his legs, sucking his cock like his life depended on it. Like he was starving for it.

The incoherent, pleading sounds falling from Jordan’s lips only seemed to spur Jared on. He moaned around Jordan’s length, the vibration shooting through Jordan like lightning. His own hips began to move in tiny, helpless thrusts, fucking up into that perfect, hot wetness.

He was losing control, teetering on the edge far too quickly, the combined emotional whiplash and physical sensation shattering his composure. “Jared… fuck… I’m gonna…”

Jared pulled off with a wet, obscene pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Jordan’ glistening tip. His own breathing was ragged, his eyes glassy with need. He looked wrecked, and it was the most beautiful thing Jordan had ever seen.

“Not yet,” Jared commanded, his voice hoarse. He shoved his own jeans and boxers down just enough to free his own thick, eight-inch cock. It curved upward, flushed a deep red, leaking copiously. He spat into his palm, a crude, primal gesture, and fisted his own length, stroking once, twice, his eyes locked on Jordan’s.

“You wanted to play games?” Jared panted, shifting his weight. He positioned himself over Jordan, the head of his cock pressing against Jordan’s, sliding through the slickness there. “Let’s play.”

He lowered his body, his cock aligning perfectly with Jordan’s. Their lengths slid together, a hot, velvety friction that made them both gasp. Jared’s hand wrapped around both of them, his grip firm, and he began to stroke.

Oh. My. God.

It was an entirely new kind of pleasure. The feel of Jared’s thicker skin sliding against his own, the way their precum mixed to form a slick, perfect lubricant, the overwhelming visual of their bodies joined like this. Jordan’s hands flew to Jared’s ass, gripping the hard muscle there, pulling him closer, grinding up against him, needing more, more, more.

Jared’s forehead dropped against his, their ragged breaths mingling. His strokes became faster, more frantic, his hips pistoning, fucking his cock against Jordan’s in a sublime, frantic rhythm.

“This what you wanted?” Jared grunted, his voice strained, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “This what you thought about when you made that video?”

“Yes,” Jordan moaned, his own climax building again, a tidal wave of sensation. “Fuck, Jared, just like that…”

“You’re mine,” Jared growled again, a final, desperate declaration as his rhythm began to stutter. “You hear me? Mine.”

The possessive words were the final trigger. Jordan’s orgasm exploded out of him with a guttural cry, his cum shooting up between their sweat-slicked chests in hot, pulsing streaks. The feel of Jordan climaxing sent Jared over the edge a second later. He threw his head back with a choked roar, his own release joining Jordan’s, painting their stomachs in a messy, shared proof of their fucked-up, undeniable connection.

They collapsed together onto the couch, a tangled, sticky, breathless heap. The only sound was their harsh, labored breathing. Jared’s weight was a comforting pressure on top of him. Jordan could feel the frantic beat of Jared’s heart against his own chest, slowly beginning to steady.

After a long moment, Jared shifted, propping himself up on an elbow. He looked down at Jordan, his expression unreadable, his eyes tracing the mess on both their bodies. He reached out, his thumb brushing through the cooling cum on Jordan’s stomach.

He brought his thumb to his own lips, never breaking eye contact, and slowly, deliberately, licked it clean.

A shiver racked Jordan’s entire body.

Jared’s voice was quiet, awed, and utterly wrecked. “What are we doing, Jordan?”

Jared’s phone buzzed sharply on the coffee table, the sound cutting through the heavy, post-climax silence. He hesitated, his thumb still resting on Jordan’s stomach, before reluctantly reaching for it. Jordan watched as Jared’s expression shifted from dazed to focused, his brow furrowing as he read the screen.

“Who is it?” Jordan asked, his voice hoarse.

Jared didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he handed the phone to Jordan, allowing him to see the message from Blake: Miss me yet? Has our video made any money online yet?

Jordan’s eyes widened. “What the hell is this?”

Jared exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Blake and I… we’ve been making videos. For extra cash.”

“Videos?” Jordan sat up slowly, his stomach churning with a mix of shock and curiosity. “Like… porn?”

Jared nodded, his jaw tightening. “It started as a joke, you know? Just fucking around. But then people started paying. A lot.”

“How much is ‘a lot’?” Jordan asked, his voice lowering, a strange, almost predatory interest creeping into his tone.

Jared hesitated again, his gaze locked on Jordan’s. “Enough to cover rent. Food. Whatever we need.” He paused, his voice dropping even further. “Sometimes… more.”

Jordan’s mind raced. The implications were huge. All this time, Jared had been keeping this secret—this lucrative, dangerous secret. And now, because of that damn video with Scott, he was tangled up in it too.

“So… what?” Jordan said slowly, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re saying there’s money in this? Real money?”

Jared’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else—anticipation, maybe. “Yeah. There is. Why? You interested?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility. Jordan leaned back against the couch, his heart pounding. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This was about opportunity. About power. And maybe, just maybe, about something more.

“Maybe,” Jordan said finally, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. “But if we’re doing this… we’re doing it my way.”

[sneakbator]

 

Chapter 14

 

The stale, greasy air of the burger joint clung to Jordan’s clothes as he leaned against the driver’s side door of Blake’s beat-up sedan. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, a mix of residual anger from the video and a gnawing, anxious guilt. He’d driven on pure impulse, fueled by the raw, confusing aftermath of his encounter with Jared. He needs to know, Jordan thought. He needs to know it wasn't just about revenge.

He knocked on the window, the sound too loud in the quiet street.

The driver’s side window whirred down, revealing Blake’s surprised face. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, widened slightly before a guarded, almost wary expression settled over his features. The intricate floral tattoos on his hips peeked out from beneath the waistband of his low-slung jeans. “Jordan? What’s up?”

“We need to talk,” Jordan said, his voice tighter than he intended. “About what happened. With Jared.”

Blake’s jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, out the windshield, before his gaze returned, colder. “Look, man, if you’re here to give me shit again—”

“I’m not,” Jordan interrupted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m here to say… what you did was fucked up. Going behind my back and having sex with Jared, on camera, for money. It was wrong.”

Blake’s defensive posture softened a fraction, replaced by wary curiosity. “Okay…?”

Jordan took a shaky breath, the hardest part still to come. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. I sent the video of my step dad because I was mad. “But only partly because I was mad.” He forced himself to hold Blake’s gaze, to let him see the raw, unvarnished truth. “It was mostly because I was jealous.”

The admission hung in the air between them, heavy and electric. Blake’s eyes searched his, the ice in them melting into something else entirely—shock, confusion, and a dawning, fragile hope.

“Jealous?” Blake breathed out, the word barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” Jordan said, his own voice dropping to match. “You confessed this… this huge thing to me. This dirty secret. And I threw it back in your face. And then I heard you with him, and it felt like you’d taken something that was…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence—that was meant for me—too terrifying to voice.

A slow, understanding dawned on Blake’s face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I was gonna ask you, you know,” he said, his voice thick with a sudden, vulnerable honesty. “That day. I was gonna ask if you wanted to… to collab. On camera. With me.”

Jordan’s breath hitched. What?

“But I was terrified,” Blake continued, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel. “After you pulled away from my kiss… I was so sure you’d reject me. I thought it was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.” He looked up, his blue eyes glistening. “So I went to Jared instead. It was easier. Safer. And I know he struggles more financially than you do.”

The revelation landed like a physical blow, rearranging everything Jordan thought he knew about the last few days. The tension that had been coiling in the air between them—the hurt, the betrayal, the unsaid words—didn’t evaporate. It transmuted. It crackled, heating from within, shifting from emotional static into a pure, undiluted, erotic charge.

They both felt it at the exact same moment.

Jordan saw it in the way Blake’s pupils dilated, black swallowing the blue. Blake saw it in the way Jordan’s lips parted, his breathing turning shallow. The space inside the car suddenly felt too small, too hot, charged with a need so potent it was dizzying.

There was no more talking.

With a guttural sound that was half-growl, half-plea, Blake shoved the car door open. Jordan didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, meeting him halfway as Blake scrambled out of the driver’s seat. Their bodies collided against the side of the car, hands grabbing, pulling, mouths crashing together in a kiss that was nothing like the tentative one they’d shared before.

This was a conflagration.

It was all desperate, hungry lips and clashing teeth and frantic tongues. Jordan’s hands fisted in Blake’s shirt, yanking it up over his head and tossing it blindly into the dark car. Blake’s nails scraped down Jordan’s back as he worked the button on his jeans, the rasp of the zipper a obscenely loud counterpoint to their ragged breathing.

“Inside. Now,” Blake panted against his mouth, pulling him toward the back seat.

They tumbled into the cramped space, a chaotic mess of limbs and urgency. The doors slammed shut, sealing them in their own private, heated world. Jordan landed half on top of Blake, their hard cocks grinding together through the fabric of their jeans, drawing identical, sharp gasps from both of them.

“Fuck, Jordan,” Blake moaned, his head falling back against the seat, exposing the long line of his throat. Jordan latched onto it, sucking a dark mark into the skin as his hands finally, finally, shoved Blake’s jeans and boxers down his hips.

And there it was. Blake’s cock, just as he remembered from that first video session. Thick, impressive, curving upward, already glistening with a pearl of precum at the tip. Jordan wrapped his hand around it, and Blake bucked up into his touch with a broken cry.

“You like that?” Jordan murmured, his voice rough with desire as he stroked him, his thumb smearing the slickness over the flushed head.

“You have no idea,” Blake gasped out, his eyes screwed shut. “No fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

The confession was a live wire. Jordan claimed his mouth again in a searing kiss as he shimmied out of his own clothes, their naked skin sliding together in the humid dark of the car. The scent of sweat and cheap cologne and pure, unadulterated male desire filled the air.

Blake’s hands were everywhere—gripping Jordan’s ass, tracing the muscles of his back, tangling in his hair. “I need to feel you,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, Jordan. I need all of you.”

Jordan stilled, looking down at him. The streetlight outside cast shifting shadows across Blake’s handsome face, highlighting the desire, the trust, the raw vulnerability there. “You sure?” he asked, his own need a painful, throbbing ache. “It’s your first time… like this.”

“Yes,” Blake breathed, his eyes blazing with certainty. “I’m sure. I want it to be you. Only you.”

That was all the permission Jordan needed. He reached for his discarded jeans, fumbling for his wallet, his fingers shaking as he ripped open a condom packet. Blake watched him, chest heaving, his own hands stroking his hard, leaking length as Jordan sheathed himself.

“Tell me what you want.” Jordan whispered, positioning himself, the head of his cock pressing against Blake’s entrance.

“You,” Blake moaned, wrapping his legs around Jordan’s waist, pulling him closer. “Fuck me, Jordan. Make me yours.”

The sound of his name coming from Blake's mouth lit his brain on fire. The filthy, desperate plea was Jordan’s undoing. He pressed forward, slowly, inexorably, breaching that tight, incredible heat. Blake’s breath caught, a sharp hiss of pain and pleasure as his body stretched to accommodate him.

“Okay?” Jordan gritted out, stopping, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of holding still.

“Fuck yes,” Blake gasped, his eyes rolling back. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Jordan began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that made the old car’s suspension creak in protest. Each thrust was a revelation. The tight, clenching heat surrounding him, the way Blake’s body opened for him, took him in, the raw, unfiltered sounds being torn from Blake’s throat.

“Harder,” Blake demanded, his nails digging into Jordan’s shoulders. “Oh, yes, just like that. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me. Keep fucking me...”

Jordan obeyed, pistoning his hips faster, driving deeper with every stroke. The filthy talk, the complete surrender, the overwhelming sensation—it was all hurtling him toward the edge. He could feel Blake’s body tightening around him, could hear his moans climbing in pitch.

“Look at me,” Jordan commanded, grabbing Blake’s chin. “I want to see you.”

Blake’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with pleasure, utterly besotted. “Jordan…” he whimpered, his hand flying to his own cock, stroking himself in frantic time with Jordan’s thrusts.

“You’re mine,” Jordan growled, the possessive words tumbling out, a perfect echo of the ones Jared had used on him. They felt right. They felt true.

That was all it took. Blake’s eyes snapped shut as his orgasm ripped through him with a wordless shout, his cum shooting up in thick stripes across his stomach and chest. The violent clenching of his body around Jordan’s cock threw Jordan over the edge a second later. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural cry, his own release pulsing into the condom in hot, endless waves.

They collapsed together in the messy, cramped space, a tangled heap of sweaty limbs and spent desire. The only sound was their ragged, synced breathing fogging up the windows. Jordan, still buried inside Blake, felt the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through them both.

After a long moment, Blake’s hand came up, his fingers weakly tracing Jordan’s jawline. His eyes, when they opened, were clear and held a terrifying, beautiful depth of emotion.

“I’m in love with you, Jordan,” he whispered, the words raw and awed. “I think I have been for years.”

He looked up, his blue eyes wide

 

 

Chapter 15

 

The words hung in the air, a dense, suffocating fog that seemed to fill the entire interior of Blake’s car. I’m in love with you, Jordan. They weren’t just words; they were a seismic event, cracking the foundation of everything Jordan thought he understood about his own heart.

He pulled back, the physical separation from Blake’s warmth feeling like a necessary, painful act of survival. The scent of their sweat and sex was suddenly overwhelming, a cloying reminder of the intimacy that had just forged a new, impossible connection. “Blake, I…” he started, but his voice failed him. What could he possibly say? Thank you? Me too? The first was inadequate, the second a lie. The truth was a tangled knot of affection, lust, guilt, and a deep, anchoring pull toward Jared that refused to loosen.

Blake’s face, so open and vulnerable moments before, began to shutter closed at Jordan’s silence. The raw hope in his blue eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of the old defensiveness. “Right,” he said, the single word flat and heavy. He awkwardly shifted, pulling his jeans up over his hips, the movement breaking the last physical tether between them.

“It’s not that I…” Jordan tried again, fumbling for his own clothes. The condom felt cold and alien against his skin. “What you said… it’s a lot. And I’m… with Jared.” Aren’t I? The thought was a fresh wave of confusion. After their explosive fight and the possessive, raw sex that followed, what were they?

“I know you are,” Blake muttered, not looking at him as he pulled his shirt on. “Forget I said anything. It was the heat of the moment.” But the tremor in his voice betrayed him. It was anything but.

The drive home was a silent, torturous affair. Jordan replayed Blake’s confession on a loop, each iteration tightening the knot in his stomach. He felt the ghost of Blake’s body against his, the intensity of his gaze, the raw honesty in his whisper. It stirred something deep and undeniable within him, a burning ember of want that was entirely separate from what he felt for Jared. How can I want two people so completely, so differently? The question had no answer, only the heavy weight of impending consequence.

He pulled into his driveway, the house dark and quiet. His mother was at her evening shift, and Scott’s truck was parked in its usual spot. Scott. Of course. The only person in his life who wouldn’t judge the messy, chaotic tangle of his feelings.

Jordan found him in the living room, a half-finished glass of whiskey in one hand, a book facedown on his lap. He looked up as Jordan entered, and his relaxed expression immediately sharpened into one of concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Scott said, his voice a low, steady rumble. “Everything okay with Jared?”

Jordan sank into the armchair opposite him, running his hands through his hair. “It’s not Jared. Well, it is, but it’s… it’s more.” The words poured out of him then, a rushed, jumbled confession about the video, the confrontation, the desperate, passionate collision in the back of Blake’s car, and finally, the three words that had changed everything. He left nothing out, the relief of unburdening himself making him dizzy.

Scott listened without interruption, his gaze fixed on Jordan, his expression unreadable. When Jordan finally fell silent, spent and waiting, Scott took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Wow,” he finally said, letting out a low whistle. “That’s… a situation.”

“You’re telling me,” Jordan groaned, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “What the hell do I do, Scott? I can’t have two boyfriends. That’s… that’s not how this works. Is it?” He looked up, seeking wisdom from the one person who might have any.

Scott swirled the amber liquid in his glass, thinking. “It can work,” he said carefully. “For some people. It’s called an open relationship, or polyamory. But it only works on a foundation of brutal, terrifying honesty. It’s not a way to avoid making a choice; it’s a choice in itself, and it’s a hell of a lot harder than being monogamous.”

Honesty. The word felt like a punch. He’d been hiding so much from everyone, including himself. “So, what? I just go to Jared and say, ‘Hey, I know we just reconnected after a huge fight, but I also really want to be with the guy you just made a porn video with’?” The absurdity of it made a bitter laugh escape his lips. “He’d lose his mind.”

“Probably,” Scott agreed, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. “But you have to start somewhere. You have to talk to him. You have to tell him how you’re feeling—the confusion, the pull you feel toward Blake, everything. You owe him that. And you owe it to yourself.”

Jordan’s mind recoiled at the thought of that conversation. Jared’s jealousy was a fierce, palpable thing. The image of his furious, possessive expression from their last argument flashed in his mind. “He’ll never go for it. He’s too… Jared.”

“You don’t know that,” Scott countered gently. “People can surprise you. But even if he says no, even if it ends things between you, you’ll have been honest. And you’ll be free to explore what you have with Blake without this guilt eating you alive.” He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “And you need to be just as honest with Blake. Tell him you have feelings for him, but that you’re also committed to figuring things out with Jared. He deserves to know where he stands, even if it’s a difficult place.”

The advice was logical, mature, and utterly terrifying. It meant walking into potential fire twice over. But beneath the fear, a sliver of clarity began to form. The knot in his stomach loosened just a fraction. Scott was right. The only way out was through.

“An open relationship,” Jordan murmured, testing the words. They felt foreign on his tongue, a concept from a world far more complicated than the one he thought he lived in. The idea of it sent a jolt of something through him—anxiety, yes, but also a dark, thrilling curl of anticipation. Jared’s possessive fire and Blake’s vulnerable intensity… could I really have both?

He stood up, a new, nervous energy coursing through him. “Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “Okay. Honesty.”

Scott nodded, a look of quiet pride in his eyes. “It’s the hardest path, kid. But it’s the only one that leads somewhere real.”

Jordan pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Jared’s name. His heart hammered against his ribs. Every instinct told him to retreat, to hide, to fall back into the easy pattern of secret hookups and suppressed desires. But he thought of Blake’s heartbroken expression, of Jared’s furious passion, and of the confusing, overwhelming want for them both that refused to be ignored.

He took a deep, shaking breath and typed out a message, the words feeling like a point of no return. We need to talk. For real. Can you come over? He hit send before he could lose his nerve, the whoosh sound echoing in the quiet room.

The three dots appeared almost immediately, bouncing on the screen. Jordan’s mouth went dry. This was it. The first step onto the hardest path.

The dots stopped. Jared’s reply was simple, stark, and utterly terrifying. On my way.