Tonight and Every Night

Chapter 2

Chapter 2When he woke again, the sun was too high to come through the window. PJ was sober now, and realized had still been drunk the first time he woke up. He was glad, because he didn’t think he would have been able to say those things to Giant sober.

Giant’s arm was draped over his chest. PJ had thought that people’s muscles only stood out in lumps when they flexed, but apparently that was wrong. He recited in his mind, Deltoid, triceps, biceps, medial, brachial, lateral, carpal, ulnar—he did fine in science as long as it was just memorizing and numbers and not cutting up animals or setting things on fire—and wondered if it would be okay to touch.

The arm tightened around his chest as Giant stirred.

“Hey.” Giant’s voice made a sort of rumbly vibration through PJ’s chest. It made him shiver, but not like a shiver from being cold. He was plenty warm. “You feeling okay?”

“Um. Yeah. Fine. Good. You?”

“Yeah, not bad. Did I hurl?”

“Before you went to bed.”

“Good thing.” He took his arm off of PJ and pushed himself up. “Man, I need a shower.” At the door to the bathroom, he asked over his shoulder, “You coming?”

PJ got up and followed uncertainly, stopping when he reached the door. Giant was leaning against the wall, watching the stream of water as he waited for it to warm up.

“You can get in if you want,” Giant said without turning. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh.” PJ looked down. There were semen stains on his shirt. His or Giant’s? Probably both. He picked at one with a fingernail, but it didn’t come off. “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty dirty.”

“There’s a laundry in the basement. I’ll lend you a shirt for now.”

“Thanks.” He couldn’t wear his clothes into the shower, could he? That would be Weird and he was not supposed to be Weird. His mother and teachers were always reminding him about Not Being Weird, although sooner or later—usually sooner—the other kids always looked at him funny and said accusingly, “You’re Weird.” Giant hadn’t said it yet, and PJ wanted to put it off as long as possible.

He undressed reluctantly, feeling small and pale and soft compared to Giant. He carefully folded his clothes into squares with the stained parts on the inside, and set them on the edge of the sink.

The hot water felt so good on his head and back that he forgot about being embarrassed. When he turned to let it wash the front of him, Giant held out a plastic bottle of soap.

“Or you want me to do it for you?” he asked.

PJ took a quick glance at his face, but Giant didn’t have any mean look, like he was saying that PJ was too dumb to wash himself right. Did that mean it was okay to say yes? Maybe this was a totally normal thing that guys did all the time, showering with their friends and washing each other, and PJ just didn’t know because he didn’t have friends.

“Sure,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Giant poured some goop into his palm. It had a slightly spicy smell that PJ recognized from Giant’s sheets. Giant lathered up, then set his large hands on either side of PJ’s neck, like a yoke resting on his collarbone, thumbs meeting at the notch. Giant stroked the notch with one thumb for a second, then stroked soap along his shoulders. When he reached PJ’s upper arms, he stepped even nearer, close enough that the erection that PJ was struggling to not have brushed his thigh, and used one hand to wash PJ’s back and the other his chest.

PJ gasped when Giant’s fingers brushed his n****e. Giant paused and murmured, “Is this okay?”

PJ forced out a sibilant, “Yes.” It was taking most of his concentration not to hump Giant’s knee like a poorly trained dog. That would be rude, right? Giant had a hard-on, too. Did that maybe make it okay? Giant and PJ’s mother had both said to ask.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered. Giant’s fingers tightened on his n****e, which made PJ sort of twitch all over.

“Sure.”

“Where?”

One corner of Giant’s mouth lifted. “Wherever you want.”

The hand on PJ’s back slid lower, slippery fingers tracing his ass crack. Giant shifted his leg so it was between PJ’s, which seemed like an invitation.

PJ rubbed himself against Giant’s thigh, so firmly muscled that it was like rubbing against, well, something hard. Not like any part of PJ’s body. His hip and abs were hard, too, and his c**k.

PJ figured that c***s all worked more or less the same way and wrapped his hand around it, stroking and tugging the way he would have done with his own if he were alone. He heard Giant’s breath catch in his throat and decided he must be doing okay.

Giant licked along PJ’s hairline, then his eyebrow and eyelid. It felt strange but nice. Giant’s mouth brushed his cheek, then sucked PJ’s lower lip. He used his tongue to open PJ’s mouth, then slid it inside, which felt pretty weird but also really hot. He stroked his tongue over PJ’s to the rhythm of their hands and hips, and PJ’s pulse seemed to follow the rhythm, too, pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. He came in a warm, thick cloud of pleasure.

Eventually, the cloud thinned enough for him to realize he had gone entirely limp and was being held up by Giant, who was leaning against the tiled wall with his arms around PJ and PJ’s ass on his knee.

“Thanks,” PJ said.

“Any time.” Giant poured more soap into his hands and began to wash the c*m off the two of them. PJ put a hand on the wall for balance and tried not to collapse into a puddle of goo.

My first kiss! PJ wished he had someone to tell, but he couldn’t think of anyone other than his mother who would be interested. And telling her would be complicated, not just because of leaving out all the sexy parts, but because he’d called her at nine the previous night and told her he was in his room studying. Which had been true at that exact moment.

It wasn’t that he wanted to lie to her. She said she was glad that PJ was making friends and going out. But she insisted he call last thing every day and tell her that he was safely back in his room, and she didn’t go to bed until he had, and he felt bad thinking about her waiting by the phone until 2 a.m. So it was just considerate, really, to call before he went out and pretend he was getting back from dinner or a movie.

“You done?” Giant interrupted his reverie. “Or do you want to wash your hair or anything?”

“Uh, I guess I should. Yeah.”

Giant got out of the shower, leaving PJ with only the shampoo for company.

By the time PJ had rinsed the suds out of his hair, Giant was back with a dry towel and a tee shirt. He scooped up PJ’s dirty clothes and set the fresh things in their place. “I’m going to start the wash. There’s coffee stuff in the cabinet over the sink, if you want.”

PJ dried and put on the tee shirt. It hit him at mid-thigh. He wiped the mirror clear with a corner of the towel. He looked like a kid in a smock. His cheeks were pink, like a little girl in a cartoon. He thought about how he was going to be walking out of the bathroom with no underwear and blushed brighter.

He found his sneakers in the bedroom and put them on, then made his way to the living room-s***h-kitchen, stepping gingerly around crushed cans and stains on the carpet. The coffee maker was in the cabinet—put away to keep it from getting broken during the party, probably; he could see dark residue outlining where it usually sat on the counter. He carefully spooned grounds into the filter. He liked things like this, with clear steps and measurements. Things that came out right as long as you followed the instructions.

He filled the water reservoir and pressed the button, then found the switch for the garbage disposal and ran water into the sink until last night’s throw-up was gone. Should he clean more?

The chair that Giant had been sitting in last night still lay on one side. PJ had to brace his feet and lift with both arms to pull it upright.

He turned and almost banged his nose into Giant’s chest.

Giant looked at the chair. “Last night—I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No! No.”

“Oh, good. I, uh. I should probably drink less.”

“Should I drink less?”

Giant sighed. “You should drink the amount you want, and not drink more because other people tell you to.”

PJ kind of knew that, really. “Everyone drinks. I want them to like me.”

“Pidge, people who get you trashed so you’ll do dumb things they can laugh at don’t really like you.”

PJ really knew that, too, but still he found his eyes filling with tears. “Do you not like me?” His voice came out a lot smaller than he meant.

“Hey, what? No! I mean, I don’t really know you that well, you know? But I don’t not like you.”

“Even though I…the thing at the party?”

“Hey, I kissed you, right? You don’t kiss people you don’t like, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Pidge admitted, looking at his feet. “I never kissed anyone before.”

“For real?” Pidge felt Giant’s fingers in his hair, gently tugging his head up. “First kiss, huh? Was it like you pictured it?”

Pidge had a feeling this was a joke he didn’t get, but he only said, “It wasn’t like I thought it would be, but it was good.”

“Mmm.” Giant tilted PJ backward, then kept tilting until PJ gasped and grabbed Giant’s shoulder for balance.

“I won’t let you fall,” Giant said.

Then PJ was being kissed.

This time it was just lips, and they were much softer than PJ had thought they would be. Lips that brushed his, then pressed a little more firmly, then sucked gently. The tip of Giant’s tongue touched his lips, then slipped between them, brushing the tip of PJ’s before withdrawing.

“More like you imagined?” Giant asked as he eased PJ upright.

PJ nodded, his head against Giant’s chest. His heart was pounding. Giant’s fingers were still in his hair. He wished he could stay like this, just curl into the other man’s body like a little animal in a nest.

Of course, that wasn’t possible, but…“Giant? Before, when you said any time…?”

“When was this?”

“When we were in the shower, and I said thanks, and you said any time.”

“Oh, right. Yeah?”

“Did you mean that it would be okay if we did this again? This—you know, s*x stuff.”

He felt the stroking fingers pause in his hair, and braced himself, but they didn’t go away.

“I guess. Unless—um, you are eighteen, right?” Giant asked.

“Of course! I turned nineteen in January.”

“Then how come you’re a freshman?”

PJ blushed and stared at his toes. “I had to repeat first grade,” he muttered. “And second grade.” Third grade he’d been moved to Special Needs Education, but he wasn’t volunteering that, no way.

“How come? Do you have dyslexia or something?”

“No dyslexia. It was cuz I couldn’t answer any questions or talk in class at all, I guess.”

“Why not? You talk fine now.”

PJ did? Giant thought he talked fine?

“I don’t know. It was like…the words were a big mess of noise and I couldn’t figure out what they meant.” It was still like that sometimes.

“But you must’ve caught up later, because here you are in college.”

PJ picked at the wet spot he had just noticed on the edge of his borrowed shirt. That had been some really good kissing. “No, it was just that math competition, then Professor Malcolm got me the scholarship and I got a GED.”

“Oh. Well, at least you got a scholarship for being smart at something. Mine’s just for being big.”

PJ looked up in confusion and Giant added, “Hockey?”

“Oh, right. Sports. I’m not good at any.”

“I’m not even great at hockey. I’m just good at knocking other guys over and not getting knocked down myself.”

PJ knew that. Once, the first time he had gotten drunk, he had walked into Giant. It had been like walking into a wall, except it hadn’t hurt. PJ had fallen over backward. Giant had picked him up, set him back on his feet, patted his head as if he were a dog—PJ liked dogs a lot—and asked if he were okay. PJ had nodded mutely and retreated into a corner to hide his beer-wet shirt and his stiffy. He had been trying since then to manufacture reasons for Giant to touch him again, but had never managed to do more than brush his arm in a crowded room.

“Want some breakfast?”

PJ’s stomach growled before he could answer.

Giant made them sausages and toaster waffles, which had been PJ’s favorite breakfast when he was a little kid, before he got pudgy and his mom said, “We need to be more health-conscious,” and switched them to cereal and fruit.

Bradley emerged from his room while they were eating. “Hey, coffee.”

“Not for you, asshole,” Giant said in a deep growl, so unlike the voice he had been using, that PJ jumped. “After that s**t last night, you’re lucky you still have a mouth.”

“He-hey, man.” Bradley sidled toward the front door, hands raised like someone in a cartoon saying, “Don’t shoot me.” “That wasn’t me. That was Taylor and them.”

“You’re a crap roommate and a crap teammate. I would’ve had your back, man.”

Bradley flinched, muttered, “Sorry,” and dashed out the door.

“Fucker.” Giant glanced at PJ, sitting frozen with a bite of waffle on his fork. “What?” His voice didn’t sound angry anymore.

“Um. Why are you mad at him and not at me?”

“You apologized. And you were trashed. And like you said, you wanted, you know, something. He was just being weak-ass. He’s my teammate. I’ve known him more than two years. He should be looking out for me.” Giant shoved the last half of sausage into his mouth, chewed, and said, “I’ll go put stuff in the dryer.”

“Can I help?”

“You don’t have pants.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I was at least half responsible for your clothes getting dirty.”

PJ felt his face and crotch grow warmer. “I didn’t mind,” he muttered.

Giant grinned. “I noticed you not minding.”

He got up and went to deal with the laundry, sparing PJ having to reply.

When Giant came back, they cleaned up and drank the rest of the coffee. Then his clothes were dry and Giant was leading him to the car. The drive to campus was short and they were there before PJ had worked out a way to ask Giant for his schedule, or his phone number.