As Andrew flew back to his body, he wondered why he hadn't stayed much longer after those last three words. He knew: for Jet, there had been a long time between that party and that moment in the locker room, but for Drew it had been minutes, and something was taking place in Andrew's heart, something simmering toward a boil, and he couldn't let those feelings, unnatural as they were to past Andrew, spend too long in past Andrew's body. The choices that followed that moment with Jet, he knew they were supposed to be his own.
He landed in his bed, the same bed he had left, tightness in his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. A memory flashed through his head—he and Jet, lying on their backs next to each other, at a hotel for a protest. It flitted away as soon as it came, and after a few seconds of staring he leaned up and looked around. Decor looked to be unrolling along the walls, fading into existence, banners and posters for an activist organization Drew vaguely recognised.
Ash appeared in front of him with a wild grin. "You did it, Drew!" Drew felt a thrill run through him, a thrill tainted with sickness, at the thought that he might have succeeded, made his relationship with Julia stick— "Jet's alive! We saved him!" What was that organization?
"I'm not tryna be crude, Ash," Drew said, slowly, "but Jet ain't the most important parta this journey, is he?"
Ash gave him a grumpy frown. "It is a good thing when you save a life, Andrew. Look back, into your memories—after you became his friend, he cleaned up his life. He came out publicly."
"I… I helped him do that," Drew murmured, as the memories filtered in. "Hung out with him all the time, after that day. Helped him be brave."
"And he only blew you one or two more times. Very good restraint, both of you," Ash said, pleasantly. "He switched majors, and he found a purpose, Andrew. He's an activist, now. He's living his best life. I cannot thank you enough." That was it—the place Jet worked for. He must have bought their merch.
"Yeah, I get it, Ash, I mean—" the memories were still filtering in, and slowly Drew began to realise that his friendship with Jet was something that only got deeper and deeper.
Jet and Drew sit in the locker room and talk and talk. "We better turn out the lights," Drew says, eventually.
"Why? Can't stand looking at me?"
"Any longer looking at you and I'm gonna ask you to undress."
The next time Andrew comes down Jet's throat they swear off late-night conversations and switch to texting.
Jet spots Drew for the first time, now that they don't have late-night conversations to stay close. His smile is so big and sweet that Drew fumbles with the bar, but Jet catches it and his biceps tighten so prettily as he pulls the bar back to the rack. "Are you okay, Andrew?"
That's the first time Jet's said Drew's full name like that, and it makes Drew's heart flutter in a way he ignores. "Don't—"
"Don't what?"
"Nothing. Don't love it when most people call me Andrew, but it feels alright comin' from your mouth."
"Andrew," Jet tested, and Drew's heart fluttered again. Shouldn't have said that.
Jet and Drew drive together to a rally, and for the first time it's far enough that they have to get a hotel room. They don't say anything when they jump on the same bed together, and they don't say anything when their lips are three inches away from kissing.
When Jet opens his mouth, Drew butts in. "Your lips look so pretty wrapped around my cock. One more time won't hurt."
It stings to say, but it saves their hearts, and after Jet's stomach is round and white with Andrew's cum, it's the last time they sleep in the same bed. The next time, they talk across the divide between their beds—remembering the final blowjob but never mentioning it, remembering the pounding in their chests and trading smiles that never become anything more.
"It's… cool that Jet's alive… more than cool. I can't believe I grew to like that dude so damn much."
"I'm seeing it now," Ash murmured. "That's… that looks like more than liking, Andrew."
Drew could barely handle the memories that felt like they were flooding into him, the feelings associated, something increasingly rock-solid, even giddy at times, and he shook his head. "That don't seem right. How does someone go from bully to best friend, just like that?"
"It takes a strong bond, Andrew, if I know anything about humans. Something special," Ash finished, with a look on his face that was something like pity.
"No, I'm not ready to deal with this," Andrew said. "This isn't about Jet. I'm not supposed to fall in love with Jet, Ash. You came here to help me get Julia. Do I… do I have her… fuck."
"You told her about Jet's crush. For honesty's sake. But you spent so much time with him, Andrew, sometimes more than her, and she grew… jealous. She woke up next to you texting him and that was the last straw." Ash sat on the bed next to Andrew, putting a hand on his shoulders, and Drew released another of his frustrated barks, putting his head in his hands and yelling a muffled curse.
"Why is it always Jet?" he moaned. "Why can't I make it stick? I just want Julia! That's all I want. I don't want to be alone."
"Are those two things the same?" Ash asked, gently.
"What two things?" Drew asked, irritably.
"Not wanting to be alone and wanting to be with Julia."
"Yes! … No? Maybe? I dunno, man, what are you tryna do, anyway, is this your endgame? Get me with Jet somehow? Is this some kind of cosmic shipping? I don't want it," Andrew growled. "I'll go back and tell Jet to back off. Break the friendship. Cut it off before it becomes… this. Before it ruins things with Julia." But even as he said the words, they made him sick, sicker with every one. "Goddammit. If I like Jet so fucking much, why am I not in bed with him right now? What happened?"
"You… cut him off, too," Ash said. "After you lost Julia."
"Shit. Where the hell did my bravery go?" Drew asked. "I was supposed to fuckin' learn not to run away. But here I am, simping on this bed for two J's and dumbass Drew can't bring himself to talk to either."
"Maybe going back and asking Jet to back off isn't the right idea," said Ash. "Maybe there's a different angle. Maybe you can teach yourself something."
"Bravery? How?" Drew asked. "I got it now, I mean, this me knows it. How would I teach me in the past…" he thought, carefully, slowly, processing the circumstances. "Right after Julia broke up with me… I told Jet off. Right then was when I wimped out. Couldn't bring myself to say sorry. What if I went back, just after all that happened, and… tried to fix things? With both of them? Say sorry? Try to be friends again?"
"More than that," said Ash. "Andrew… have you considered that maybe—you spent so much time infatuated with Julia that you never really thought about what Jet meant to you? Why else did you spend so much time with Jet?"
"What are you suggesting?" Drew asked, helplessly.
"Go on a date with Jet," said Ash. "Be brave. Figure it out, for however long you're not with Julia, if Julia is who you really want. And if you're brave enough to go on a date with Jet, maybe that bravery will ripple, and maybe it'll help you get with Julia if it doesn't work out with Jet."
"I can't get a fourth wish, can I?" asked Drew, with a hoarse chuckle.
"That's never how it works in the stories," Ash said. "My hands are tied. You get one last wish. One last chance to choose. Jet's been in every story so far. Julia hasn't, Andrew. Maybe it's time to find out why."
Andrew struggled with himself—but not for long. He knew what he needed to do. All his memories told him that—he could no longer pretend Julia was his one true love, not when he remembered every day working out with Jet, spotting each other, marching together, eating together, not when he could remember the way they looked at each other when they showered in the locker rooms and the two more times they'd hooked up and left needy and unsatisfied.
And he couldn't forget the way he longed, not just for Julia, but for Jet, when it all ended. Time travel was confusing as shit, but he knew it was he that made those choices. From beginning to end. He had one chance to fix it, to be brave again. "Alright," he said. "Let's… go on a date with Jet."
"Teach yourself bravery, Andrew. You learned it with Julia. Now it's time to fly, all by yourself." Ash smiled, and Andrew smiled weakly back. "Where do you want to go? Minutes after you told Jet to back off?"
"And no earlier," Andrew said. "I don't want to change those choices. I'm going to clean up the mess I made the right way."
"That's what I like to hear," Ash said, with a grin, and then he waved a hand and Andrew fell abruptly out of his body.
He landed in… sadness. Andrew of this moment was numb, still staring at his phone. He hadn't even called Jet. Just texted him, in an increasingly heated conversation, and Andrew could feel the memory of that heat returning to him crisply, the pain of losing Julia, anger at Jet but mainly at himself, fear of losing Jet too—all culminating in his last words, "Back off. I don't want to talk to you"
He choked up reading those last words. "Shit, Drew," he whispered, falling back onto the bed he had in his off-campus apartment, which he shared with another couple—and had been planning to share with Julia. But then it had all ended. "What did you do?"
He looked back at his phone. He could text Jet again, say sorry, beg him for forgiveness… over text? No way. In a split-second decision, he picked up his phone and hit the call button, bringing his phone up to his ear and waiting as it rang, staring at the window.
"What, Andrew?" asked Jet, and Drew choked up again—most of his friends called him Drew, but when Jet said his whole name it always made his heart flutter. When did he get so damn sappy? "Drew?"
"Jet," he whispered. "Jet, I'm sorry—I was angry, I shouldn't have—"
"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Jet said, his voice tight. "I was just asking a damn question. What the hell happened? You just, what, threw me away because you're mad about losing Julia? That wasn't my fault."
"You know, after how many times you tried—"
"You know damn well why I tried to break you two up," Jet growled. "You know how I feel—felt about you. But we decided to be just friends. So I'm not to blame here, am I?"
"No, you're not, I just—fuck, Jet. It's me. I'm at fault. I've been ignoring it for so long."
"Ignoring what? You haven't been ignoring me," Jet said, sounding helpless. "You spend so much time with me. So much. You said yourself that Julia doesn't like it. Why?"
"Because—because—goddammit, I think I might love you," said Andrew, in a rush, feeling his chest seize up. He actually believed what he said.
But Jet was silent.
"You know how hard it is for me to take my eyes off you. My heart fuckin' flutters when you call me Andrew and don't you dare tell anyone I just said that but it's true. And I've been spending all this time dating Julia instead because, I dunno, I guess I fell in love with her first and that gives her dibs? But I can't ignore this shit. I can't ignore how this makes me feel. How you make me feel, Jet."
"I don't want to be your rebound, Andrew," said Jet, knowing damn well what saying 'Andrew' made Drew feel. "Do you really mean it?"
"Mean as fuck," said Drew, with a grin. "So, let's go out on a date. Tonight. Six o'clock."
Jet paused, and finally asked, "Where?"
Perks of going back in time before the pandemic—dates outside. It was early winter, Drew remembered. "Let's go ice skating. Up at the outdoor mall."
"Dinner first?" Jet asked, wryly.
"And we can take hot chocolates up the hill after," Drew added, with a private grin.
"I'd like that," Jet said. "I'll buy dinner." Drew opened his mouth, but Jet interrupted, "you get the skates, maybe the chocolate, too."
"That eager, huh?" Drew asked.
"Don't test my patience," said Jet, patiently. "A few minutes ago you told me to stop talking to you altogether."
"You gonna hold that over my head the resta my life?" Drew droned.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. We haven't even gone on one date yet."
"What do you—ohhhh," Drew said, smacking his forehead. "Anyway, I'm down. You wanna pick a place at the mall that works for you and text me?"
"Deal," Jet said. "See you at six."
As Drew put the phone down, he felt something rising in him, something he'd last felt… a long time ago, it seemed. Not since the early days of his relationship with Julia. He'd sobered up some since then, and he knew those feelings didn't always last, but man, he felt light. He was going to have a date. With Jet. He could hardly believe it.
But… did that mean Andrew had to leave? He'd made his change. Was it past Drew's turn to make it work? Andrew didn't feel ready to let go of the reins, not yet. Past Drew… past Drew was accustomed already to the way he felt with Jet. Who knew how often he got these flutters? But Drew right now, he was feeling it hard, the weight of hundreds of new memories telling him, yelling, even, one thing: you love Jet. So much.
If this date worked out, then past Drew would have many more. Drew right now could afford to take the reins for this date—needed to.
But… one more thing. He wasn't ready to give up Julia just yet, either. He picked up his phone again and composed a text: "I'm so sorry, Julia, for making you feel like I was forgetting you. You don't deserve that. You're amazing. I hope we can talk again soon." He hovered over the send button, hesitating. What if she replied while he was in the middle of his date and he missed it? If that was the case, past Drew could deal with it when current Drew left. He chuckled to himself, scratching his head, hit the send button, and lay back on his bed, thinking about Jet.
He sorted through his memories more as he waited patiently for the right time to leave, and he found that most of what he replayed was of Jet—all the crazy things they'd done since they became friends, all the ways they tried to ignore their mutual attraction to each other and yet still kept coming back.
The blowjob memories were a trip. His face had grown hot when he remembered kneeling in front of Jet's cock the second time, in all its massive, terrifying glory, and gotten cold feet about trying to suck it. Jet had been so disappointed. "You're a top," Drew reassured himself, even though his cock throbbed dangerously at the thought of taking that monster down his throat.
Eventually he hopped into the shower, rubbing one out to those memories, washing his hair, and making sure he was fresh. He got on warm jeans, warm socks, warm sweater, warm everything, shaped the tight curls atop his head, and admired Past Drew's taste in white-painted nails in the mirror—before coming outside to wait for Jet to drive up in his car.
Jet stepped out of the little, puttering blue Honda before Drew could come to the other side, and Drew felt another flutter just looking at Jet, his broad-shouldered, muscle-packed build tightly outlined but fully covered in clothes Drew himself had helped pick out on a shopping trip. Jet wore earrings, now, and looked so at home in them: his own little defiance of the gender binary. He rarely painted his nails, even though Drew advocated relentlessly for it, but he'd wear crop tops on the regular, nowadays, something Drew had never felt he himself could pull off.
Drew and Jet seemed to drift toward each other, meeting each other in the middle and slowly wrapping their arms around each other, setting chins on shoulders. "I wish I told you more often… just how beautiful your freckles are," Drew said, into Jet's ear.
"And I wish I told you more often how much I love your curls," said Jet, his hot breath misting over Drew's ear and making him shiver.
"Why didn't we do this earlier?" Drew asked, squeezing Jet tighter and laying a gentle kiss on his neck. It felt so right.
"You tell me," Jet said, with a chuckle, and at last he parted, letting his lips brush teasingly across Drew's. "Do you want to get in the car? We'll never get to dinner otherwise."
The two of them drove off chatting excitedly, the fiasco of a few hours ago long forgotten underneath the euphoria of doing what they'd so long wanted to do. As they drove, as they walked into the diner, as they waited for their food, they talked about all the times they pretended, they talked about what they loved about each other, they broached the once uncomfortable topic of their three clandestine trysts and laughed about it.
"You know when you're spotting me at the bench and I'm looking up at you? You're always so beautiful from below," Jet said.
"And what about when you're spotting me?" Drew asked, with a grin.
"I want to swab your throat," Jet said, making Drew choke on his drink. "You'd look so hot on your back, head hanging over the bed, neck bulging while you choke on more than just that drink…"
"God! Jet! When'd you become so fuckin' dirty? I'm a top, remember?"
"Maybe we'll test that theory…"
"Nah, you know I'm not a huge sports guy, Jet," Drew said, casually. "But I get huge for you."
"I know just how huge," Jet said, with a wink.
"No, really, though, I still liked coming to your games. Mostly 'cause you look beautiful running around like that, but also 'cause I know you're having fun."
"I always wished we were in the same major so you could tutor me," Jet said. "Do you have any idea how cute you look in glasses?"
"I ain't cute," Drew grumbled. "I'm a hung buff monster and you're afraida me."
"Only one of those three words for you is accurate," Jet said, wryly. "I'm buff. You're just muscular."
"Just muscular," Drew grumbled, in a mocking tone. But he didn't want to be much bigger than he was, anyway. He'd liked the way he'd looked in his bedroom mirror once he'd come back from his first wish. And he kind of liked that Jet was bigger than him.
"I mean, all that time I was bullying you, I think I was just trying to get your attention," said Jet.
"It worked," Drew said, shaking his head. "So what about all the times we were at the gym and you just… never talked to me?"
"My Andrew attractions were satisfied just looking at you move."
"Stalker."
"Did you ever get fantasies about bullying me in the bedroom?" Drew asked, trying to decide whether or not he liked that idea even though his dick was already making the decision for him.
"I still do," Jet said, with a grin. "And I can make it real good. Just ask some of my hookups."
"I think I won't," Drew said, his voice strained.
"Funny, I think you will," Jet asked. "I'll give you some numbers. If I can't convince you to get under me, they will."
"You just keep telling yourself that, babe."
They talked all the way to the skating rink, as naturally as anything, because finally they were free to say… anything, every topic they'd never broached because it ran too close to the topic of their mutual attraction, and more beyond that. Drew couldn't believe how right it all felt to hold Jet's hand, to wrap his arm around Jet's back, to lay a kiss on his cheek before strapping on skates, and to laugh with him as they messed around on the rink and fell over. The night seemed to go by like a breeze, one touch to another, one smile to another, one fall and accompanying laughter to another, until they were stumbling out of the rink and walking back to the car.
Before they went up the hills, they stopped by a Starbucks and ordered those hot chocolates—and then they were off, heat and music on in the car as they wound up the roads and found a nice vantage point where they could park and sit together on a bench, sipping from their hot chocolate and looking out over the beautiful lights of their college and city.
"I've been wishing for a moment like this for a long time," Jet said. "To be with you. Nothing between us."
"I'm kinda embarrassed," said Drew, "that I didn't figure this out before."
"I get it," said Jet. "Julia. But what matters now is that you're here with me."
"Yeah. You're right," Drew murmured, into Jet's ear. "I really hope this lasts."
"I hope so, too, Andrew," said Jet, laying his head on Andrew's shoulder.
And, as they watched the lights move and blink, sitting together in the intermittent silence, Drew understood that he really did hope this lasted—that, perhaps, if he returned to his body and woke up with Jet instead of Julia, it wouldn't be so bad. So much had changed, so quickly, and yet at the same time it felt like a lifetime had passed in the momentary span of a few hours. An hour at a party, an hour in a locker room, and this date—but all the memories every one of those hours had created.
Andrew wasn't ready to let go of it. But, as they drove back home, he slowly resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to return to his present time, that he'd have to leave the rest of these decisions to his past self and hope it all worked out.
And if it didn't? Well, he felt brave enough to try again, once he returned. If all of this was a cosmic trick of some sort, where nothing could truly, fully change, well, at least he'd learned something. And he'd take that with him forever.
Their parting was sweet for Jet but bittersweet for Andrew, and he walked slowly up the stairs to his apartment, slipping into his bedroom and flopping on the bed. For the first time in hours he pulled out his phone and looked at his texts—he had one from Julia.
"Drew, I don't want you to feel like you have lie to me. I know you like Jet, maybe even love him. And I think you need space to figure that out. We don't have to stop being friends. But you should go on a date with him. Okay?"
Andrew looked at it fondly and began to type. "Thanks, Julia. I actually did. I'm figuring this out. I'm sorry for the way I made you feel." He paused, and finally it hit him: this wasn't a probationary period, where he tried out Jet and went back to Julia when he was done. Julia was free to make her own choices, to find somebody else to love. And if Drew wanted to date Jet, he had to accept that.
So, he added, "I'm glad we can still be friends. I love you, Julia." And he sent it.
He lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a small smile. "Alright, Drew. It's up to you now. Don't fuck this up. And if you do… be brave, okay? Fix it. I'm trusting you."
And, letting out a long, deep sigh, he willed himself out of his body with his breath and drifted through the starry currents for the last time ever.
Drew landed back in his body and shot up to his feet, feeling a shifting in his body and immediately turning to look in the mirror—his body was filling out more, in particular his ass, which apparently he had been neglecting before this change, but either way, he looked good.
It seemed like the walls of his room were expanding, changing colour, too, merch of sports players appearing on the walls while the bed expanded, sprouting pillars for the corners and a truss on top. He turned to face the windows again—no, they were glass doors with a curtain, and they opened to a balcony. This level of indulgence was getting too much, he decided, before turning to face Azriel.
He hesitated. "I did it, Ash," he said. "I went on a date with Jet. What changed?"
Ash pointed to a picture frame on the far side of the room. "Take a look, Andrew."
As Andrew stepped toward the wall, his breath hitched in his throat and he made a stumbling run for the frame to get a closer look. Tears welled up in his eyes and his vision blurred, but in that single moment of clarity he'd seen it: Andrew and Jet, standing in suits under a gazebo, gazing at each other with a look that made something rise so high in his chest that it flowed right out his eyes.
He turned to see Ash next to him, looking at him with the kindest of smiles, and a single sob escaped his throat before he stepped in and hugged Ash tightly, tears spilling from his eyes. "I'm not alone anymore," he whispered.
"No, Andrew, you aren't," said Ash, rubbing his back soothingly. Andrew let himself cry softly, let himself feel the emotions, let the memories all flood in and bowl him over like Jet bowled him into their shared bed on their wedding night. All the pain, all the loneliness, the heaviness on his chest was flitting away, replaced with all the butterflies in the world; tears of sadness and joy turning into pure joy.
"Thank you," Andrew murmured, his breath hitching into another happy little sob. "God, I'm pathetic."
"It was all you, Andrew," said Ash. "You deserve a cry."
"A short one," said Andrew, with a choked laugh, and he slowly peeled away. "Uh, sorry about my dick. Forgot I'm still naked."
"Don't worry," Ash said, with a grin. "I prefer angels. We can have much freakier sex." Before Drew could respond, Ash raised a hand and shushed him. "Do you hear that?"
It was the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. "Is it him?"
"It's him," Ash said, with a smile. "And he's horny."
Drew's cock throbbed.
"I should warn you, though, Andrew… he's a switch. And, apparently, so are you."
Drew's mind flashed to Jet's cock—and his own throbbed harder. "Oh, shit."
"Don't worry," Ash said, with a wry grin. "It appears you're well-trained to take his cock. On both ends."
"Oh my God."
"She's not watching this part, sorry. You're on your own."
"Well, nice to know she isn't going to watch me bottom for the first fucking time in my life." Drew grinned weakly. "I'm pretty sure it's my turn tonight."
"It's not your first time," Ash said, with a cheeky grin.
"You know what I mean, dammit," said Drew, putting his face in his hands. "Just be brave, Drew. It's going to be hot."
"Enjoy," Ash said, his voice singsong in that innocent way only an angel could pull off. "It's your new life. Allow yourself to love it."
"I already do," said Drew, sitting on the bed and looking at Ash. "Thank you, As—Azh—"
"Azriel. But you can call me Ash. Look for me in Heaven, will you?" He paused. "In fact—don't tell anyone I said this—but I'll be watching over you both. If you ever need someone to talk to, just ask. I'm a licensed therapist."
"Sure you are," Drew said, and they both laughed. "Bye, Ash."
"Bye, Andrew." And then the angel, Morgan Freeman bodysuit and all, disappeared in a soothing flash. Andrew lay back on his new bed, listening for the sound of Jet unlocking the door of their house—he must have missed it, or their room was fairly soundproof. So he waited patiently, lying on his bed with a fond look on his face, waiting for his husband. His husband. God, the life they'd led. There were so many new memories, and the old, lonely ones were already starting to fade away, little but little. He was resigned to that. He'd been given a new life, with new beauty, and that meant leaving the old one behind.
Andrew watched as the doorknob slowly turned and Jet opened the door, peering in quietly to check if Drew was asleep. When he saw the light was on, he swung it open, and Drew sat up with a matching grin, eyes roving across Jet's form, from his beautiful windblown red hair to the freckles on his cheeks, from the ginger stubble on his sharp jaw to the muscular torso underneath his tight white shirt and the thighs peeking out from his gym shorts. "Jet," he breathed.
"Hey, Andrew," said Jet, in that tired, husky voice he had whenever he came back from the gym, but he looked more than energetic as he stripped off his shirt over his full abdomen and chest, stepping closer and shutting the door behind him. Drew stood up to meet him, and as Jet approached him, untying the loop of his exercise shorts, he murmured, "Look at you, all ready for me. You're so beautiful."
Jet wrapped his arms around Drew and pulled him in close, their chests pressing together, Drew's cock throbbing between Jet's thighs and getting harder. Drew ran his hands down Jet's sides as they gazed into each other's eyes, and as their lips met, Drew hooked his fingers underneath Jet's shorts and pulled them down, boxers included, like he'd done so many times before. It never got old… especially not now, when it was technically Drew's first time. Their tongues swapped tenderly, lips suckling on each other until Jet's teeth nipped at Drew's lips and Drew nipped back, and then the kiss grew more feverish, hands running all over each other's body as they moaned and macked until their lips were raw.
Drew pulled back with a gasp, and Jet grinned and pushed Drew back onto the bed, forcing him onto his back and dragging him upward by hooking his hands under Drew's shoulders, and when Jet leaned up, looming over Drew with his cock still soft and floppy but still huge, he said, "Do you want a bully tonight?"
"Not tonight," Drew said, weakly. "Treat me tender, baby."
"Your wish is my command," Jet said, leaning back and pulling Drew up to a sitting position. "Do you want to get down and get me ready? I know how much you like watching me grow. Been keeping it down for you, just in case."
"If you wanna terrify me, sure," Drew said, with a grin.
"That, too. C'mon, baby. On your knees. Show me some love." Jet got off the bed and Drew followed, heat pounding in his chest, cock throbbing and pulsing and already beading with precum. He could hardly believe he found this so hot. Drew sunk to his knees, staring at Jet's monster, which was already as long as his face was tall, and he remembered how thick it would get when hard, remembered that somehow it fit in his mouth, knowing that it wouldn't today, because blowing Jet was never tender, not with a cock that thick.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed Jet's low-hanging head lovingly, suckling on the ridge and then lapping at it with his tongue, looking up at Jet as he drew his tongue up from the bottom of Jet's head to an inch past the ring around it, again and again. Jet laid his hand on Drew's hair, slipping his fingers into the curls and rubbing his scalp softly as Drew bobbed up and down with his tongue, swirling it around the head, suckling with lips on the sides as Jet's meat began to rise and thicken.
Drew simply redoubled his efforts, drawing his tongue up as far as he could, lapping at the widening base and kissing Jet's crotch. Jet came down with a hand to grip the base of his cock, and Drew chuckled and leaned back enough for Jet to gently smack Drew's cheeks with his half-hard anaconda. "A little bit of a bully?" he asked, with a grin. "I'll fuck you nice and hard… after I take it slow."
"We'll see," Drew said, with a chuckle, letting the memories of those wicked trysts trickle into his mind. "You can spit if you want."
The span of a second passed between those words and the sound of high-speed expectorant splattering Drew's nose and lips. Jet brought his hand to Drew's face and rubbed the spit into his cheeks, both of them moaning. "You're too damn hot, Drew," Jet said. "That's my slut."
"Fuckin' bully," Drew said, wryly. "So what if I'm your slut," he grumbled, with a little smile, and then he dipped down and got under Jet's cock, letting it drape over his face as he leaned in to lap at Jet's balls, slathering them with his tongue and suckling on the orbs, drawing them into his mouth one by one with a pop and leaving a little foam on each. Jet was still bobbing to full mast, but he was almost there, and Drew rose up a little higher, licking the underbelly of Jet's cock, going higher and higher along the length that was quickly nearing a footlong.
Jet had started properly drooling precum; there was a trail of it slipping down the underside of his cock that Andrew met and lapped up, reaching further and further until he brushed against the frenulum. In a mirror of the blowjob Andrew had received hours ago, Jet shot a messy burst of precum, suddenly enough to get past his eyes' defences and leave his vision with a spotty, translucent film of white. "It's almost as good as cumming on your glasses," Jet said, with a chuckle. "Next time you let me bully you, wear them, alright?"
Drew grinned, precum shooting onto his teeth from Jet's cock and coating his lips and chin. "Whatever you say, baby. Looks like you're ready."
"Needs more lube," Jet said. "Start stroking. I'll paint your face while you paint my cock."
Andrew willingly obliged, pointing Jet's slit right at his nose as he wrapped his hand around the base—barely fitting his fingers around it, to his aroused chagrin—and began to tug. Just like he had painted Jet's face, now he painted his own, precum splashing from the tip of his nose to the rest of his face wildly messily, while it sputtered and drooled from the tip and poured over the side. He spread the sheen of precum all over Jet's bludgeon of a cock while his face endured the onslaught of translucent whitish paint, glazing his cheeks, his forehead, filling out the film over his vision and splattering from forehead into his hair, where Jet rubbed it into his scalp and spread out the mess.
"I love ruining your hair with my seed," Jet said, with a grin. "Makes it so obvious that you're mine."
"It's not even your seed yet," Andrew said, before precum shot into his mouth and shut him up.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Jet replied. "If you had a womb I bet I could breed you with precum alone."
"Don't need a womb to do that," Drew said, and then Jet pulled him up by the shoulders, laying his hands on Drew's sides and running them over his stomach.
"No, no I don't," he murmured. "You're going to look good and bred by the end of tonight, Andrew. This load's going to be big."
"As always," Drew teased. "You're all lubed up, babe. So why don't you do your job and breed me?"
"Be careful what you wish for," Jet said. "One day, I might just do it." He cupped Andrew's cheeks in his soft hands and then laid them both on Andrew's chest, pushing him down onto the bed, leaving spotty handprints made of his precum. "Legs up, baby. I'm coming inside."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Drew said, biting his lower lip and obeying his husband, pulling his legs back, exposing his ass between his two thick cheeks. "God, you're so big," he said, staring down that cannon of a cock, thirteen inches and so thick it had taken a succession of three dildos to train for… years ago. He knew in his head that that training had worked, but it still scared him, knowing that thing was going to gape his ass and stuff him with so much cum it might come out of his mouth.
"You saying that won't make it any smaller," Jet said, rubbing his cock with his hand, collecting precum until it was smeared all over his palm, and then smacking Drew's ass wetly, precum splattering as the sound reverberated through the room. "You've made your ass so perfect for me. I taught you well." So that was why his ass had grown. Duh. "Ready for me?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," Andrew said, with another of his weak grins, the kind that drove Jet up the wall. Just like that, Jet moaned needily and aimed his cock between Drew's cheeks, pushing the thick head forward to spread the cleft and nudge up against Andrew's hole.
Shit shit shit we're doing this, Andrew thought, trying to keep his mental virginity in his mind rather than letting it out as Jet gripped Andrew's hips tenderly and started to push. "Oh, God," he whispered, as he felt himself already starting to open, but it felt so right, the more he stretched. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, it's so much—Jet," he whimpered, hands coming down to grip the sheets tightly as Jet forced him wider and wider. "Shit shit shit shit—Jet! Fuuuuck," he gasped, throwing up his head as Jet's cock finally popped in, the burn flaring for one hot moment and then collapsing into pleasure that made him fall back and moan in need. "It feels—so good…"
"Every time I fuck you," Jet said, shaking his head, sawing his hips gently back and forth, the ridge of his head popping just barely out of Drew's ass and back in again, in a movement that made Jet moan every time. "You're always so tight. And you always act like it."
"You're so fucking big, that's why," Drew groaned, and they both chuckled. "Deeper, baby, please," he moaned, unable to believe he was asking for that, but Jet gladly obliged, grinning and pushing while Drew grit his teeth and took it, clenching his fists on the sheets again as his body fought the strain and yet opened up anyway. Jet's bulbous head ran across Drew's prostate, making him gasp and shoot precum hard and long enough to splatter him from his handprinted chest to his face and hair to the bed behind him.
Jet went back to tenderly sawing again, hands running lovingly across Drew's body as his cock rubbed up against Drew's prostate repeatedly, coaxing forth more precum for Jet to massage into Drew's dark brown skin. "How are you feeling, baby?" he asked.
"It's so amazing, Jet," Andrew groaned, clenching his ass around Jet's cock and feeling the force of the burst of precum that followed. Every sensation felt so new, from being plugged up with a cock this insanely thick to feeling his prostate massaged, the filling pleasure and the forceful blasts of precum—but his body was begging for it, acting on reflex to coax forth more precum and suck Jet in. "I'm so full."
"Wait until I'm poking your gut with it." Andrew moaned pitifully at the thought, shoving away the memories of the feeling so he could experience it anew. "You want it, huh? Brace yourself, then, because you're taking every inch, right now…"
"Right now?" Drew gasped, as Jet pulled back and thrust forward, cleaving depths of Drew's ass open that he had never felt in his waking memory, and then continuing inexorably, gripping Drew's hips tightly as he sunk in deeper and deeper. Jet soon pushed against a new level of tightness that made Drew shut his eyes tightly and scrunch up his face, whining a high-pitched "Fuuuuuck!" as Jet pushed him apart, every new inch as difficult to take as the last and yet taken so smoothly. "Goddamn you're so big, it's so muuuuch—fuck!"
"It's like it's your first time," Jet panted, "but you can actually take all of it. I love the way you sound right now, babe, keep moaning for it—few more inches to go, you can do it." He kept pushing, finally stopping just as Drew started to feel something odd—and then he pulled back, grinning down at Drew, and he punched forward, his cock butting up against Drew's ab-studded gut and pushing it visibly outward, a rounded bulge appearing in Andrew's stomach.
Drew gasped, a hand flying to his stomach and feeling the bulge. Jet pulled back and thrust in again, the head bumping up against Drew's hand and making him moan needily. "Fuck, the stretch, it feels so wrong and so right. More, please, Jet," he begged, and Jet grinned and began to push again, the bulge growing up Drew's stomach, like a cylinder rising out of his skin, pulling Drew's skin tighter until he could see the outline of Jet's cockhead, and the ridge, and the veins on the top of Jet's cock, trailing down until they disappeared. Jet's hips smacked against Drew's ass, and Drew clenched the sheets again as Jet pushed just a little bit deeper, making him whimper in virginal-but-not pleasure and strain.
"Is that tender enough for you?" Jet asked, leaning forward and down, looming over Andrew. "Open your mouth, baby." Andrew obliged, his full lips parting to his tongue, and Jet hocked up another messy gob of spit that landed right in Andrew's mouth, a string following it and drooling off of Jet's lips to land on Andrew's tongue. "A little bit more bullying won't hurt."
Drew swirled the spit in his mouth and swallowed it with an audible gulp—and then moaned, "Not yet. Thrust a little, long and slow for me, I wanna feel you stretching my gut like that before you mating press me into oblivion like I know you wanna do."
"You get me so hard," Jet moaned, "talking like that. You're gonna get it, baby. Everything you want." He drew his cock back, inches and inches, until he was just at the edge of where that straining tightness started, and then he cleaved right back through Andrew's depths like a diver through water, a long, unstoppable thrust, sinking into Drew's pocket as Drew cursed through his teeth, bulging out his stomach, pressing up against his ass and making that final, whimper-inducing push.
And then again, out so far he had to breach that tightness again, making Andrew moan and curse in need and resistance and desire, as his mind was retrained to take what his body took so well, as he handled the influx of pleasure and strain every time, as he was deep-dicked—truly deep-dicked—by the biggest cock he'd ever seen and the only cock he'd ever taken.
He was surprised by his own stamina, as Jet thrust again and again, every time moulding Drew's body more and more to Jet's cock, making the tightness a little bit easier to breach every time, though it never ceased to make him want to curse and moan. But this carried on for minutes, precum shooting into his body hard enough to make his stomach bulge a little bit more, slowly making him feel fuller and heavier as Jet plumbed his depths and he took it like a champ.
As the minutes passed, Jet leaned down far enough for Drew's gently bouncing cock to slap against Jet's abdomen and deliver the brunt of Drew's volleys of precum straight for Jet's abs, chest, and chin. And his lips met Drew's, over and over again, sometimes a gentle brush, sometimes the beginning of a feverish kiss—and during each such kiss, Jet sped up his thrusts a little bit more, retaining that rhythm and building up momentum.
And finally, Jet parted from a kiss to say, "Are you ready for a bully? I want to fuck you so hard, Andrew, I can barely hold back."
Drew hesitated for a few moments, looking down at the precum-splattered bulge in his stomach. "You're going to fuck me up, Jet."
"Telling me what I already know," Jet said, with a grin. "I'll be tender again after you finish coughing up my cum. C'mon, brace yourself. Lemme beat your ass to a pulp, just like you deserve, baby."
"Nnnnngh, alright," Drew gasped, blowing past his inhibitions to give the fatal command. "Ruin me, Jet. Like you always do." Jet grinned and raised a hand— "but no smacking this time, alright?"
Jet nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, no worries, as long as I get to rearrange your insides." He looked for all the world like an eager puppy—but this puppy was more like a direwolf, and Drew was seconds away from disaster. Jet's thrusts began to speed up, much quicker than before, every thrust a bit shorter, a bit harder, a bit faster, hips slapping into ass more and more frequently until it looked like Jet was rebounding off of the bubbles of Andrew's butt.
Jet found Andrew's shoulders and gripped them with his hands, bracing Andrew even more so he could start to hammer into him, like some kind of fuck machine, but with all the force of Jet's massive body slapping into Andrew's ass and all the weight of Jet's cock slamming through Andrew's abs and delivering force and pleasure all throughout Drew's torso, jostling him and busting him up in the best of ways.
Andrew lifted his head to look at Jet with open mouth, and Jet took the opportunity to spit again, aiming badly and getting it on Andrew's forehead, spitting again to land in Drew's mouth. He let his head fall back and moaned long and low, his voice rising and falling like the tides as Jet sped up and slowed down, building both of them up toward a flood of an orgasm.
But Jet wasn't done. He started to climb up onto the bed as he thrust, pushing Andrew along the way, and once there was enough space, he pushed back Drew's legs even more, grinning at Andrew and leaning downward, looming closer and closer until his head slotted within Drew's shoulder and neck and their bodies pressed flush into each other, pushing the bulge of his cock deeper into Andrew's insides. "Fuck, even tighter," Jet said. "Here we go, baby."
But he was already thrusting, hips gyrating up and down, slapping against Andrew's ass with every rotation, cock blasting into Andrew's depths with every thrust, making Andrew moan and shake in need, his body and his mind rocked harder than ever. The curses came out like a flood, in a rush, strangled "fuck!"s and "shit!"s and everything in between, long or short and choppy, as he laid helplessly under Jet's onslaught of thrusts and precum, inundating his body with delicious, overwhelming force.
"Cum for me, soon, baby, I want you drenched in your own cum before I flood you," Jet hissed, into Andrew's ear. "You're close, aren't you?"
"So close," Drew gasped. "Gonna—white out—Jet! Fuck! I'm coming!" And then his vision was gone, eyes rolling back and vision going white with pleasure as he shot as massive load of cum between their bodies, soaking them both in cum in shot after shot, the mess of it all spreading to either side, soaking into the sheets and pooling thereafter.
He clenched and clenched again, coaxing Jet closer and closer to his orgasm, and Jet growled and rose up, hands scooping under Drew's back and pulling him upward as Jet rose onto his knees, pounding downward into Drew's body. He rose further, weight rocking back onto the balls of his feet as his knees lifted from the bed, and he carried Drew that much higher as Andrew came like mad, blasting his own face with it as it slowly died down.
But Jet was moments away. He piledrove his cock into Drew's stomach, his bulge restored to full flag, visibly shifting with every thrust. "Here it comes, baby, every drop, right inside, are you ready? Fuck, baby, I'm coming!"
And, as Andrew's vision returned to him, he felt it—the first burst of cum exploding against his insides, rushing through and filling him up like a flood, followed by another shot and another. It was more cum than Jet had released during any of the blowjobs Drew remembered before they started dating, so damn much, inundating him like an overzealous irrigator, fertilizing him like the Nile in flooding season, and rushing into his stomach to fill him up.
He felt it, the fullness rising and rising, but not to discomfort like with food, something that was going to be so much better, he knew already. It pressed at the walls of his stomach, his abdomen, and his gut began to round out, just like Jet's had in the locker room hours ago, but now it was Drew's turn to feel it. It was euphoric. He could feel himself swell with every burst of cum, a new kind of pressure to which his body had to submit, and it did, with more pleasure than strain.
A cloudy sort of bliss filled his stomach as it rounded and rose, mixed with the tension of being so full and stretched, his muscles and skin strained yet blissed-out as Jet pumped more and more semen into him. The flow didn't slow down, not as Andrew's stomach took on the first inch of girth, nor the second, nor the third, rising past the bulge of Jet's cock to make Andrew look thoroughly bred, months past the moment he'd been metaphorically knocked up.
But he was coming to feel like he could only hold so much, even as his taut gut took on a white tint and kept on growing, four inches, five. Jet's geyser was slowing down, more and more, but not before Andrew felt the valve atop his stomach loosen in a moment of weakness and a gush of cum blast up his throat. His eyes widened as he gagged, his throat forcing the cum right up and out until he coughed it out his lips—and then came another wave, and then another, as Jet still piledrived the cum straight into his stomach, gravity pulling the cum down into his oesophagus until it waterfalled out of his mouth and then leaked in spurts from his nose.
"It's—so much," he said, his voice wet and slick, and those were the only words he could get out before he coughed up another wave, to his chagrin. His stomach still swelled with every burst of cum, but Jet was fading fast, now, and Andrew found himself feeling that "too much"-ness less and less. Jet panted as he came down, slowly lowering Drew to the bed again, pumping his cock slowly as he loosed his last few messy ropes, and finally he sunk back down onto Drew's body, using his arms to hover just over Andrew's gut, so as not to force any more cum up his throat and out his mouth.
Jet finally seemed to come to, his eyes focusing on Andrew's, which were still filmed with white, and he grinned. "Told you I'd make you cough it up, baby." He began to shift his weight off of his arms… and onto Andrew's gut.
"Oh, fuck," Andrew said, taking a sharp breath. "Jet, don't tell me—"
"I'm still bullying you, my little slut," Jet said, and he let his weight fall fully onto Andrew's cum-packed stomach, blasting it right through Andrew's valve and flooding his throat with it for a few long seconds, grinning madly. He finally let up, watching as Andrew retched it up in a waterfall of off-white seed, spilling from his mouth until it was all gone.
"I hate you so much," Andrew said, his voice hoarse and wet.
"As a bully deserves," Jet said, kissing Drew's cheek. The weight fell back on Andrew's gut—
"Oh, no you don't," Andrew growled, pushing up against Jet's chest and resisting his incursion.
"Alright, alright," Jet said, rising again, and they both laughed weakly. "But I want to be close to you. Hope you don't mind if I pull out."
"My ass needs a damn break," said Drew, grinning at Jet and then moaning abruptly as Jet started to pull out. His gut and intestines might have been flooded, but there was still thirteen inches of his insides that were about to relax from being stuffed with a cock almost as thick as a wrist. And, inch by inch, they did, tension flooding away in bliss that made him arch his back in need or more. The bliss of release reached a fever pitch as the last few inches left his ass, and when the head popped out he collapsed from his arch into the puddle of cum on the bed.
"That was insane," Drew said, at last, while Jet rolled over and fell to his back beside him. They turned to look at each other, smiling weakly, and Jet reached up to rub Drew's hair, full as it was with cum and pre. It squelched.
"We do it all the time, baby," Jet teased.
"How many couples are this good?" Drew asked, smirking.
"You told me yourself, the more you're into it, the more you cum," Jet said. "How many guys do you see walking around stuffed like you are right now?"
"Gay guys aren't the majority," Drew said, sticking out his tongue.
"We're good at this, Andrew. You're good at this." Jet smiled, and Andrew felt his heart flutter again.
"I'm not gonna argue with that one."
They lay like that, side by side, for a few more minutes, idly chatting, before they finally got up to take a shower together, leaving the cum to soak in and treat the fabric. Once its work was done the bed would be renewed in softness—but they did this so often that their bed was always pristine.
They flopped on the bed together when they came out of the shower, relishing in its softness, wading up through it until their heads hit the pillows. They lay on their sides, facing each other, sharing a quick kiss—after the many they'd swapped in the shower. "You're big spoon tonight, Jet," said Drew. "Them's the rules."
"C'mon, let me be little spoon for a few minutes at least," Jet said, innocently. "Your gut's all warm and soft."
"If you fall asleep without turning around and hugging me to those massive tits you call pecs, I swear I'll bully you tomorrow night when I fuck you."
"Oh, Andrew's tough," Jet teased, but he still turned around, back to Andrew's chest, and Andrew shimmied closer so his stomach pressed into Jet's back.
"I'm so lucky to have you," Andrew murmured, after a few moments of silence, as he wrapped his arm around Jet's chest and squeezed at one of his pecs. "Coulda fucked it up so many ways."
"You'd have always tried to fix it after," Jet said. "I knew you would. I know you still will. That's how we stick together."
"Yeah," Andrew murmured. "You're right. Just gotta be brave."
"You take my cock every other night and you'll stay plenty brave," Jet said, with a grin. "Alright, I'm satisfied. Turn around, baby, and we'll spoon right."
Andrew waited for Jet to turn around first and gave him one more chaste kiss, lips staying in Jet's lips and suckling softly as Drew ran a hand up Jet's back and neck and into his ginger locks. "You're so beautiful, Jet," he murmured.
"So are you, Andrew. I'm lucky to have you," Jet echoed, and they both smiled. And, at last, Andrew turned around, snuggling his back up into Jet's chest and stomach. Jet's soft-but-massive cock nestled comfortably between their legs, and then his arm slipped around Andrew's side and cradled his stomach, caressing it softly, rubbing it until bliss trickled up Andrew's spine and entered his mind like clouds floated into the sky.
A short while later, Jet was breathing softly, chest heaving gently, pressing into Andrew's back as he mused about his night. His old life really was falling away from his memories, stories from the old blending with the new as the Author sorted out the new timeline his wishes had created. But it was for the better. He was braver, now. And he wasn't alone.
More than that. He was with Jet, Jet in particular, Jet who all along he had been meant to kiss and hold and fuck like rabbits. Thank you, Ash.
Thank you, Andrew, for being you, came the voice of the angel who had made all this possible. But perhaps Ash was right. Andrew had started the night brave enough to change his life. Whether he did that in the present or in the past, he had done it. He just needed the nudge. And, to be fair, a lot of help.
Tonight was a new beginning. A better Andrew, a better Jet, a better life. And, for once, he was sure that he could make it stick. He'd gotten far enough to marry the man—what was stopping him from keeping on?
Jet shifted and then snorted in his sleep, hand sliding up Andrew's stomach and curling around his chest, squeezing him in close. Nothing. Nothing was stopping him. Nothing would stop them, ever again. Andrew would make sure of it.