The Gay Gh0stwriter - Static - Chapter Sixteen

All characters engaged in sexual activity are 18 or older.

Eleven o'clock. My room.

I barely recognized the place. Cory had spent the entire afternoon in a cleaning frenzy. Vacuuming, scrubbing, reorganizing. The weird smell had been identified. Some of the microwaved pasta had found its way under his dresser. The laundry was not just in the closet but actually folded. He'd even lit a candle.

"A candle." I looked around. "You bought a candle."

"It's called ambiance, Theo."

"It smells like a Bath and Body Works exploded in here."

"Mahogany Teakwood." He crossed his arms. "I thought you gay guys appreciated this kind of shit."

He had clearly spent way too long picking out his outfit. Changed at least three times based on the pile of rejected shirts on his bed, which he'd hastily tossed in the closet when I walked in.

Megan arrived first, armed with two bottles of wine and a bag of chips. She took one look around the room and smiled. Cory was standing there like he was waiting for inspection.

"This is nice. Cozy."

Cory relaxed a bit.

Beckett showed up a few minutes later. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, taking it in. The candle, Cory's nervous energy, Megan already making herself comfortable.

He smiled at Cory. "Mahogany Teakwood. Nice choice."

Cory shot me a look. "Thank you Beckett."

We settled in. Megan in my desk chair, Cory perched on the edge of his bed, Beckett and me on mine. Wine in plastic cups. Chips making their way around the room. It was awkward at first. Cory kept starting sentences and then stopping, Megan kept catching my eye with barely concealed amusement. But eventually the wine loosened everyone up.

Megan asked Cory about his major. He asked her about hers. She told a story about a nightmare group project. He laughed at the right parts. At some point, I realized they'd been talking for twenty minutes and Beckett and I had just been watching, and I thought, huh. Maybe this could actually work.

Then Megan turned to me. The room got quieter.

"So. Let's talk about you."

"Let's not."

"Too late." She tucked her feet under her. "Beck's my best friend. You know that, right?"

I nodded.

"He called me that night. After the... incident." She glanced at Beckett, then back at me. "He was a mess."

The warmth faded. Beckett was looking at his cup, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"I know." Quiet. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not looking for an apology." She held my gaze. "I just need to know you're not going to do that to him again."

"I won't."

"Good." She studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "I believe you."

"Just like that?"

"You have a trustworthy face." She grinned. "Plus, Beck's been gushing about you for weeks. If he's willing to give you another chance, who am I to argue?"

"Megan." Beckett's voice was strained.

"What? It's true."

"You can't just..."

"You literally called me last night and gushed about him for forty-five minutes. You're not subtle."

Beckett's face was red. I was trying very hard not to smile.

"Is that true?"

Beckett was looking at Megan like he wanted to clamp his hand over her mouth. He took a long drink of wine, not meeting my eyes.

"Beck."

He set down his cup. Looked at me. Those dark eyes, that guarded expression cracking at the edges.

"Yeah." Quiet. "It's true."

I didn't know what to say. Beckett was picking at a thread on my comforter, still not quite looking at me.

"I want you back too. In case that wasn't clear."

"It was pretty clear."

"Just making sure."

A chip hit me in the side of the head.

"Okay." Megan brushed her hands together. "Enough. You're giving me a cavity over here."

Cory snorted. Beckett's mouth twitched. I threw the chip back at her and missed by a mile.

The conversation drifted after that. Lighter, easier. More wine. More stories. Cory gradually relaxed, and I watched him and Megan settle into something that looked almost like flirting. She kept finding excuses to touch his arm. He kept making her laugh. At some point, Beckett's hand found mine. I didn't let go.

Around one-thirty, I checked my phone.

"Shit. I have to go. The show."

Megan looked at Beckett. "Are you going to walk him?"

"Obviously."

"Good." She turned to me. "Go. Do your radio thing. We'll be fine here."

I looked at Cory. He was already looking at me, eyes wide, silently communicating something between panic and excitement.

"You good?"

He nodded. "I'm good. Go."

I stood up, pulled Beckett to his feet. At the door, I glanced back. Megan had already moved to sit on Cory's bed, cross-legged, saying something that made him laugh.

They were going to be fine.

Beckett and I slipped out into the hallway, leaving them alone.

The campus was dark. Quiet. That late-night hush that made everything feel secret, separate from the rest of the world. The air was cold and damp, threatening rain that hadn't quite arrived yet. Our breath fogged in front of us.

Beckett's hand found mine again. I threaded our fingers together.

We didn't talk. Didn't need to. Just walked, side by side, through the darkness.

The communications building was dark, most of the windows black. We stopped at the side door. The one that led down to the basement, to the booth.

The place where everything had started.

We stopped outside.

"This is me."

"I know."

He was looking at me. That intense look.

"Thank you. For today. For giving me another chance."

"Thank you for earning it."

He stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, could smell him. Wine mixed with the usual coffee and solder.

"Come over after your show."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He kissed me.

Soft. Slow. His hand coming up to cup my jaw, his lips warm against mine. I melted into it, all the fear and the guilt and the loneliness dissolving until there was nothing left but this. His mouth, his hands.

When he pulled back, his eyes were bright.

"I'll be listening."

"I know."

One more kiss, quick, almost shy, and then he stepped back.

"Talk to you in a bit, Sonder."

"Talk to you in a bit, Jake."

I watched him walk away until he disappeared into the darkness. Then I turned, opened the door, and went down to the booth.

The ON AIR light flickered on.

I had a show to do.

The phone line lit up at 2:17.

I was mid-sentence, a corny line about accepting yourself as you are, and cut myself off. "Hold that thought. We've got a caller." Queued up a track, took myself off air, picked up. "K-West."

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." I leaned back in the chair. "Couldn't wait until I got there?"

"No."

"Miss me already?"

"Shut up." But I could tell he was smiling. "How's the show?"

"Boring without you." I spun the chair, let the cord wrap around me. "What are you doing?"

"Lying in bed."

"Yeah?" The leather creaked under me.

"Thinking."

"About?"

"You know what about."

I did. My dick had been half-hard since he kissed me outside the station. "Tell me anyway."

He was quiet for a second. I could hear him breathing, hear the shift of sheets like he was getting comfortable. "I keep thinking about earlier. The way you looked at me. The way you..." He stopped. "Fuck. This is stupid."

"It's not stupid."

"I'm lying here like some horny teenager waiting for you to get off work."

"You are a horny teenager."

"I turn nineteen next month."

"Still counts." I checked the track timer. Ninety seconds. My hand dropped to my lap, pressing against the bulge in my jeans without really meaning to. "What are you wearing?"

"Seriously?"

"I want to know."

"T-shirt. Boxers." A pause. "That's it."

"Which boxers?"

"The grey ones. Why does it matter?"

"I like the grey ones." I was fully pressing against myself now, the friction not enough but better than nothing.

"You like all my boxers."

"I like what's in them."

He laughed. Low, a little breathless. "You're an idiot."

"You like it."

"Unfortunately." I heard him shift, bedsprings creaking. When he spoke again his voice was lower. "How much longer?"

"Hour and a half."

"That's too long."

"I know." I was squeezing myself through my jeans now, not even trying to hide it from myself.

"I want you here."

"I know."

The track was winding down. Forty-five seconds.

"I've been hard since you left." Quieter now. "I keep thinking about what I want you to do when you get here."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want..." He exhaled. "I want you to fuck me."

"Beck."

"I've been thinking about it. About feeling you inside me. About... fuck, I don't know how to say this without sounding like porn."

"You're doing fine."

"I want you to fuck me. I want you to be the first inside me."

I was fully hard now, straining against my jeans. The track ended. Dead air. Shit.

"I have to go back on."

"I know."

"You're evil. You know that, right?"

He laughed softly. "Consider it motivation to wrap up fast."

I switched back to air. Took a breath. "That was, uh..." My voice came out rough. "That was Phoebe Bridgers. 'Motion Sickness.' It's 2:23 and you're listening to K-West." I cleared my throat. "We've got Jake on the line. Jake's a regular. Say hi, Jake."

"Hi." He was definitely smiling now. Asshole.

"Jake can't sleep."

"Chronic problem."

I shifted in my seat, trying to find a position that didn't make my erection obvious even though no one could see me. "What's keeping you up tonight?"

"Waiting for someone."

"Anyone good?"

"Jury's still out."

I was grinning despite the uncomfortable pressure in my jeans.

"Does he know you're kidding?"

"He'd better."

We went back and forth for another hour. On and off air. The public version and the private one. I checked my phone between songs. Cory had been blowing it up since I left, a string of all-caps texts about how Megan was still there, how they'd been talking for hours, how he was pretty sure he was going to marry her. I read a few to Beckett. He laughed so hard he snorted.

At 3:45 I started wrapping up.

"Last song. For everyone who stayed up. For everyone waiting." I paused. "Jake. I'm on my way."

Signed off. Queued the overnight playlist. Grabbed my hoodie.

"Door's unlocked."

"See you in ten."

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurry."

I hung up. My hands were shaking.

The booth door opened onto darkness. I took the stairs two at a time.

The rain was light. More mist than anything. The paths glistened under the streetlights. The trees dripped. The air smelled like wet earth and pine and the faint metallic tang of coming winter.

I walked fast. Not quite running, but close. Past the library, past the student union, past the dark windows of buildings that wouldn't wake up for hours. My breath fogged in front of me. My heart was pounding.

Harmon loomed ahead. That ugly brick building I'd walked to a hundred times now. The lobby was empty, the fluorescent lights humming their usual tuneless song. I took the stairs instead of the elevator. Third floor. His floor.

His door.

I stopped. The same door I'd stood outside so many times. Nervous, excited, terrified. But this felt different.

I tried the handle. Unlocked, like he'd promised.

I pushed the door open.

Beckett was sitting up in bed, phone still in his hand. T-shirt and boxers. Messy hair. The lamp on his nightstand casting everything gold.

He set down the phone. I crossed the room. His hands grabbed my hoodie and pulled me down onto the bed before I could say anything.

The door swung shut behind me. His mouth was on mine, hungry, desperate. He tasted like toothpaste and wine. His hands were already under my hoodie, under my shirt, fingers cold against my skin.

"Took you long enough." Against my lips.

"I literally ran."

"Should've run faster."

I laughed into the kiss. Pulled back just enough to yank my hoodie and shirt off together, tossing them somewhere on the floor. He did the same, his shirt gone in one motion, and then we were pressed together, skin to skin.

I'd seen him shirtless before. Mornings after sleepovers, changing in his room. But this was different. Now I let myself look. Pale skin, freckles across his shoulders, the thin line of dark hair I loved to trace with my finger.

"Stop staring."

"Can't help it."

"Yes you can."

"Don't want to."

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. I kissed him again and pushed him back onto the mattress.

The ancient radio on the nightstand was glowing 4:07. His bed was warm where he'd been lying, waiting.

"You meant it? What you said on the phone."

"Yeah."

"You want me to...?"

"Theo." He looked at me. No hesitation. "I want you to fuck me. I've been thinking about it for weeks. I want to know what it feels like. I want..." He swallowed. "I want you to be the first person inside me."

My dick, already hard, twitched in my jeans.

"Okay. Yeah."

"Articulate."

"Shut up. I'm processing."

He grinned. Then his hand was on my belt, fumbling with the buckle. I helped. Kicked off my jeans, then my boxers. His eyes dropped to my cock, hard and leaking, and he licked his lips.

"Lie back."

He did. I hooked my fingers in his boxers and pulled them down.

His cock sprang free. Hard, curved toward his stomach. The foreskin pulled back to reveal the wet head. I ran my fingers through the dark hair at the base. I wrapped my hand around him and he gasped.

"I want to taste you first."

"You don't have to..."

"I want to."

I leaned down and took him in my mouth.

He moaned. His hand found my hair, gripping tight. The taste of him flooded my tongue. Precum, slightly bitter, slightly sweet. I took him deeper, the head nudging the back of my throat. His thighs trembled on either side of my head, the muscles tensing. I could feel him fighting not to thrust, trying to hold still, trying to be good.

I pulled off with a wet sound. Licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, tracing the thick vein that ran along the length of him. He whimpered.

"Turn over." My voice came out ragged.

He looked at me. Eyes dark, full of passion. Then he rolled onto his stomach.

I took a moment just to look. His back, pale and smooth, the knobs of his spine visible under the skin. The muscles shifting when he breathed. The dimples at the base of his spine. Two small indentations that I wanted to press my thumbs into. And his ass. Round, firm, the cheeks slightly parted from his position. He had fine hair there, soft and dark, more of it in the cleft where the skin was pinker, more sensitive.

I put my hands on him. Felt the firm muscle under smooth skin. Spread him open.

He tensed. "Theo..."

"I'll be careful."

I leaned in. The smell here was stronger. Musk and skin and sweat. Clean but human. I ran my tongue over his hole.

He cried out. His whole body jerked, his hips bucking involuntarily. I held him still, one hand on each cheek, keeping him spread, and did it again. Licking, teasing, tasting. He was clean, a little musky, the skin there soft and wrinkled and so sensitive that every touch made him shake. I felt him slowly relax under my mouth, his body opening up to me, the tight ring of muscle loosening.

"Oh fuck, that's..."

I pressed my tongue inside him. He moaned into the pillow.

I worked him open like that for a while. Tongue and lips and the occasional scrape of teeth that made him shudder and curse into the pillow. By the time I pulled back, he was shaking, his ass wet with spit, his hole pink and glistening and slightly loosened. His hips were grinding against the mattress, wanting more, and I could see his balls drawn up tight between his thighs.

I reached over, found the lube and condoms in the desk drawer.

"Just the lube."

I froze for a second. His eyes met mine and I understood what he was saying.

"You sure?"

He nodded. I slicked up my fingers and pressed one against his hole. The muscle fluttered against my fingertip.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

I pushed inside.

He was tight. So fucking tight it made my breath catch. And hot. Hotter than I expected, his body gripping my finger like a silk fist, the walls soft and textured. I worked him slowly, in and out, feeling the resistance ease as his body adjusted. The lube squelched obscenely with each movement.

"More." His voice was muffled by the pillow.

I added a second finger. He groaned. A deep, guttural sound that went straight to my cock. I could see him clutching the pillow, his knuckles white, his shoulder blades shifting under his skin as he braced himself.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Don't stop."

I fucked him with my fingers. Spread them apart, feeling his body stretch around me, the tight ring of muscle slowly giving way. I curled them, searching, and when I found that spot, that slightly firmer patch inside him, he cried out and bucked against the mattress. His cock was leaking onto the sheets, a wet spot spreading beneath him, and I could smell his arousal now. Sharp and musky, mixing with the sweat that was starting to bead on his back.

"Theo." His voice was ragged. "Please. I'm ready. I need you inside me."

"I know." I pulled my fingers out, watching his hole clench. "I know, baby."

The word slipped out before I could stop it. Baby. I'd never called him that before. But he made a sound, soft, almost wounded, and I knew it was okay.

My cock was so hard it hurt, curved up against my stomach, the head coated with precum. I was thicker than him, cut, the head swollen and angry-looking. I stroked myself a few times, spreading the lube, watching him watch me over his shoulder.

"Turn over." I pulled back, wiping my mouth. "I want to see you."

He rolled onto his back. His face was flushed, his hair a mess against the pillow, his chest heaving with each breath. Sweat glistened in the hollow of his throat, in the dip of his collarbones. His cock lay against his stomach, hard and leaking, twitching every time he breathed. His legs fell open, exposing his hole. Pink and slick and slightly loosened from my fingers.

He looked beautiful. Shaking, desperate, flushed from his cheeks to his chest.

I settled between his legs. The insides of his thighs were soft, almost hairless, and I ran my hands up them, feeling the muscles tremble under my palms. I hooked my hands under his knees and pushed them up toward his chest, folding him in half, exposing him completely.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

I pressed the head of my cock against his hole. Felt him tense, the muscle clenching involuntarily, then deliberately relax.

I pushed.

The head popped past the ring of muscle and we both groaned. The heat of him engulfed me. Tight and slick and impossibly good. I could feel everything. Every ridge, every flutter, the way his body gripped me like it never wanted to let go.

"Fuck, you're..."

"Just breathe."

I held still. Let him adjust. His face was twisted. His hands found my shoulders, gripping hard enough to bruise, his nails digging into my skin.

"More. Please. I want all of you."

I pushed deeper. Inch by inch, watching his face, feeling him open up around me. The drag of his insides against my cock was incredible. His body accepted me slowly, the tight channel stretching to fit my girth.

When I was all the way inside, my hips pressed against his ass, my balls resting against his skin, I stopped. Just lay there, buried in him, feeling everything. The heat. The pressure. The way his body pulsed around me.

"Theo." Barely a whisper. "I can feel you. I can feel..."

"I know." I thought back to what it felt like when he was inside me.

"Fuck. It's so much. You're so deep."

I leaned down. Kissed him, swallowing his moans. We stayed like that for a long moment. Mouths moving together, bodies connected, the sweat gathering between us.

"Can I fuck you?"

"Yes."

I pulled back slowly. Felt every inch of him dragging against my cock, the friction almost unbearable. Then I pushed back in. He moaned, his head falling back against the pillow, exposing the pale line of his throat, the Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. I did it again. Out, in, finding a rhythm. Slow at first. Letting us both get used to it.

The sounds filled the room. The wet sound of lube. The creak of the bed frame. Our breathing, ragged and desperate. The soft slap of skin against skin as I bottomed out with each thrust.

Without a condom, I could feel everything. The texture of him. Ridges and folds and that smooth patch inside him that made him gasp when I dragged across it. The way his body gripped me when I pulled out, like it didn't want to let me go. The slick heat of his insides. Nothing between us but sweat and trust.

"Faster." He gripped my back. "I can take it."

I sped up. Let myself go a little. The bed creaked louder, the headboard tapping against the wall in a steady rhythm. His body moved with mine, hips rising to meet each thrust, hands clutching at my back. I could feel his nails leaving scratches, could feel the sting of it, and it only made me want more.

"You feel so fucking good. So tight. So hot."

"Theo..."

"Fuck, Beck." I couldn't stop the words. "I want to get deeper in you."

He was making sounds. Low, desperate noises that went straight to my balls. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open, sweat beading on his forehead and running down his temples. The flush had spread from his face down his neck, across his chest. His nipples were hard, and I leaned down and took one in my mouth.

He cried out. His back arched off the bed, pushing his chest into my face. I sucked hard, scraped my teeth across the sensitive nub, and felt his whole body clench around me. I moved my mouth higher, into his armpit, and licked. Salt flooded my tongue. His sweat, the concentrated taste of him. He moaned and grabbed the back of my head, holding me there.

I changed the angle, searching, and when I found it, that spot inside him, the one that made his body light up...

He cried out. His whole body arched off the bed, his cock jerking against his stomach.

"There. Right there, don't stop..."

I didn't stop. Hit that spot over and over, angling my hips to drag across it with every thrust. Watching him fall apart beneath me. His cock was leaking steadily now, untouched, leaving streaks of precum across his stomach. The head was swollen and purple, the foreskin pulled back, a bead of clear fluid welling at the slit. I wrapped my hand around him and stroked in time with my thrusts.

He sobbed. A broken sound. His hands scrambled at my back, my shoulders, my arms, grabbing anything he could reach. His legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my ass, pulling me deeper.

"I'm not gonna last." The pressure was building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight. "You feel too good. I'm..."

"Inside me." His eyes opened, found mine. Dark, desperate, certain. "I want you to come inside me."

"Beck..."

"Please. I want to feel it. I want..." He broke off, moaning as I thrust particularly deep, hitting that spot again. "Fill me up. Please."

I fucked him harder. Faster. The bed was slamming against the wall now, a steady bang-bang-bang that probably woke up everyone on the floor. I didn't care. Couldn't care. Let go of everything. Just chased the pleasure building at the base of my spine, spiraling higher with every thrust, every clench of his body around me.

His cock was jumping in my hand, precum streaming out in a constant flow. I could feel his balls drawing up against my fingers, feel the tension building in his body, the way his walls were starting to flutter and clench.

"I'm close. I'm so close..."

"Me too. Don't stop. Don't..."

His body clenched around me like a vise. I felt him come. His cock pulsing in my hand, the first shot hitting his chin, the rest painting his chest and stomach in thick white ropes. The smell of it hit me. Sharp, musky, perfect. His hole spasmed around my cock, milking me, squeezing me, and the sight of him, sweaty, flushed, covered in his own cum, pushed me over the edge.

I came with a moan so loud it was practically a shout. Buried myself as deep as I could go and let it happen. Pulse after pulse, flooding him, filling him with everything I had. I could feel my cock jerking inside him, feel the wet heat of my own cum surrounding me. His body milked me through it, needy, drawing out every last drop.

When it was over, I collapsed.

My weight pressed him into the mattress. I was still inside him, softening slowly. His arms wrapped around me. His breath was hot against my neck.

"Holy shit."

I laughed. Breathless, shaky. "Yeah."

"That was..."

"Perfect."

We lay there for a long time. Just breathing. Just being.

Eventually I pulled out. He winced. I grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and cleaned us both up. His stomach, his chest, the mess between his legs where my cum was starting to leak out of him.

"Sorry. That's..."

"I like it." He was blushing, but his voice was steady. "I can still feel you inside me."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I just kissed him.

We rearranged ourselves under the covers. His head on my chest, his arm across my waist, our legs tangled together. The radiator clicked. The rain tapped against the window. Outside, the world was still dark, still quiet, still hours away from waking up.

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

The words settled into me.

"I love you too. I've loved you since before I met you."

He laughed softly. "That doesn't make sense."

"I know. But it's true."

His arm tightened around me. I felt his smile against my chest.

We were quiet for a while. The lamp was still on, casting its gold light across the room. His posters. His books. The ancient radio on the nightstand, still glowing red. This room I'd come to know so well. This bed that felt like home now.

"Hey. Can I ask you something?" His voice was soft against me.

"Anything."

"Say your signoff." His expression was almost shy. "The one from the show."

"What?"

"Your signoff. The thing you say at the end. In your Sonder voice."

I blinked at him. "You want me to...?"

"Yeah." He reached over and flipped off the lamp. The room went dark. Not pitch black, but close. Just the faint glow of the radio and the distant light from the window. "Just like this. Like we're back there. In the booth. Just you and me and the static."

He'd fallen in love with Sonder first. The voice in the dark. The late-night confessions. That was where we started. Before faces, before names, before any of this was real.

And now, lying here in the dark with him, he wanted that version of me too. Not instead of Theo. Alongside him.

All of me. Every part.

I pulled him closer. Let my voice drop into that register. The 2am voice, the soft one, the one I only used when I was talking to the void.

"I'm Sonder, you've been listening to K-West, and I hope you get some sleep. I hope we all get some sleep." I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "And to whoever's listening, you're not alone. You never were. Goodnight."

Silence. Just our breathing. Just the static of the rain.

"Goodnight, Sonder."

I smiled into the darkness.

"Goodnight, Jake."

His arm tightened around me. His breath slowed. I felt his body go heavy against mine as sleep pulled him under.

I stayed awake a little longer. Listening to the rain. Feeling his heartbeat against my ribs.

We'd figured it out. Not perfectly. Not easily. But we'd gotten there. Through the lies and the fear and the stupid, self-imposed walls I'd built around myself.

He knew me now. All of me. The 2am voice and the daylight goofball. The guy who panicked and the guy who finally learned not to run.

And he loved me anyway.

I closed my eyes. Let the darkness take me.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, the silence didn't feel empty.

It felt like home.