Does Rick still spanks and wedgies Jerry?
I need some excitement I've been board.
sorry anon I'm 100% anti-rick bullying jerry 😌✌️ /its just not my cup of tea.
have this awkward jerrick instead tho
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on the rocks posting day is tomorrow!
let’s have one last snippet in honour of the thirty-eight (38!!!!) asks i got from people playing the wordsearch game!!
“That this is as good as it gets for me.”
The moment it leaves him, he wishes he’d never let the words out. But it’s just hanging there, in the air between him and Porsche, and suddenly, Tay has to explain himself. He has to make it less-damning, somehow.
“I’m not—trying to make you tell me nice things about myself,” Tay says. “It’s not—I know I have things to offer. But I don’t think—those things don’t matter, when no-one wants them. I could—I get hit on, when I go out. People want to fuck me. I’m this—gender-fuck fantasy. Someone you play around with for fun. But no-one wants—no-one wants to keep me.”
Porsche has gone silent. Tay can’t handle looking at him.
“So that’s why. That’s why I don’t leave him, because this is—this is all I can get. And I—I’d rather swallow all the—injustices, all the—humiliation, than leave him and realise that—”
There’s a hollow quality to Porsche’s voice. “That no-one else wants you.”
Tay looks at the empty shot glass on the bar, and at the half-empty bottle of rum, and then at Porsche, who looks—stricken. Like Tay’s wrecked him as much as he’s wrecked Tay.
“Yeah,” Tay says.
Porsche exhales roughly. “Fuck.” He places a fresh shot glass on the counter, fills it with rum, and then throws it back.
Tay watches the movement of his throat as he swallows. It’s—well, Porsche is fucking hot, is what it is. And he swallows like a pro.
It feels—wrong, a little, to be entertaining these kinds of thoughts after spilling all his most private, most fucked-up needy shit.
Tay looks away. “I thought—don’t you have to drive?”
Porsche wipes his mouth. “I’ll get a cab.” He places the shot glass directly into a sink behind the bar. He exhales. “For the record,” he says, after a beat, “I think you’re wrong. You’re good looking. You’re well-spoken. You’re—clean. You wash. I don’t know anything about—gay guys, and being—” He gestures loosely at Tay.
“Girly,” Tay says.
“Pretty,” Porsche corrects. His face looks a little—flushed, probably from the alcohol. “I don’t know what it’s like, but—personally, if it were me, I’d lock you down hard, if we were dating.”
Tay wants to kiss him.
The strength of the desire takes him off-guard. He’s used to seeing attractive people, to feeling that flare in his gut, and ignoring it. He’s monogamous to a fault. When he’s in a relationship, he doesn’t want other people. Maybe he has fun looking, but he doesn’t—
It’s never anything more than that.
But he wants Porsche. He wants Porsche bad.
Fuck.
Porsche meets his eye. There’s a charged moment, suspended between them. For a second, Tay thinks that’s all it’s going to be – another potentiality left hanging, another road not taken – but then Porsche leans in.
His fingers are gentle on Tay’s cheek. “Eyelash.”
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