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“Oh man,” Max suddenly exclaims in a specific way that demands attention.
Jordan’s head turns away from the contents of his fridge to get eyes on the man lounging on his couch. Max is on his back, head on the armrest. He’s staring at his phone, a slight grin on his face. Jordan waits a bit to see if he will explain his outburst without having to be prompted, but Max just looks up at him and smiles wider.
Before knowing anything, Jordan is smiling too. “Dude, what?”
Max sighs and shakes his head, looking back at his phone. “Man.”
“What?”
“Bro…”
Jordan scoffs and finishes retrieving a case of mango cutwater out of the fridge. He closes it, turns around, sets it on the island as he fingers the seam of the cardboard to pull it open. As he’s taking the chilled cans out, Max is chuckling to himself.
“So you’re not gonna tell me what it is?”
He approaches with a drink in each hand, holding out the one in his left to Max. As he reaches up though, Jordan pulls the drink back slightly, causing brown eyes to cut up to him in amusement. Jordan tilts his head. That’s all it takes, it seems.
“I was just watching edits I was tagged in. One of the comments was asking who’s top.”
Max casually takes the drink as Jordan digests the statement.
“Between us?” he asks.
Max nods, sitting up just a bit to put his phone down and crack open his drink. Jordan turns and sits on the open portion of the couch, doing the same, certain that he needs at least a few swigs before he engages with this conversation.
“It’s definitely me,” he sighs nonchalantly.
Max wears an incredulous expression as he sits up even more. “What?”
Jordan smirks, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “What?”
“You think you’d top me?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
Max laughs, his face getting ever so slightly pink. “Absolutely not. Boy, look at you. This is coming from Mr. ‘Rate the Bounce’ himself.”
“Oh my god, that doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means everything you fucking twink,” Max raises to a full upright seat, careful with his drink, but his phone falls onto the floor. He starts listing things, using his fingers to mark them off. “First off, you’re smaller than me. Second, you’re shy and meek. Third, you’re literally a femboy–remove your facial hair and put some makeup on you and put you in a skirt and you’re the goddamn femboy queen. Or king. Whatever the hell.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought about that before.”
“That’s actually the first thing that pops into everyone’s head when they look at you.”
“Sure.”
“You got them blue eyes. The luscious curls. The–the–the uhh…”
“...Yeah?”
Max throws a hand up. “That’s my proof.”
“That’s it?”
With a nod, Max picks his phone up off the floor, looking at Jordan like he’s fully valid with everything he just said. But there’s still a spark in his eyes that demands an argument.
“Dude, yes. And I’m not saying you could never be a top, but boy you wouldn’t be a top with me.”
Jordan pauses from taking another sip to laugh over the top of his can. In the corner of his eye, Max is shrugging before tipping his drink towards his mouth. Jordan watches his adam’s apple bob. He waits until Max is done before carrying on.
“So, you think I’m pretty–”
“Bitch, you know you’re pretty–”
“You think because I’m pretty and shorter than you and because you wanna see me in a skirt I can’t top you? I’d top you while I’m wearing it.”
Max blinks at him, two free fingers that aren’t needed to hold his drink coming up to cover his smile ever so slightly.
“Also, yeah,” Jordan continues. “Maybe you don’t have an ounce of social anxiety in your body, but when we’re alone together? Not even the camera around? You know I can handle that.”
“I– But that doesn’t mean that–”
“Like, have you heard yourself?”
“The fuck?”
“Have you seen yourself? Really, if I only needed one reason to be top, it’s because you have a really nice ass.”
“...”
“So, it’d be a waste, wouldn’t it?”
Max is full on blushing now, that adorable smile of his permanently on his face. He leans against the back of the couch with laughter, phone dropping again. Jordan finds himself watching intently, his heart thudding in his chest. They’re just joking around. The same way they joke about anything sexual between them. But it feels different when it’s just the two of them. Undeniably so when his heart races like this.
It’s not unreasonable though. Jordan has been secretly crushing on the brunet for months now. Just something he’s been trying to deal with on his own time.
Watching him laugh, especially when he’s the cause of it, is always hard for Jordan to tear his eyes away from.
“Dude,” Max laughs, “Are you deadass?”
“I’m so serious.”
“Okay. Thanks??? But your body’s nice too.”
And his eyes wander down for a few seconds. Over Jordan’s neck, arms, and waist.
Jordan takes a breath. “I know it’s nice…but you…”
Max stares at him in blatant anticipation, giving Jordan a look that could be read as innocent, but in those brown eyes he can see a burning desire for some sort of praise. Go on, it pleads. Jordan shakes his head.
“...You know how I feel about it…”
Max balks at his words. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Like, I know how you feel about my face. You’re always fucking glazing it, but…”
“Well, it’d be kinda gay of me to go around telling you that I love your body.”
“Oh, but it’s not gay to think about it? And to take every opportunity presented to you to remind me you like my face?”
Jordan chuckles. “Nope.”
There’s a beat of silence where all they can do is stare each other down. Despite the confidence and control Jordan is feeling, holding Max’s brown eyed gaze proves to be difficult. Like all the power in this situation actually belongs to him. Jordan is only saying this stupid shit because of that look.
“Okay,” Max finally says. “Still not a good argument for why you’d top.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I think everyone can agree that you’re the more flexible one,” Jordan points out simply. For a split second, Max’s eyes avert.
“The hell kinda position are you tryna put me in?”
“Missionary,” Jordan answers too quickly, turning away for the first time in a minute to distract himself with his drink.
After a beat, Max starts laughing again, but he can’t hide how it’s not purely out of humor.
“So this is something you’ve thought about.”
“Hey, you asked a question. I just answered it.”
“Yeah, and with extreme haste. Fucking missionary?”
“Well…” Jordan trails off, actually taking a moment to wonder if he should finish his sentence. Instinct is telling him to shut the fuck up and move on from the conversation. Everything else is telling him to stop being a pussy and full send it.
“Well what?” Max questions.
“More accurately a mating press.”
Part of him immediately regrets saying that, a hot flash taking over his body. But the other part is extremely pleased with the way Max covers his own face and groans into his hands, flustered.
“No way. No way.” He peeks through his fingers. “You’re not serious, Jordan.”
Jordan shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “You’d totally be able to pull it off.”
“I…” Max takes several deep breaths, visibly trying to compose himself. “I took you for more of a face down, ass up kinda guy.”
“Nah. I mean, it’s not bad, but I’d wanna see your face.”
“...Right. Right, because you… Because you like my face.”
Jordan nods, pointer finger raising off his can in agreement before he takes another sip. They fall into another wave of silence that Max seems to squirm within. He shifts around on his end of the couch, raking his fingers through his hair and occasionally giggling with disbelief.
“So…” Jordan speaks up. “Do you accept that defeat or what?”
Max’s eyes flicker about Jordan’s face, clearly thinking hard. His brows furrow with a slight quirk of his lips.
“Is this a bit? You’re just saying these things to win the argument.”
Jordan could lie. Save his own ass. But something about this is like working his thumb into a sore muscle. Painfully satisfying.
“No, it’s not a bit. What would be the point of that?”
Another held gaze. Jordan could crush his can if he wanted to.
“...Top and dom aren’t equivalent, so even if you fucked me, I’d still be dominating your ass. Easy.”
Jordan’s eyebrows raise, not expecting Max to go there. The other points at him as if he’s caught him, putting on his stupid measley voice.
“Chain your freaky ass to the bed and ride you till you’re fuckin’ crying. Mhm. Yup.”
Jordan can’t help but snort and they both dissolve into a laughing fit. It chips at the tension in the air a bit, shaking some of Jordan’s anxiety off his shoulders.
“No way, dude,” Jordan provides once they’ve died down. “Maybe on special occasions.”
Max licks his lips in a way that’s most likely not even on purpose.
“No. That’s just how it’d be.”
“You’re straight up lying to yourself. Don’t pretend like you don’t like when I take care of things...”
“If anything, it’s maternal. I’m not…pretending.”
Okay, the way he blinks just now, kind of batting his lashes, can’t be a mistake. Jordan can’t suppress his grin, squinting at the other. He has a feeling.
“Show me that comment, Max.”
“...What?”
“Show me the comment that was wondering who’d top between us.”
“No,” he chuckles. Nervously. He watches like a hawk as Jordan puts his drink down on the table.
“Lemme see it.”
“Why? No.”
Jordan slowly starts to shift towards him.
“Show it to me or I’m gonna have to assume you made it up to start some shit.”
Max slowly begins to shift backwards.
“I didn’t make it up! I already scrolled past it.”
“Scroll back up.”
“I closed the app.”
“It’s in your watch history.”
“I don’t have that shit turned on.”
"..."
"..."
“Oh, you’re so fucked. C’mere.”