The following days passed in a flurry of work and sex.
On Tuesday, Graham did his best to ignore the clock, barely resisting the urge to groan each time he looked up and discovered how little time had passed. He was still a professional, after all, with a full schedule and full plate of responsibilities. He spent much of the day leading a fruitful conversation about data structure and demoing an inspections module for the grounds team to adopt as a new workflow. The client was visibly impressed and openly appreciative, a decent consolation for the fact Graham was dying on the inside.
That night, Archie was in his room at 10:00 sharp. Their clothes were on the floor by 10:02. Graham's dick was in Archie's mouth by 10:05.
Wednesday was the same. Graham buried his phone in his backpack, knowing he’d be helplessly checking for messages instead of focusing on his job, and when he finally did break for coffee and again for lunch, seeing those new messages from Archie sent a wave of excitement through him. He knew he was acting giddy, goofy, smitten like a schoolgirl, but he really didn't care. He enjoyed it too much to stop.
At night, the energy between them was relaxed and playful. They cracked smiles and stifled laughs, growing more comfortable with one another, trading an ounce of their animalistic passion for a newfound sense of fun. Not that it wasn't as mind-blowing as that first time; Graham still saw stars by the time they finished each new round together, still needed a moment to compose himself after each new orgasm left him limp as a ragdoll. Archie had been right about one thing – there were a lot of possibilities to be found with two hands and a mouth, and they explored as many of these as they could.
Archie was never short of suggestions – he lay backwards on the mattress, his head hanging off the edge of the bed, stroking himself while Graham shoved his cock down Archie's throat; he sat in the corner accent chair, his legs pulled up on the armrests while Graham eagerly sucked him off; they sprawled across the bed, groins to mouths, devouring each other while their hands roamed and groped greedily.
Graham used this time to familiarize himself with Archie's body, examining each inch of him at close range. He kissed Archie’s collar bone and the triangle of smooth skin where his silver chain fell in the center of his chest. He tasted Archie's nipples with his tongue, licking them and sucking them and holding them beneath his teeth. He loved to watch them change shape, to harden before his eyes while goosebumps broke out across Archie's skin. He explored Archie's hairy legs and the pale, smooth skin of his hips, his chest burning with pride when Archie shuddered at his kisses. He memorized Archie's cock, his pubes, his balls; he snuck glimpses at the space between his thighs, curious and uncertain, intrigued by this intimate, forbidden area, this final frontier.
And all this time, Graham waited for some internal conflict to arise, for some feeling of discomfort to bubble up inside him and make him question or reconsider everything. Rationally, he knew this was all insane. He knew that an intense, sexual affair with a twenty-three-year-old stranger was about as on-brand for Graham as deciding to be a professional football player or going to outer space. And yet, these conflicted feelings never came. The biggest surprise of all was how naturally Graham embraced these new experiences, how eagerly he went along with each new suggestion, each new position that came his way.
While the circumstantial evidence suggested Graham had lost his mind, he'd never felt more comfortable with or sure of himself in his life, because despite the brief timeline and transitory setting, Archie wasn’t a stranger. Graham knew Archie. Trusted him. And, while he couldn't quite articulate why or how, he knew Archie knew him in return.
And he loved it.
He loved the way Archie relented under his touch, the way he opened up to Graham's eyes and hands and mouth, offering his body as Graham's own personal playground. He loved the way Archie watched him explore, his eyes patient and kind, his face glowing with affection. He loved the way Archie created this space for Graham to push his boundaries and challenge his ideas of himself without any fear of scrutiny or judgment. He understood what Graham needed and gave it joyfully.
Not that these events were one-sided.
Archie matched his curiosity and then some. He covered every inch of Graham's body with his mouth, his erection throbbing as he consumed Graham like some kind of decadent meal. At first, Graham struggled to believe that his attraction was authentic, that his desire for Graham could ever be so strong. Sure, Graham was proud of his body; he had worked hard for his physique and had come a long way over the years building a body he could wear confidently. He felt strongly that he was doing pretty well for his age. But he noticed, as he learned to be desired, this kind of qualification always appeared.
For his age.
Compared to what he used to be.
His opinion of himself could never exist on its own.
He’d always felt that he was doing well for himself, but he never could shake the insidious assumption that his best was only on par with everyone else’s average, that for some reason he was perpetually two steps behind and would never be able to catch up. But with Archie, there was no caveat, no qualification. Archie didn't treat Graham like he was attractive for his age; he treated Graham like he was the most attractive person Archie had ever gone to bed with. He seemed every bit as thrilled to be doing this with Graham as Graham was doing this with him. And that seemed to heal something, some old wound Graham hadn't known was still open.
After they came – more than once each night – they laid on the bed, heads resting on the other's shoulder, and talked about anything and everything that came to mind. They discussed movies, music, tv. They shared stories from family vacations and favorite summer memories from their childhoods. They compared bucket lists and travel destinations, places they wanted to see most before they died. It was a whole lot of nothing, but it amounted to something so much greater than the sum of its parts.
As the clock approached midnight, Graham finally got up to use the restroom. He walked naked to the bathroom, Archie catcalling him from the bed. He rolled his eyes, unable to suppress a smile. He fell back into bed, letting out a huge sigh and throwing an arm over his forehead.
“You okay over there?” Archie asked playfully, rolling over onto his stomach, his arm pressing up against Graham's side.
“You're wearing me out,” he laughed. “I haven't had this much sex in years.”
Archie cackled. “Sorry to be such a burden!”
“You’re forgiven,” Graham smirked.
They rested there a while, enjoying the sacred stillness between them.
“Just so you know,” Archie spoke again, his tone suddenly serious. “I haven't either.”
“Really?” Graham looked down at Archie, who was tracing lazy circles on Graham's chest. “That kind of surprises me.”
“Why's that?” Archie looked up. “Do I give huge slut vibes?”
Graham laughed, surprised by Archie's sarcasm.
“No, I wouldn't say that,” Graham clarified. “But…you don't look like someone who would have any trouble finding company when you wanted it.”
“Well,” Archie debated this. “Neither do you.”
Graham's eyebrows shot up. That wasn't the response he'd expected.
“Have you been with anyone since the divorce?” Archie asked gently.
Graham shook his head.
“A few months back I tried to set up a dating profile, but that was just…humiliating.”
Archie's brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”
Graham stared up at the ceiling, mulling over the memory of his short-lived, ill-fated dating attempts.
“I knew, going into it, that I was a divorced dad. I wasn't exactly going to be the prime demographic, but...actually being on there? Seeing the options? That was the first time in my life I've ever felt old.”
Archie flinched. “Why was that?”
“I don't know. I guess it was mostly a bunch of kids I had nothing in common with – twenty-somethings I'd never know how to talk to – or other sad divorcees that just made me more depressed about my own life.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. It was a fruitless endeavor.”
“Did you…” Archie paused, watching his finger trace long, smooth lines across Graham's skin. “Were you trying to match with mostly women?”
“Yeah,” Graham nodded. “Yeah, that's what I set the app to show me. But it still somehow sent a couple of guys my way?”
“Really?” Achie looked up, intrigued. “Did you ever match with any of them?”
“No, I didn't. But…I gave their profiles a good look.”
“Yeah?”
Graham chuckled. “I think at the time I was rationalizing it as, you know, I could at least make a friend. Find some guy to go grab a beer with or something. People make friends on dating apps, right?”
Archie's head bobbed side to side. “I guess, yeah.”
“In hindsight they were very attractive. I just couldn't make myself do it.”
“I get that.” Archie nodded. “Wait, so…before you got married, did you ever, you know, fool around with anyone?”
Graham was quiet for a second, feeling a sudden rise of embarrassment at his answer.
“Well,” Graham began. “Besides one accidental handjob in college…it was really just Julie.”
“Accidental handjob?” Archie’s voice was thick with suppressed laughter.
Graham chuckled.
“I went out with this girl a few times. I knew she was a little…free spirited, let’s say, but at the time I was getting self-conscious about the fact that I was twenty and had never done anything with a girl. We went on a couple dates. I kissed her. We’d get together to make out. One time she got a little handsy. She, you know, gave it a squeeze.” Graham paused. “I mean, she basically grazed it and I came in my pants.”
Archie burst into laughter.
“Man, over the clothes and everything?”
“Over the clothes and everything,” Graham admitted.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” he cried, a second cackle escaping his lips. “I shouldn’t be laughing, but that’s hilarious. I’d be devastated.”
“If you were her or me?”
“Honestly? Both,” he laughed.
“Touche.”
Archie tried his best to stop the laughter, rolling over on his back and snuggling into Graham’s side as the last few aftershocks of giggles passed through him.
“Can I ask you something? Graham heard himself say.
“Of course,” Archie answered.
“How –” Graham's voice caught in his throat. “How many people have you been with?”
Graham’s question hung in the air. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but somehow he still felt the need to ask. He could feel Archie tense up next to him, a reaction he found curious. He looked down to see Archie concentrating on the empty ceiling.
“I don’t know the exact count. But it’s probably somewhere in the forties. Give or take.” He paused, though Graham intuited there might be more to the answer. “And, that's guys. There were those few girls in high school, but…I don't really count those anymore.”
Graham wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t think this answer bothered him, but also didn’t like it. Archie turned to meet his eyes.
“Does that bother you?” Archie asked, his tone even.
“I don’t know,” Graham confessed. “I don’t think so. I mean, I know I can’t justifiably hold it against you. It’s just something I haven’t had to think about before. Julie and I were both virgins so…we didn’t really have histories to compare. We came from this environment where you were only ever supposed to have one person.”
Archie smirked. “So she didn’t know about the accidental handjob?”
Graham laughed and thought for a minute. “You know? I don’t think she ever did.”
Archie gasped dramatically. “You scandalous man.”
Graham rolled his eyes aggressively. “Oh yeah, that is me. Just a regular casanova over here.”
They laughed and sighed, settling into a comfortable silence, which Archie was the first to break. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.
“I came out to my parents when I was twenty. I'd started to actually date this guy I'd been fooling around with. I figured, okay, this is a relationship now so they deserve to know. They obviously didn't take it well. And then he broke up with me not that long after I got kicked out.” Archie's tone was flat and distant, almost clinical in his recollection of the events. “After that, I wasn't in the greatest headspace. I figured, I'd already faced the consequences of being queer, I may as well enjoy the good parts. So…I was a little…active for a while. It was fun. And I think it made me feel validated in some way, like if I had enough sex I'd be officially queer and it would make getting kicked out worth it.
“And don't get me wrong, I’m not slut shaming. I don’t think there's anything wrong with being promiscuous. If people want to sleep around, they should. And I know that works for a lot of guys. But I don't think my motivations were…well, anyways. I learned a lot. Figured out what I like and what I don't, what I'll agree to and what I won't.” This sent a chill down Graham's spine, triggering some protective instinct deep within Graham's heart. He tightened his arm around Archie's shoulder. “So I don't regret it, but…it was definitely not sustainable for me.”
“What made you stop?”
“Well, I didn't stop,” Archie smirked.
“You know what I mean,” Graham chuckled.
“I don't know. I think a few different things,” Archie contemplated. “I think I started working nights so my schedule went to shit; I made some new friends so I had real relationships and people to spend time with again; and, I don't know, I just got tired of it. At first, the anonymous hookup thing was exciting and sexy but after a while it just felt…repetitive. Shallow. Kinda bland. For me, at least.”
Graham's mind flashed with images of Archie in bed with faceless bodies, his body tangled in myriad positions. He tried to imagine insecurity and trepidation in place of Archie’s airtight confidence, tried to imagine an Archie in the shoes Graham wore now, just testing the waters and seeing how they felt. His stomach tightened at the images, the sour taste of jealousy blooming in the back of his throat. And yet, he found it oddly arousing, Archie taking ownership of his sexuality in such a way, using his body as an instrument of satisfaction. It was a strange cocktail of emotions, one that left Graham disoriented and confused.
One more image flashed through Graham's mind, leaving in its wake a question he couldn't help but ask.
”Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
Graham's cheeks burned as the words formed on his tongue.
“I know you said you're happy with hands and mouths and whatnot,” he began. “And, to your credit, I have been more than happy with what we've done so far. I don't think I ever could've…anyways. If we did take things further…I don't know what you're used to. That is to say, if you're used to one thing, then I don't know if I'm ready for…” Graham huffed, frustrated with his own prudishness. “What I mean to say is – what role are you used to taking in, like, real sex?”
He felt Archie shift in his arms, turning on his side so he could see Graham's face. Timidly, Graham turned to meet his eyes, which stared up at him, warm and kind and slightly amused.
“I actually like both roles,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Typically it just depends on the guy I’m with but I like both.”
“Oh,” Graham said, somehow both relieved and even more flustered than before. “Cool.”
Archie smiled.
“And, just to put it out there, I think we have been having real sex.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Archie laughed. “You've made me come like eleven times this week. If that doesn't count as sex, I don't know what does.”
Graham’s forehead scrunched as he considered this.
“I guess,” he began. “I just figured because we haven't, you know…” He looked down at Archie, whose face remained impressively neutral.
“Haven't what?”
“You know…” Graham strained his neck with implication. “You're gonna make me say it.”
“Yes, I am,” Archie flashed a wicked grin.
“I just figured because we haven't actually fucked it didn't count as real sex,” Graham rushed.
Archie looked amused then thoughtful.
“Do you want it to count as real sex?”
“What?” Graham asked, surprised. “I – yeah. I do.” Graham let this answer hang in the air, studying its authenticity. “I do,” he said more firmly, looking Archie squarely in the eye. “Very much. I guess I just thought this was all just…consolation for you since you're probably used to more.”
“You know,” Archie began, his voice even. “Sex between two guys can look like a lot of things. Sure, it can be fucking and sucking and sixty-nining. But it can also be laying here touching each other; it can be rubbing ourselves together when we cuddle or makeout; it can be anything, I think, that lets me make you feel good. And vice versa.”
Graham let this settle in his mind. As this week with Archie had played out, part of him had felt guilty for keeping them in a state of perpetual foreplay, thinking that the sex he'd been used to in marriage would cleanly translate into fucking a guy. Not that he'd been lacking – these trysts with Archie had been powerful and intense, and not just because of their novelty. The sheer eroticism of employing their full bodies in the service of one another had been, at times overwhelming, unlocking sensations Graham hadn't known he was missing. He just hadn't thought Archie might be experiencing the same intensity.
“And, you should know,” Archie continued, his hand reaching down and squeezing Graham's shaft. He was too spent to get hard, but Archie didn't seem to care. He only wanted to touch him. “You've made me feel really good this week.”
“You've made me feel really good, too,” Graham said. He leaned forward and kissed Archie tenderly.
Eventually, Graham needed to get to sleep. Tomorrow was his last day with the grounds team, and he needed the energy to tie everything up nicely. Tomorrow was also, Graham realized, his last day in Des Moines for this trip. He'd be driving back home on Friday.
Graham pulled on his boxer briefs and leaned against the bathroom doorway, watching Archie dress, retrieving his clothes from the trail they’d formed across the floor.
“So I was thinking,” he began, while Archie pulled on his polo. “Tomorrow's my last night this week. Maybe you could sleep over? Only if you wanted. I get to sleep in a little on Friday so I wouldn't have to kick you out or anything.” He smiled nervously. “I thought it might be nice.”
Archie smiled, then walked forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I'd love to stay the night.”
“Great,” Graham smiled. “Then I guess I'll see you then.”
“Guess you will.”
They stood there, inches apart, Archie's hand on Graham's forearm. Graham felt a strange pull in his chest. It reminded him of their first night out together, the feeling to touch Archie, to hug him goodbye. But this pull was no longer physical. They were already touching, after all. No, this pull was deeper, more intangible, some invisible cord anchoring himself to Archie's very presence.
“Goodnight,” Archie smiled, breaking Graham’s train of thought. He let go of Graham's arm and left the room, the door closing quietly behind him.
“Goodnight,” Graham whispered, his voice echoing in the empty room.
