I watch him for a second. It takes me a long time to look him up and down and decide what I'm going to do next. Before I can think it through, I just do it. It's not because I want to score points with him, though I clearly do. I just want to help him. He has to be uncomfortable, he’s been on his feet all day and he has a long trip time ahead of him.

Honestly, I can’t think of anything less comfortable than him having to wear his clothes right then for a long stretch of time.

I look him up and down, trying to appraise his shirt size. He’s sitting, though, so it’s almost impossible for me to tell if my clothes will fit him. The only way I’m going to be able to know is if I ask him.

“Will they let you work without your uniform?”

He furrows his brow. “Yeah, I think so, because I’m not technically on duty. As long as I'm wearing my jacket and my nametag.”

I don’t say anything, and he gets this whimsical look on his face. “Honestly,” he says, dreamily, “new clothes would be heavenly right now. Unfortunately, I don't have anything to change into.”

“Do you think my clothes would fit?”

The contented expression is gone from his face and he looks at me like I've gone crazy. “Wait,” he says. “You want to give me your clothes?”

“Well, unlike you, I can change if I have to. You don't have anything on you, and you're eventually going to be on a plane for a long time, right after working. So yeah, I'm offering you my clothes.”

“Why?” he asks raising his eyebrows.

“Because,” I reply, more defensively than I want to. “I just explained it to you. I just told you why I'm offering you my clothes. Because you clearly need them and I have a lot and—”

“No, I understand the logic, but...”

He trails off. He looks away when he does. And suddenly he looks extremely pained, like something else has happened, something that I don’t know about. “What?”

“I don't know. I just can’t remember the last nice thing you did for me.”

I gulp when I swallow.

I’m trying my best not to feel offended at that, because of course he's right. I don’t remember the last nice thing I did for him either. It was probably to leave him alone for the rest of his life, honestly. That’s one of the only good things I think I ever did for Jason after what happened. I try my best to seem nonchalant as I try to make a joke about it. I’m trying to cut the tension between us, make it so that things go back to being normal again.

More normal.

Normal for today, in any case. That has to count for something. I smile at him. It’s a thin smile, a poor attempt, but it’s a smile nevertheless. “What about that coffee?”

He looks at his foam cup and laughs. “You owed me this. I stopped people from arresting you, remember?”

I try to widen my smile, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t bring myself to do anything but look into those beautiful eyes.

He looks away from me and clears his throat. “Does the offer still stand?”

 “Of course,” I reply. “You can take whatever you want. Honestly, most of my belongings are in the bag.”

“Why?”

“Well, once my sugar momma broke up with me, I realized that I had nowhere to stay. So that means I have nowhere to put my stuff, so if you take some of it, that’d actually be good for me also.”

I want him to laugh at that, but he doesn't. Instead he just looks at me with this curious mix of concern and affection that I haven't seen in his face for a very, very, long time. Not since we were kids. He looks familiar like this, instead of just gorgeous. Like the kid I used to know.

“Okay. If you really don't mind, I will take you up on the offer,” he finally says.

“I really don't mind,” I reply with a smile. “Will you get my stuff from behind the counter, though? I kind of need that.”

He smiles. “Sure,” he says. “Let me just go do that.”

He walks up toward the counter and starts talking to a person with an undercut and blue hair. They seem to have rapport and I feel a stab of jealousy in my chest. Not because he has friends, because I’m not an idiot, just because it feels like the kind of thing we could have had.

The kind of thing we should have, if I hadn’t been so stupid.

The blue-haired person hands him the cases eventually. I go over to where he is and grab them so he won’t have to get them by himself.

“So, Jason,” I say. “Let’s go pick out your next outfit.”

We get to the men's bathroom after a little while. I follow Jason, who holds the door open for me after he held his keycard up to a locked door I hadn’t even spotted before.

We went past a bunch of VIP rooms until we got to this bathroom.

It's completely empty, with only three or four stalls.

It’s an all-genders bathroom, too, which there aren’t many of in the airport. Well, I didn’t know that there were any, until he brought me to this staff bathroom.

When I questioned him about it, Jason said that he didn't want to go to the public bathroom because he didn't want to be rifling through my stuff in public. It makes sense. Plus, this bathroom is honestly a lot nicer than the ones near the gate.

It's off to the side of one of the VIP lounges, so it’s overall quite discreet, and I really don't want everyone to look at my stuff. Or rather, I really don't want everyone to see how poor I am. My clothes need replacing.

Some of them are nice enough, though. Some of them are good enough that it is going to be okay for Jason to be wearing them at work. I know that they are packed in there, way below everything else, under all my band t-shirts and my ripped jeans, and it's going to take us both quite a bit of time to rifle through my clothes, but at least he's going to be able to wear clothes that are clean.

I mean, I might be poor, but that doesn't mean that I'm dirty. I do my laundry, even if I have to do it in the middle of the night, when all the cat ladies and college students are using the laundromat too.

I set my cases down next to the sink and Jason watches me.

“Okay, so,” I say. “I have a bunch of black button-up shirts, and some jeans, which might be a little big for you but you can wear a belt. I do have a bunch of belts.”

“I can wear the uniform belt,” he replies with a smile.

“Honestly, I can't believe that you didn't bring any of your clothes.”

“I told you. I don't like to carry stuff around.”

“That includes baggage, huh?”

It's a joke, or at least I’m trying to make it a joke, but I don't think it comes across as such because he looks at me with a puzzled look and shakes his head. “I don't know. I don't like baggage but I carry a lot of it around.”

I swallow and look away from him. “I get it. I carry a lot too.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Didn’t we establish that you can ask me anything?”

“The person you were in love with, do I know them?” he asks. He’s leaning over my case, and so am I, as I struggle with the lock. It’s hard for me to remember what the passcode is—it’s something super simple, something I use all the time—when he’s in my vicinity like this. When I can smell him like this, when I can see him like this.

“Yes,” I finally reply when the lock clicks open. “You know the—you know him.”

“Max.”

I don’t look at him.

“Max,” he says once again. My gaze darts up to him and his eyes are glimmering and he’s wetting his lips.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

This is going to be my only chance to do this, ever, in my entire life, because I've already lost the first chance I got.

It's the biggest regret of my life, and now I get to rectify it. If I don't take advantage of this, I'll be a huge idiot. I lean over and kiss him on the mouth. His lips are soft and warm against mine, and my heart is beating at a thousand miles an hour.

At first, I’m worried he's going to pull away. I'm worried he's going to tell me that I misread the situation, but he doesn't.

He kisses me back, hesitantly at first, but then more passionately. He puts his hand on my cheek, his mouth opens slightly and then our tongues are playing war against each other in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that aren’t restrained in the slightest.

We’re both gasping by the time that we pull away from each other. I don't know about him, but this is what I wanted for such a long time that it takes me a while to process it. Jason Mayes just kissed me, or rather, Jason Mayes just kissed me back. And it was wonderful. It was the best kiss I've ever had in my entire life. It sent this electrifying impulse through me, and made it so much more than just a kiss. It was an experience, almost a religious one.

I can’t wait to do it again. I need to do it again.

He seems to share the same idea, because soon—before I can speak, before I can do anything but stare at him—his lips are on mine again, and he's kissing me hungrily.

We're both still kneeling on the floor, and kissing like this isn't exactly comfortable.

But it doesn't matter, because soon he pushes me up against the wall and he kisses me just as passionately there. He's kneeling and I'm crouching, in the middle of the bathroom, in the middle of an airport right before Christmas. Anyone could walk in at any point and my history with Jason is extremely complicated.

Regardless of all of that, kissing him is perfect. It's perfect even as I slide on the wall so I’m sitting down and he’s kissing me some more, never letting his lips linger away from mine for too long.

His lips soon move away from my own, and he takes a second to catch his breath. Before I can speak, he’s kissing down my neck, sending tingles down my spine. His hand has moved so he's tugging at the bottom of my shirt, and I understand what he means. I didn't think I would be getting naked in a bathroom in the middle of an airport, but for him I would do anything. I would do whatever it takes to make this experience happen, so I raise my hands over my head as I let him take my shirt off. He moves away from me for a second and looks me up and down. He smiles and his eyes shine. “Guess you've been working out.”

I smile at him. “Have to. Job. What about you?”

His smile turns into a grin. “Oh, yes. I’ve totally been working out. Do you want to go into one of the stalls and find out just how much I’ve been working out?”

“Yes. I definitely want to do that.”

He gets to his feet, and he offers me his hands.

It's just him helping me up and to my feet, but even the touch of his hand makes me shiver. I am a mess around him and I’m a mess when he touches me but he seems to find it endearing. It's so weird because a little while ago I still felt like he wasn't okay with even giving me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, and now he's pulling me up and dragging me to a handicap stall with him so we can keep making out.

I think it's so that we can keep making out, but maybe it's something more.

Actually, now that I think about it, it's probably something more. My body is reacting to this, not just with the bursts of electricity that his touch is sending down my spine and through my body, but my cock seems to be enjoying it just as much.

It’s getting strangled by my jeans and I want to take them off but I’m also kind of afraid that he’s going to find out how much he’s turning me on. I don’t know why I’m afraid, because I think that I’m turning him on too.

The look in his eyes, that’s desire.

I’m sure of it.

He smiles at me and then he turns around. We walk into one of the handicap stalls together. They all have handicap access so I don't feel bad about taking up any space here, and he leans over and latches the door locked, reaching out so that his arm is around me.

Because his arm is already around me, he can put it around my waist and yank me closer to him. Our faces are so close to each other, I can see the lines next to his eyes.

He’s gorgeous and I want to take a moment to take this all in, but before I can do that, he kisses me on the mouth again, softly and deeply, just as passionately as before but taking more time to enjoy the moment. I put my hands on his hard chest and I take a moment simply to enjoy this without wondering where it might lead.

I'm making out with him. With the guy that I'm sure used to hate me. It doesn't matter though, because he's kissing me like he's in love with me too. I’m getting exactly what I need.

Maybe this is what I've always wanted—what I’ve always needed—and I'm not going to waste this opportunity by questioning it. I kiss him back, I kiss him back until I'm breathless, until we're both breathless.

He moves away from me for a second and his hands go to my stomach. He holds his hands there for a moment, and then he starts to stroke the strip of hair between my belly button and my cock, but his finger never goes below my waistband.

My clothes are all outside, my cases are open, I couldn't give less of a shit. His touch is electric.

Nothing else matters.

He moves his hand slightly and undoes my belt. If he wraps his hand around my incredibly hard cock I'm pretty sure I'm going to cum without him doing anything.

But he doesn't do that, instead, he yanks me closer to him again, this time by wrapping a finger around one of my belt loops so that my head is cradled against his neck. I’m already so close, and I can feel his breathing on the nape of my neck. Every single time he breathes, it sends a shiver down my spine. He holds my hand, and then he puts his lips against my ear.

He whispers, “Do you want to do this?”

I don't know why he's asking. I clearly want to do this, because I'm in here with him. I'm already doing it. This is what I want. “Yes.”

“If you want to stop, tell me,” he says. He kisses my neck, and then he lightly nibbles my earlobe.

He moves away from me. Now he's facing me, looking right into my face, his brown eyes glimmering. “I want this to be a good experience for you.”

“I need this.”

 “Okay,” he replies smiling. He strokes my cheek and his smile widens into a grin. “I just want you to know that I will do everything in my power to make sure that this is a good and memorable experience for you.”

 “It's already a memorable experience for me, Jason,” I reply as I try my best not to laugh. Then I direct my gaze toward the floor and feel my cheeks burn. “You're making it a little weird though.”

“I'm sorry. I'm trying my best to savor the moment, and I kind of can’t believe you would go along with this.”

At the same time as he’s speaking, he’s still stroking the trail of hair between my belly-button and my waistband, every now and then moving his finger so that it goes below my waistband and sends a shiver down my spine.

He’s driving me crazy.

He’s making me gasp with just the tip of his finger.

“Why, though? I’m super into you,” I breathlessly reply.

He frowns. “You are?”

I move my hands down to my waistband, and I unzip my jeans. I move them down slightly as I grab my cock. Just the touch of my own hand isn't enough to send me over the edge, but it's clear that I have a huge erection. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my entire life. He takes a deep breath as he looks down at my cock. Eventually, after a little while of staring, he puts his hand around it. It's a slight, mild touch. He's not doing anything but holding me. But even just that is almost enough to get me to cum right then and there. I don’t want to, but I’m pretty sure if he moves at all I’m going to. That would be ridiculous. I don't want to be ridiculous. I want to impress him. He seems suitably impressed by my size though and after lightly squeezing me and getting a moan out of me, he relaxes his grip.

Then he licks his lips, and he shakes his head. “Okay. You are into me. Do you want to see how into you I am?”

I nod vigorously. I want to see his dick, I want to see how hard I have made him. He lets go of me, which makes me feel weird and empty for a second until he starts to undo the buttons on his own pants. He looks at me and sighs with relief as he starts to move them down his toned legs. God, he’s so gorgeous, I could watch him strip forever. But part of me doesn't want to watch him. Well, part of me doesn’t want to just watch him.

My gaze falls to between his legs, to his hardened cock, which I can see the outline of through his black boxers. He's well-endowed, and that's easy to see even through the outline of his cock, and all of a sudden, I'm a bit intimidated.

I don't know what to do with the information I have now, because this is my first time doing anything like this, really. The time at the party doesn’t compare. Do I reach out and touch him? I want to, but I don’t know if I’ll screw things up.

I'm about to open my mouth to say something to that effect but he grabs my wrists and yanks me forward and he starts kissing me on the mouth again. It's as insistent as it is passionate and soon I’m pushed up against the door of the stall, making a racket as we make out. We're both still wearing underwear, but our cocks are rubbing against each other. The friction is making this the hottest make-out session I've ever had in my entire life. Our cocks are touching, even through the fabric of his boxers, and mine is twitching because of him.

I move away from him and he gasps for breath. “Hold on, Jason, stop.”

He instantly lets me go. He moves slowly away and cocks his head. “You okay?”

I sigh. “Yes, yes. Better than okay. Just don't want to...”

He smirks at this. “You don’t want to do what?”

“I don't want to cum yet.”

“Why?” he asks it as if it's the most natural thing to ask in the world.

“Because. I want you to cum too.”

I say breathlessly. He licks his lips and smiles.

He moves closer to me again, this time putting his hands on the sides of my hips. Then he scratches softly down my sides, taking my underwear with his fingertips.

I'm completely exposed, in front of him, and I'm pretty sure that I've never been happier in my entire life.

I'm still hard and to even just have him looking at me like this makes it so hard to control myself. I'm dying from the anticipation. He takes a second to look at me, and I'm wondering if he’s deciding to do something.

He gets this devilish smile on his face. “You want us both to cum, huh?”

I nod. Or at least I think I nod, because I'm not actually sure if I'm moving my head or doing anything.

He’s still very close to me. He kisses me on the mouth, softly, sweetly. Then he drops to his knees and he opens his mouth. I look down at him with wide eyes as he opens his mouth and licks the underside of my cock. His expert tongue makes me moan. I grab the back of his head as he speeds up his approach.

He's really good at this, and he looks up at me as he throat-fucks himself with my rock-hard cock. He grabs my tight balls and strokes them as he keeps speeding up, until we're both gasping for breath. I moan and groan and I tell him that I'm about to cum, or at least I think I tell him, so he pulls my cock out of his mouth, and he smiles at me.

He licks his lips, tasting me. “Don’t worry. I'm going to make it so that we both cum. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yes,” I say between a heaving sigh. “That's exactly what I want.”

I hold my hands out to help him up, and when he’s on his feet I almost drop down to my knees, but he doesn’t let go of my wrists and he shakes his head instead. I'm following his lead, he's the one who knows what he's doing, so wait for him for a second to see what he does.

With a deep breath, he takes both of us in hand. “Oh my God. You’re covered in precum,” he says with a smile. I blush. I don't know if that's a good thing. But I am, and I'm covered in spit too, which makes it easier for him to grab on to both of us and start moving both of our cocks up and down. The friction from both our dicks is too much, and it's starting to be too much for Jason too because he's throwing his head back and his eyes are closed. He slows down for a second, his grip loosening. “Do you like this?”

“Yes,” I reply with a sigh. “I love it.”

“You're so fucking hot,” he says. He opens his eyes and looks right into mine. He starts moving his hand up and down, faster and faster, his grip slightly tighter, his cock sliding and gliding against mine. I'm well lubed up, and so is he and soon it is too much. We are both looking right into each other's eyes as he swallows and tells me that he's going to cum. He's going to cum on me.

“Yes. Please, cum on me,” I can hear myself saying. “Please.”

He nods vigorously and kisses me on the mouth, sloppy open-mouthed fast-paced kisses that match the pace of his hand. I can taste the coffee, the mint and myself. Soon electricity is shooting up through my entire body as I cum all over him and I can feel him cumming all over me. He moans into my mouth, our mouths still open and on top of each other, and I moan and groan into his. By the time we’re both done, I’m spent and so is he, and I almost collapse. Instead, I tip right into his arms. He holds me up and hugs me close to him.

It’s… weird.

Perfect, but weird. Like cuddling after sex, but we’re both vertical, in a bathroom stall in an airport. He kisses my cheek and strokes my hair. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply, my eyes closed. “That was…”

“Good?”

“Sublime,” I say.

He chuckles. “You’re sweet.”

He’s still not letting go of me. I put my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder. I'm pretty sure I could stay like this forever, but we hear someone coming.

He moves away from me and laughs, and he puts his hand over his mouth. I open my eyes widely as I wonder what we're supposed to do. He puts a finger over his lips, as if to tell me to be quiet, as if I wasn't going to be quiet already.

The person outside is whistling to themselves. They go into a stall, and we wait with bated breath as they do their business, walk out of the stall, wash their hands, and don't even seem to notice my open cases are outside. I guess this happens a lot more in the employee bathroom than in the public bathroom outside. And they leave the bathroom, which we know because of the way the door swings.

We both dissolve into a fit of giggles. The situation is so weird. We're both practically naked, and somebody else has walked into the bathroom to discover us. It's way too surreal.

Jason seems to feel the same way because he shakes his head as he slowly straightens himself up. He hands me a lot of toilet paper to clean myself up and does the same thing himself.

We both do the best job we can, but it's not a very good job.

We both need a shower. But it doesn't matter, because I like having part of him on my skin. And I don't know if that makes me slutty or if it makes me dirty but it is what it is.

I love it. I love that we did this, and I want him to cum on me again and again for the rest of my life.

I don't know how I can go about saying that, though, without seeming creepy about it. I want to have a conversation about what we just did meant, but I don't think right now is the appropriate time for it.

He smiles at me. “It's a good thing you have those clothes, huh?”

“Yeah, it's a good thing,” I reply, smiling back at him.