“We’re just helping each other out on a long shift. It’s not gay,” Sal says into the air of the empty station bathroom as he wraps a hand around Tommy’s dick, and then in the same breath, “No one can ever know.”
Tommy nods, too far gone in the fantasy-come-to-life of what’s happening to dwell on the irony there. He’ll pick that apart later. For now, he has what he’s craved for so long within his grasp, he just has to reach out and take it.
He gets his hand on Sal’s dick in return and revels in the way it twitches under his touch. Tommy wants to moan with how good it feels to touch another man like this, to be touched by one. But he has to pretend this is friend stuff—normal straight guy shit, not the stuff of waking wet dreams—or else it will be taken away from him.
{finish on ao3 or continue below}
Tommy tries to match Sal’s pace: hard, fast, efficient. He thumbs through the liquid gathering at the head, twists his hand on the upstroke, but doesn’t let himself linger—even as his body is screaming for him to slow down and savor it. This might be his first and last chance to have this.
The way Sal is looking right at him is unexpected. He’d thought Sal would look away, pick a tile on the wall and stare at it, pretend this isn’t happening, but no: Sal is in it, studying Tommy’s face in that passive slack-jawed way of his. Tommy keeps his expression carefully neutral but he’s worried even that will give him away.
Sal’s mouth drops open on a silent moan when Tommy’s thumb drags along the vein on the underside just right, so Tommy does it again harder. He wants Sal to like this. He wants Sal to want to do this again.
Tommy is losing focus quickly. Sal isn’t working as hard to impress him, isn’t pulling out different moves to see what he likes, but his hand is big and warm and calloused and masculine around Tommy’s dick and it really doesn’t need to do anything else to have him panting and leaking.
He’s thought about this so many times and the reality of it is even better than he could have imagined. Every bit of energy he’s not using to give Sal the handjob of his life he’s putting into not whining and humping Sal’s hand like a dog.
He takes half a step forward before he can stop himself; needing to be closer. Sal huffs but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step back.
They’re so close to each other now that Tommy could wrap his hand around both of their dicks and jerk them off like that. He knows it would feel good, wants it more than anything in this moment, but it would be a definitive step over the ‘not gay’ line into territory he’s not sure Sal will follow him willingly. It’s this or nothing, so Tommy chooses this.
“You close?” Tommy asks. He is. He can already feel it rising in his stomach, his balls, licking along his spine. He wants Sal to come first, to hide whatever his own orgasm is going to look like in the mists of Sal’s pleasure.
Sal nods. His face is inches away from Tommy’s and he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
When it happens, Tommy feels it. He doesn’t know why he didn’t expect to—he always feels the pulsing of his own dick as he comes—but to feel another man’s dick twitch and spasm as it shoots warm into his hand has Tommy biting back a moan so quickly he chokes on it.
Sal comes with a low groan and Tommy is helpless to follow. For as long as he’s wanted this—wanted Sal—he thinks he could’ve come from that sound alone, but the way Sal’s big hand tightens on the next few strokes is the last thing he needs to send him hurtling over the edge.
Tommy’s forehead drops to Sal’s shoulder without permission and he keens high in his throat as the pleasure rips through him. It’s easily the best orgasm he’s had in years and he’s instantly terrified of what that means.
He shoves it down. Later. He’ll think about that later.
Tommy pants, coming back to himself, and he gives himself two more seconds of physical contact with Sal before he pulls back completely.
They both lean against the hard tile wall of the bathroom and catch their breaths.
“Good?” Tommy asks, giving a joking half-smile. He knows the answer but it seems like a safe enough way to start talking again.
“Jesus, kid,” Sal laughs. “Yeah. It was good. Where the fuck’d you learn how to do that?”
He grabs some paper towels to wipe his hand off, then gives them to Tommy to do the same.
“Lonely childhood,” Tommy says. It’s true but it’s not the answer. “Dad had a lot of porn mags he’d leave around. I spent a lot of time jerking off. Figured yours doesn’t work too differently from mine.”
That look is back in Sal’s eyes like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet again. He just shakes his head and laughs.
Sal walks towards the door but stops before he opens it. “Give it a few,” he says. He doesn’t look back at Tommy but he has a small smile on his lips still. Tommy takes that as a win.
Sal leaves and Tommy is left alone with the enormity of what just happened. It was good. It was hot. Sal clearly doesn’t hate him, isn’t disgusted by him. He seemed almost… intrigued.
Tommy will sort out the shame and elation he feels swirling inside of himself like oil and water later.
For now, he washes his hands, splashes some water on his face, and gets back to work.
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I’m probably a little late to the party (heh) but there’s something I’ve noticed concerning color theory and Max, and Max in general
When she is introduced to us as MADMAX, her situation with Billy makes her feel lonely and angry. She’s wearing red clothes (with a white stripe!) and her hair is down (letting her rage roam free).
In here, she’s clearly annoyed. She’s just left Billy’s car, Mr. Clarke made her stand before the class and named her Maxine when she just wanted to melt into the background and get over her first day at an unfamiliar school, still not thrilled about having to move from California.
Still, she’s zipped down, since those people didn’t do anything especially hurtful towards her and maybe she’s a little hopeful about them.
When she’s mad after an interaction with Billy she’s wearing red:
Darker red! She’s at school where she won’t have to deal with Billy for a while. She’s cooling like lava but there’s still one streak of the anger in the back of her head.
When the boys approach her, her zip-up sweatshirt is unzipped to show some of the color underneath. She’s happy! She will not let her guard down completely but she won’t hiss at them immediately! Still, she’s ready for disappointment and snapping right back to being fully red.
Yellow is not a lighter shade of red, but it’s definitely close on the color wheel. Closer to white, too! She is showing she’s not only mad, there also is softness inside her! It’s still a shade connected to red (anger) but yellow by itself is more of a happiness color. She wants to make friends but is still scared because of the new environment and Billy.
In the car with Billy (the scene where he wants to run over the party), the entire scene is shot in a way that’s barely letting us see her clothes. It’s mostly covered by hair, too, but we can see it’s still at least a little unzipped as there’s a bit of the yellow collar visible.
In the scene, she’s defending Hawkins saying, that it’s not that bad and that she can’t see any cows (yellow). She’s scared of Billy, so she’s trying to cover up her sympathy towards Hawkins and towards the boys (with red and her hair, Billy saw her get out of the car with the sweatshirt zipped up and hair down, now she’s covering her softness with what is familiar to Billy, so that he doesn’t see anything has changed, notice that softness and hurt her. That’s exactly what she does when she says she doesn’t know the boys trying to protect them from getting ran over).
Yellow! Fully yellow :) She’s happy to be shown weird pollywog-like creatures with the rest of the Party!
Right after Will gets possessed, her question as to what “true sight” means gets brushed off by all of the boys. She’s hurt and feels excluded, but her hurt makes her angry again. Next time we see her, she’s all red again.
“Party members only! This is non-negotiable.”
“I thought you guys wanted me in your Party!”
At the arcade! She’s already acclimated to Hawkins, and the arcade is her favorite place.
Alright, I’m getting tired and my third eye is slowly closing, so I’m going to wrap this up quickly, since I think I presented what the gist of the idea is.
In season 3, yellow, patterns, colors! She is now fully a member of the party! She has friends, she knows the secrets, El is back. This is the happiest she’s been.
Clothes are important in both of the girl’s characters! (El changes from murky colors to vivid patterns when she finds herself and there’s a post about El shedding layers of blue in season 4. I’d link it but can’t find it, I’m sorry!) There being a scene like this, with them fooling around with their clothes is basically the peak of happiness :)
Here Max gets really worried because of Billy. She’s feeling a bit guilty ‘cause that’s her step-brother that’s sowing chaos and hurting her friends. El is straining herself. The situation is looking BAD. Blue!
Beginning of season 4
Blue - she’s grieving and feeling guilty, Black coat - she’s hiding herself in a shell. She’s not particularly hiding her grief but she can close off at any moment.
(Btw Lucas is also wearing a blue shirt with some coats. I’d say he is sad because Max dumped him and doesn’t want to tell him things but the coats have a couple of colors because he’s hiding away his nerdiness in order to be cool :)
Now, the overcoat is blue with yellow elements - Max is being honest about her grief. She’s targeted by Vecna, the Hawkins gang knows she is SAD. It’s her last day, she can unfurl. The sweatshirt is unzipped and showing red and white underneath, the same colors we’ve seen her wear when we first met her. The girl that slammed the door of Billy’s car. The one that was scared of him. That girl is still inside Max.
Sometimes, she’s wearing this. Grief covered up with brownish-reddish... Red. She’s going back to her previous self, she is talking to Lucas again and he SEES her... But to get that shade of red you go more towards black on the color wheel. She’s not that vivid, fiery red anymore. There are bits of that girl deep inside her, but she’s too tired to make it her entire self. She’s tired.
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