Archive of Our Own

Giannis got a text right after the game. It was from an unknown number, but he knew who it was. One glance at the screen confirmed it.

it’s hali. i’m sooooo sorry. don’t wanna text this. can i call or smth?

Giannis briefly considered not answering, gave it a few minutes, and then typed out a response.

I’m heading back to my hotel.

He could practically see Tyrese thinking about how to respond. The text bubble loaded, then disappeared. Popped up again.

can i stop by for a sec? just for a quick talk. please

Giannis shook his head.

He dropped the address.

As soon as he saw Tyrese at his door, Giannis wasn’t mad anymore. 

He’d been fuming about it for the past few hours, pacing around the room and thinking about all the ways he’d tell Tyrese off for it, maybe humiliate him a little, but seeing Tyrese like that, looking so anxious and just standing nervously in front of Giannis' door like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there took away most of Giannis’ anger.

Giannis opened the door, and it wasn’t the guy whose dad had just disrespected him or the guy who had just kicked them out of the play-offs.

It was someone’s child.

Tyrese’s raspy voice came in before he did. “Hey, man. Sorry to overstep. Just thought I should do this the right way.”

Giannis was just standing in the doorframe, arms crossed. Just because he wasn’t mad didn’t mean that he was going to make it easy for Tyrese.

“You come to gloat some more? Wave that towel with your face on it and get all up in my space?”

Tyrese winced. “I came to apologize,” he said. “It wasn’t right. What my pops did.”

“He’s your dad,” Giannis said stiffly. 

Tyrese sighed. “Yeah. I know. That doesn’t mean I agree with what he did. We talked, and I told him it’s not okay to do shit like that, even if he’s proud of me.”

“There is a difference between pride and ego,” Giannis said firmly. “I think we both know what that was.”

Tyrese’s gaze snapped up. “Hey, I’m not gonna insult my dad,” he said. “Like, sure, maybe he crossed the line and all, but he’s still my dad. I’ll apologize for it, ‘cause I feel like some of it is on me, but I ain’t gonna say–”

“What part do you think is on you?” Giannis asked.

“What?”

“You come here because you feel guilty about what happened, yeah?” Giannis said. “Why?”

“Giannis, I just–I already told you.”

“So you’re apologizing for your dad,” Giannis said. “Is this what he’s taught you?”

Tyrese bristled. “What are you implying?”

“Only reason I would be upset with you is if I was a sore loser,” Giannis said. “Not because of anything he's done. What happened is between your dad and I.”

Tyrese crossed his arms, mirroring Giannis’s stance.

“Just take the apology, then,” Tyrese said. “My pops…I know that he wants to apologize too. He just wants to do it in a different way.”

Giannis laughed. “Your ‘pops’ apologized already.”

Tyrese looked confused. “What?”

“He said that the League is so soft nowadays, and I need to get back in my place and be a good loser. Said I could go off and fuck myself if I thought he was actually sorry.”

Tyrese’s jaw dropped. “Nooooooo. Please. Tell me you’re joking.”

Giannis said calmly, “Does he talk like that to all of your competitors? Or is it just me?”

Tyrese instantly softened.

“Giannis, I am so sorry,” he gushed. “It’s so fucked up that he would say something like that. If there's anything I can do to make it up, I will. He did not need to say that. God. He’s not usually like this, I swear.”

Giannis blinked. He was confused by how such a sweet man could have been created by someone who seemed so malicious and ill-tempered.

“You didn’t raise your dad right,” Giannis said.

“Excuse me?”

“He is very different from you.”

Tyrese looked wary. “How so?”

“I look at you, and I do not see any traces of that man.”

Tyrese laughed softly. “Nah, man. Don’t do that. That’s my dad.”

Giannis was carefully observing Tyrese. He stepped back. “You gonna come in?”

“Oh! Uh, okay. Sure, if it ain’t an inconvenience for you.” Tyrese stepped into the space Giannis had left, and whistled. “Oh, wow. You got one of those celebrity suites.”

Giannis shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Perks of being the Greek Freak.”

There was a beat of silence. It was a bit tense, but not entirely uncomfortable. Just seemed like they were both trying to figure out where to go from there.

Then, Giannis cracked a smile.

“You know what? Fuck it. Let’s drink. I got a whole bottle of champagne in my minifridge, and I’m not about to waste it.”

Tyrese wiggled his eyebrows a bit. “Someone get cocky?” He teased.

“The hotel staff put it.”

“Ok.” Tyrese giggled. “You tell yourself that.”

Giannis found it endearing how Tyrese’s voice just randomly went up a few octaves whenever he was excited.

“Are you still going through puberty?” He teased.

“Aw, man, that ain’t cool,” Tyrese said. “This is my voice.” It was lower again.

“This is my voice,” Giannis repeated, mocking him.

“Oh my gosh. I’ll beat your ass.” Tyrese slapped Giannis in the arm.

“You should respect your higher ups,” Giannis countered, smirking.

“Uh, let’s not forget who beat you.” Tyrese moved up to his tippy-toes (Giannis noted with amusement that he was still shorter) and grinned. “There. Now I’m your higher up.”

Giannis raised an eyebrow.

“Hali. You have a ring?”

Tyrese’s grin faded into a stubborn, determined expression. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right time,” he said. “Maybe I don’t want one just yet.”

“Waiting for someone to hand it to you?”

“Ooook.”

“You should sit down.” Giannis continued, gesturing to the couch. “Let someone else get it for you.”

Tyrese paused, picking up on the subtext. “Are you tryna tell me something?”

Giannis noticed a quick flash of anger in Tyrese’s eyes, though he was trying to play it cool. It was cute. “What, I hurt your feelings?”

Tyrese shook his head, forcing a laugh. “Nah. Gonna take a lot more than that.”

Giannis leaned in, voice softening just a bit. “With a face like that, I’m honestly surprised you don’t have a ring yet.”

Tyrese’s jaw tightened, a flush rising on his cheeks. “I don’t need anyone to get me anything. I can get it myself.”

“Yeah? Your dad seemed to think so. Out ready to throw punches in your honor.”

Giannis had meant it in a joking way, but Tyrese looked down, quiet.

“He didn’t need to do that.”

“Maybe he did. Poor little Hali–all alone out there on the court with no one to protect him.”

Tyrese instantly got up in Giannis' face. “Man, what the hell is your problem? Talking about respect and humility in front of the cameras and then turning around and saying this shit. Fucking hypocrite.”

Giannis pushed him back and gently placed his hands on the back of Tyrese’s neck. “I respect you,” he said.

Tyrese huffed. “Whatever, man. You can go off and tell everyone that I’m overrated or whatever. Ain’t nothing new.”

Giannis went quiet. He was noticing how Tyrese’s neck was flushed wherever Giannis’ fingers made contact.

“You got a condition where your skin looks sunburnt everywhere I touch you?”

“It means you’re touching me too much,” Tyrese snapped, shoving him away. “Means back off.”

Giannis only grinned, undeterred. “So I’m too hot for you to handle?”

“You’re pissing me off. That's what you are.”

“Well, I like it,” Giannis murmured, voice dropping as his thumb brushed lightly over the heated skin. “Getting you all pretty-boy pink.”

Tyrese made a strangled, incredulous sound. “Man, what are you even saying? Was something lost in translation or what?”

“I can’t be the first to call you pretty.”

Tyrese shook his head. “Nope. Never heard it.”

“Hm…” Tyrese pretended to think. “Maybe your girlfriend–”

Giannis was already tugging Haliburton towards him. “What would your pops think of this,” he whispered into Tyrese's neck. "You, standing right here. With me."

Tyrese laughed, a little breathless. “He’d probably beat your ass.”

“I don’t see you pulling away.”

“Ah, I see what this is.” Tyrese let out a short, nervous laugh. “You’re trying to take advantage of the fact I feel bad about what my dad did so you can humiliate me. This is an ego thing.”

Giannis was caging Tyrese in between his arms. “Hali, I already said that that’s between me and him. I’m not letting that affect us.”

“Us?” Tyrese shoved one of Giannis’ arms away. “What’s with the mind games?”

“I’m not messing with you,” Giannis said firmly. “Just thought you could use a real man in your life.”

Tyrese froze. Oh, hell no. “The fu–”

Giannis held him back with one hand on his waist. “Relax.”

“No! I fucking won’t, Giannis.” Tyrese slapped the hand that was wrapped around his waist. It only tightened. “Why would you say that shit? Do you want me to hit you? ‘Cause I’ll do it. Oh, I’m gonna beat your ass. I don’t give a fuck about how tall you are.”

Giannis was laughing. “Man, Dame was right.”

Tyrese frowned immediately at the mention of Damian Lillard. “What the hell did he say?”

“You talk crazy but you haven’t made a single move.”

“Maybe because I was fucking raised right!” Tyrese shouted. “I ain’t gonna hit anyone, not even if you’re an asshole. Tell Dame to fuck off.” Tyrese remembered Dame’s ACL tear and felt guilty, eyes widening with shame. “Uh, and to take care,” he added lamely.

“Cute,” Giannis said. “You can tell him yourself.”

“Get your hands off of me,” Tyrese said. “And ain’t a damn thing cute about me. I’m a grown ass man.”

Giannis gently pushed Tyrese so he stumbled back and fell on his ass. “Ok. Grown ass man.”

“What?” Tyrese asked from his position on the floor. “You gonna step on me now? That where we’re at? The cameras go off and you go full-Greek Freak?”

“Your cheeks are so red,” Giannis said.

“And your face is so punchable,” Tyrese shot back. He pushed himself back up. “Unbelievable.” 

He took a second to gather himself and said, “Ok. I’m gonna go home now. Gonna celebrate, ‘cause, you know. I just beat your ass.”

Giannis didn’t bat an eye.

“How are you gonna celebrate? What are you gonna do?”

“It’s been a while for you, huh.”

Giannis shrugged. “You gonna give all your teammates lap dances?”

“Whaaat? We ain’t cheap! I’d be paying for that shit.”

“Yeah. I know you drive a hard fee.” (Implication: Tyrese would be the one dancing for money.)

“So, what are you gonna do,” Tyrese shot back, “Now that you lost? You gonna cry about it?”

“No,” Giannis replied, sounding annoyingly calm. “One of my competitors just showed up at my place for the sole purpose of amusing me and righting his wrongs. Nothing to cry about.”

“Ooook. Don't let me take up any more of your time, then.”

“You gonna miss me?” Giannis teased. “Now that you gotta go and get your ass kicked in Ohio?”

“I’m gonna miss Dame more than I miss you,” Tyrese said. “I thought he was annoying, but boy. You are on a whole ‘nother level. I see where he gets it.”

“Wanna take a part of me with you?” Giannis said suddenly.

Tyrese laughed. “You gonna give me that jersey?”

“Maybe. You want it to keep you company on the road?”

“Wanna sell it,” Tyrese said. “Maybe post a free giveaway.”

“You just have to ask,” Giannis whispered. “I’d come with you.”

“That a joke? Last thing I need is for your ass to bring all the negative vibes courtside. Go to Cancun.”

“I’m serious, Hali. You just have to think it. You don’t even have to say it.”

“Do not come,” Tyrese said firmly. “I better not catch you courtside. Forget pops. We’re gonna have words.”

For the briefest moment, Tyrese’s body pressed against Giannis’s. “If you want something, you gotta ask for it.”

Wow. He is such a tease, Giannis thought.

It made Giannis want to push Tyrese until he begged for it.

Somehow, Giannis got Tyrese to stay several more hours (Tyrese was never good at saying no to stuff like that). They both ended up squished together on Giannis’ tiny hotel coach.

“Brokeass couch,” Tyrese commented.

Giannis didn’t reply. He just draped one of his legs over Tyrese’s lap.

“Dude. The coffee table is right there.”

“I like it better over here.”

“Pause.” Tyrese chuckled. “You’re talking about another man’s lap.”

Giannis pushed down a bit. “Yeah?”

Tyrese groaned a bit. “Damn, I am not drunk enough for this shit.”

“This your way of asking for drinks?”

“Free shots? Hell yeah.”

The champagne remained off to the side, forgotten. 

Giannis swaggered off to the minifridge and poured them both a shot. Soon enough, he got Tyrese to try matching his pace.

When they were a few shots in, Giannis chuckled. “You a lightweight?”

“Shut up. I know how to drink,” Tyrese said, but his face was already giving him away. Giannis traced his jaw and watched as it got even more red.

“Man.” But Tyrese leaned into it a bit, allowing Giannis to cup his face. “Let me guess. No bitches?”

“Got one right here.”

Tyrese raised an eyebrow. “You do this with all the point guards or is it just me.”

“Oh, Hali. Just you.”

“Aight. Wait, am I dreaming or some shit? Is this even real?”

“Your wet dream.”

Tyrese began to laugh. “You don’t even know how I act in bed and you’re treating me like this?” He began to lick the shot glass, staring directly at Giannis while he did it. 

Giannis was a bit surprised at Tyrese’s boldness, but not completely shocked. After all, the notion of players sleeping with one another in the League wasn’t exactly foreign to him.

“There isn’t any more drink in that glass, Hali.”

“Fill me up, then,” Tyrese said.

“You want it? Think you can handle it?”

“Huh? Yeah. Duh.”

“Say that one more time.”

“Duh?”

“No. Your request.”

“More drink?”

“No, say it how you said it before.”

“I didn’t say that?”

“Nope.”

“Eh. More drink please,” Tyrese said, holding out his glass.

Giannis remained firm, refusing to let it go. “I said, say it again.”

“I don’t remember what I said,” Tyrese said.

“Starts with ‘fill.’”

“And it ends with fuck you,” Tyrese said.

Giannis laughed. “You’re so feisty. In every way.”

Tyrese lightly banged his shot glass on the table. “C’mon, Giannis. Fill me up.”

Instantly, Giannis pinned him down against the couch.

Tyrese was just looking up at him, slightly dazed. He whined softly.

“Giannis…c’mon.”

Giannis licked his lips and watched as Tyrese’s eyes tracked the movement.

Then, Giannis leaned in and reached past Tyrese to grab his glass. He laughed.

Tyrese was breathing hard.

“Your dad needs to lock you up,” Giannis teased.

Tyrese looked super flustered. He blinked and tugged at Giannis’s t-shirt.

“Lock up who?”

“You are…what do they call it?”

“White girl wasted,” Tyrese whisper-yelled. He giggled.

Giannis didn’t usually get to see Tyrese giggle so up close.

“Hey. Why’d you bodycheck me that one time on court?” Tyrese randomly asked.

Giannis scoffed. “I never did that.”

“You totally did, though. I was getting out of your way and shit, too.” Funnily enough, Tyrese was now grabbing onto Giannis’ arm.

“Well, I’m sure if I bodychecked you, you were in my way. I’m a big guy. I take up space.”

Tyrese pouted. “Leave some for the rest of us. And you don’t need that much space. You totally bodychecked me. Slammed me into the floor for no damn reason.” Tyrese began to laugh.

“You flopped.”

“I never flop.”

“And I never foul.”

Tyrese was blinking down at his phone, squinting at the notifications. “Damn. There was totally a victory party today. But I bet we could still make it, though.”

“We? I'm invited?” There was a hint of amusement in Giannis' voice.

Hali waved a hand dismissively at him. “I get a plus one. Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“You ain’t gonna invite your pops?”

Hali half-heartedly threw his body weight at Giannis. “Stop talking about my pops. Making me sober up.”

“What, you got curfew?”

“Nah. I’m just missing like a million surprise parties. ‘Cause I’m such a superstar, and all.”

“You don’t seem to be in a hurry.”

Tyrese leaned back and stretched out his legs. “You ain’t letting me go. You like having me here.”

“It does soften the blow a bit,” Giannis admitted. “Having a pretty point guard in my crib.”

Tyrese laughed. “I’m just imagining you sittin’ here, getting drunk all by yourself.”

“Jerking off to pictures of you, I’m sure.”

Tyrese froze. “Huh?”

“You wish,” Giannis said.

“You better not have pictures of me.”

“Oh, I don’t. Only the thousands I took of you today. Want me to send ‘em to the news outlets?”

Tyrese reached out and grabbed his phone. “Gimme. I swear. Any pictures, mentions of my name, or tabs open, I’m gonna make so much fun of you.”

For some reason, the most recent search was “Tyrese Haliburton age.”

Tyrese’s jaw dropped. “Dude. You don’t know how old I am?”

Giannis shrugged. “15, 20?” He was clearly fucking around.

Tyrese’s jaw dropped further. “You’re playing. I ain’t even look like a teenager.”

His shocked expression morphed into a mischievous grin. 

“Ohmygosh Giannis,” Tyrese said, in an exaggeratedly high voice. “You’re my idol. I love you! I got a poster of you in my room. I’ve loved you since, like…high school. No, middle school! That was like, what, two years ago!” 

Giannis was not reacting at all. He was stone-faced.

“What?” Tyrese teased. He leaned in, amused. “You not into that?”

Giannis just shook his head slowly, like he was trying not to smile.

Tyrese kept going, emboldened. “Giannis! Giannis! During my rookie years, I only watched your highlights. I wanted to be you. I idolized you so hard. I thought about you before bed every night.” Hali rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Damn. You really thought I was some clueless rook.”

Giannis was weirdly turned on by the idea of Tyrese idolizing him. “Was that you during your rookie years?”

“What, last year?” Tyrese teased. “Yeah, last year, it was baaaaaad. I couldn’t even look at you.”

Tyrese threw his head back and openly laughed. “C’mon Giannis. Get me something to drink. I’m underaged, but I’ll drink for you,” he said, moaning fakely.

Giannis was staring intensely at him.

Giannis said, “Did you just moan?”

Hali’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. “I’m a rookie,” he said cautiously. “I don’t know any better.”

“Oh, you know better.”

Tyrese observed Giannis’s stone-cold expression and quickly said. “Giannis, you know I didn’t mean it.” He crossed his legs and sat up a bit. Awkward. “Damn. I was just playing.” Tyrese’s hands were held up in a placating gesture like he thought Giannis was going to drive right through him, like they were on the court.

“You know everyone loves your game. Honest. Ain’t ‘cause they wanna…you know. We respect you,” Tyrese rambled, as if trying to soothe whatever he had triggered in Giannis.

All Giannis could think was: He just moaned my name, and it was untouched. Unprompted.

“You’re dirty, Haliburton,” he said. “None of that pure act you put on for the media.”

Tyrese flushed. “Ayo. I can leave,” he said, getting up unsteadily. “Didn’t mean to…ruffle any feathers.”

“No, no, no. Continue showing me young Hali having an orgasm over me.”

Tyrese relaxed a bit, but frowned. “Ok, to clear this up, I was definitely not following you as a rookie,” he said. “I was busy with my own shit.”

“Really? Because that seemed oddly specific.”

Hali rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, which was such a tell. “I didn’t mean it,” he repeated. He was refusing to look at Giannis.

“I’ll give you something to moan about, Hali.”

Tyrese’s jaw dropped.

“What? You can dish it but you can’t take it?”

Tyrese jumped up. “Giannis. You’re fucked up.” Tyrese was shaking his head. “I mean, maybe enough drinking tonight, buddy.”

“But you’re just starting to open up.”

Tyrese let out a strangled sound. “Ok. I don’t know if this is a cultural thing, but…you play way too much.”

“Oh, I know.”

Tyrese said bluntly, “Brooo. I’ve been ignoring it for your sake, but you’re acting like you actually wanna…uh, if you know you know.”

“Acting like what?”

Tyrese looked at him like you know damn well, but continued. “Like…you’re sad and horny. And you wanna fuck,” Tyrese said.

Giannis mimicked Tyrese’s moan from earlier. “That kind of sad and horny?”

“Damn, let it go,” Tyrese said. 

“It just happened. You just gave it to me.”

“I was totally joking and you know that.”

“But do you know that?”

“Um. Ok. Sorry I moaned your name as a joke. Goddamn.”

“Next time, do it properly.”

Tyrese had to make a joke about that. “Hmm. I don’t know. That was my first time.” He did his best impression of a girly moan. “But it felt soooo good.” His finger was dangling from his bottom lip.

He flushed. Fuuuuck. “Imma go now.”

Giannis was on him instantly, his hand resting between Tyrese’s thighs. “And what was that?”

“That was your mom,” Tyrese said dumbly.

Giannis didn’t even blink. His hand remained sandwiched between Tyrese’s thighs. Hali looked like he was overheating.

“What was that?” Giannis repeated.

“I know. I know.” Tyrese’s voice was really high-pitched. It actually sounded amusingly like the fake voice. “I-it was another bad–" He gulped. "–joke. Sue me. I mean, don’t actually. I’m really sorry.”

“All talk and no bite,” Giannis said. “What did I say?” His hand was still there.

Tyrese’s eyes were wide. “Giannis. I said I was sorry.”

“You ain’t sorry. You said that and then gave the performance of your life.”

Tyrese whined a little. “I’m just a guy,” he said.

“Do it again.”

“Huh?”

“C’mon. Do it again. See what happens.”

“Yo, you do not need to be threatening me right now. I said that I was sorry.”

Giannis’s other hand pressed against Tyrese’s bare side. Tyrese shivered a little.

“Come on.”

“W-what? I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Giannis’s face was super close, his eyes dark. “Act as if I’m not here. Then I’ll let it go. And you can leave. I promise, Hali. But only if it’s good.”

“If you ain’t here, I’d be sleeping,” Tyrese said carefully.

Giannis laughed. “In my bed.”

“No. On the floor, obviously.”

“Seriously, Hali. Go on.”

“I don’t know what you want,” Tyrese whined.

“I’m telling you very clearly, baby.”

“You ain’t acting like you want me to stay.”

“Then do it and get out.”

“I’d sleep! C’mon, man. I’m exhausted.”

Giannis said in a low voice, “Hali. Do it.”

“I-I’d t-think about…um…talking with you,” Tyrese mumbled. 

“How? What would you be doing?”

“Laying there,” Tyrese said.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“No talking to my imaginary ghost like in the other scenarios?”

“Other scenarios ain’t real.”

“Oh, this is. All you gotta do is pretend that I don’t exist, and you’re in your bed. Like usual.”

Hali realized there was no getting out of this. In a very vulnerable voice, he said, “Giannis. If I do this, you gotta let me go. And you can’t judge me for it because you asked.”

“Go on.”

Hali squeezed his eyes shut. He slowly moved his hips a bit. “Mmm…Giannis…I need more.” Then he stopped. “Lemme go.”

“That moan wasn’t genuine.”

“I feel awkward as fuck. Excuse me if I’m not turned on.”

Giannis stroked his back. “You shouldn’t be. I’m not judging.” His hand was still between Hali’s thighs. Hali had started getting used to it, but it was moving up and down a bit.

“What? You’re only tough when I say not to do it? You need me to touch you for you to do as I say?”

Giannis started moving his hand up and down.

“Ah!” Tyrese covered his mouth.

“You’re so shy right now.”

Tyrese groaned. “Awww. You ain’t supposed to see this.”

“What, this is secret? You like this with all your girls?”

Tyrese blushed. “None of my girls are 7 foot.”

“I’ll save your sanity if you do the act one more time. I’ll even give you tips on how to seduce someone,” Giannis said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Ain’t no need for any of that,” Tyrese mumbled.

“Do it.”

“Ugh, I can’t.” Tyrese was hiding his face in his hands. “It’s so embarrassing!”

“You’re acting like a girl right now. If you really didn’t mean it, it should be easy.”

“Fine. But you’re so weird for this.” Tyrese moaned Giannis’s name, amping it up a bit. “Oh, Giannis. When I see you, I just get so horny I can’t think straight. You make me so weak and I want you to protect me and hold me down with your big strong–”

He stopped.

Giannis spread his legs. Haliburton gasped.

“I’m here. I’m right here, princess.”

“I did it. Let me go!”

Giannis was tracing Tyrese’s thigh more, hand creeping up his shorts.

“Wow. looking really pretty down here.”

Hali flushed. “Giannis,” he said urgently. “You can’t do this to me.”

“Why?” The hand continued its ascent up Tyrese's shorts.

“You don’t like me,” Tyrese said. “Remember? I just…I just kicked your team out of play-offs. A-and you don’t like my team and you don’t like my dad and–”

He cut himself off with his own moan (Giannis was now pressing him into the couch).

“None of that matters,” Giannis said. “Because I like you. Anyways, you’re like their special little prize. I'm no loser. I won it all tonight.”

Tyrese was completely flushed by now.

Giannis was gently tugging off Haliburton’s shorts.

“Giannis, are you actually gonna–”

“Shh. Sit down like you’re in a dream and take it. Turn around, Hali.”

“You just took off my–”

“Turn around.”

“Fuck. I don't wanna do this shit,” Tyrese blurted out.

“Oh, really?" Giannis teased. "You’re not into that?”

“I ain’t easy.”

Giannis laughed. He shifted closer so they were pressing closer against each other. “Oh, Hali. Not easy? You come into my place, moaning my name and staying for hours. Think we’re past easy. You’re easy for me.”

“I can’t!” Hali whined.

“Gimme one good reason why we can’t fuck right now,” Giannis pressed, voice low and seductive.

Tyrese looked down. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassed. “I’m gonna get attached. I just know it.”

Inside, Giannis’s arousal grew tenfold. The vulnerability in Tyrese’s voice was stirring something deep inside him. “Hali. I’ll let you say all sorts of sappy shit while we fuck, if you want. And I’ll reciprocate it. Get attached all you want.”

“But I don’t trust you,” Tyrese blurted out.

Giannis' hands froze. “You don’t trust me?”

“You scare me,” Tyrese admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He was shaking slightly under Giannis' touch, vulnerability on full display.

Giannis placed a thumb on his chin and gently held it up, forcing Tyrese to meet his gaze.

“Feel like you’re just gonna use me and leave me,” Tyrese said in a small voice, his eyes searching Giannis’ for any sign of sincerity. “You ain’t gonna take care of me. You don’t even like me.”

“Hate to say it, but I think I do," Giannis said, cracking a small grin. "We're two very likeable guys, Tyrese. Think it’s already too late.”

Hali banged his head into Giannis’s chest, feeling a mixture of frustration and longing coursing through him. “Shuddup. What I meant to say is that I'm not ready to fuck. At least, um, not right now.”

Surprisingly, Giannis nodded and moved away, giving Tyrese some space to gather himself.

“Ok. You wanna cuddle, then?” He asked, voice softer than Tyrese had ever heard it.

Hali’s jaw dropped open in surprise. Slowly, he nodded.

Seeing Hali all vulnerable also brought out a soft side of Giannis. “C’mere, baby.”

Hali shifted over.

Giannis immediately began rubbing circles into his ass. Tyrese turned his head to protest and Giannis just kissed him again. “This is how I cuddle.”

Tyrese laughed. “You're into some freaky shit.”

“That’s good for you, then.” 

Tyrese snuggled back into him. “Just don’t get too turned on. I ain’t helping with that.”

Giannis began to rub his hands up and down Tyrese’s arms, gently kissing his neck. “I like having you like this," he murmured. "All soft and open for me.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”

Tyrese shifted slightly in Giannis’s arms, one leg slipping in between Giannis’s. His skin was still warm from earlier, and his breath had started to even out, slow and rhythmic.

“Falling asleep on me?”

Tyrese murmured something incoherent, then turned his face into Giannis’s chest. “If I say yes, you gonna kick me out?”

Giannis chuckled. “Nah. Might just carry you to the bed.”

Tyrese didn’t answer right away. “You can do that?”

“I’m strong. Thought you’d noticed.”

“Mmm.” Tyrese was quiet for a long beat. And then, “You really serious about all that? All that stuff you were saying?”

“You mean the part where I said you’re pretty, or the part about liking you?”

Tyrese looked up at him, blinking slowly. “Both.”

Giannis ran a hand down his back. “Both,” he repeated.

There was another pause. Then: “So, what now?”

Giannis shrugged, his hand still tracing lazy circles. “We sleep. We wake up. Maybe I steal you away from Indiana and take you back with me to Milwaukee.”

Tyrese laughed, soft and breathless. “Pops would murder you.”

“Worth it.”

Tyrese exhaled softly. “Didn’t think tonight would go like this.”

Giannis’s hand stilled on his back, then resumed its slow, soothing circles. “Me neither,” he admitted. “But I like it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Tyrese let himself sink into the warmth of Giannis’s embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I really don’t know what happens next,” Tyrese said quietly, voice muffled against Giannis’s shirt.

Giannis pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Tyrese’s head. “You don’t have to know. Not tonight.”

Tyrese smiled, small and genuine. “You always this chill after losing?”

Giannis chuckled, the sound rumbling through both of them. “Only when I win something better.”

Tyrese rolled his eyes, but didn’t pull away. “Corny.”

“Maybe. But you’re still here.”

Tyrese closed his eyes, finally letting the exhaustion catch up to him. “Yeah. You bet, big guy.”

As sleep began to pull him under, Giannis held onto Tyrese a little tighter, as if to promise that neither of them would ever have to let go.

And for tonight, that was enough.