Summary: Jack wants more from James
Note: Follow up to Visiting Hours. Written for the fanfic100 prompt "Not enough."
He stays home for a week straight. No more job -- not after he’d just walked off with no explanation -- and no more school. No one needs him anywhere, so he just sits in his room, drinking and listening to the radio.
He knows he’ll have to go out eventually, find a new job. His aunt’s patience is wearing thin but she knows talking to him is pointless. If he’s proud of anything, it’s that no one’s ever been able to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.
It’s stupid, he knows, wallowing like this. There’s no competition for his thoughts, from the words and images chasing themselves in his brain. His hand tightens around the beer bottle as he remembers Jack’s dad, telling him, although not in quite so many words, that he was dirt.
His finger still throbs dully, and the pain is actually a welcome distraction. It’s something to focus on, like the hardness of the bottle. He can hold the bottle OK, he can drive if he wants, he can do just about everything. Everything but jerk off.
And God, he wants to. Just wants to give in, just think of Jack and try to remember the feel of his hands on him. But it’s no good with his right hand and he gives up. And part of him, perversely, doesn’t want to feel any pleasure just now. He taps the metal splint against the bottle, savoring the little jolt of pain it brings.
He’s got the house to himself so the radio is cranked up as loud as his speakers will allow. The blanket of noise is soothing. It keeps everything else out, helps him pretend there’s nothing out there beyond these four walls. Except he keeps hearing an extra noise, under the music. The sound persists, so he turns the stereo down.
There’s definitely someone banging at the front door. He gets up reluctantly, because whoever it is, they’ve been out there for a while already and they’re clearly not going away.
He opens the front door, blinking at the sunshine and he almost slams it shut again because Jack is standing there on his doorstep.
“Hey,” Jack says with a tentative smile, his attempt at being casual given the lie by that guarded, worried look in his eyes.
“You’re out,” James says, nervously edging the door back and forth an inch or so between his hands while he tries to decide whether to keep it open or closed.
“Yeah. Few days ago.”
“So you got in your brand new car and...”
“No, no new car,” Jack shakes his head and drops his eyes. “I can’t drive yet with this arm and my pain meds and all.”
James peers past him and he looks again at the truck in the driveway. Behind the wheel is the redhaired guy from the hospital. One of Jack’s friends.
“You had someone drive you here?” James sputters in disbelief.
“Yeah.” Jack seems embarrassed, at least. “It’s just my friend Marc. He’s OK.”
“Then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” James snarls and goes to swing the door shut. Jack sticks his cast into the doorframe and James stops short.
“Dammit, what is wrong with you, Shephard? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Jack steps back then, the hurt registering on his face, and James takes the opportunity to slam the door, hard.
He waits, but there’s no sound from outside, until he hears the crunch of gravel. The truck is pulling away and he watches it go from the living room window. He sinks onto the couch because suddenly his legs feel like rubber. Damn it, what was Jack thinking? If only he’d just turned up on his own. James is still trying to think if he’d have acted differently, if he’d have pulled Jack inside and then ... movement outside catches his eye.
Jack is outside, pacing back and forth on the other side of the door. He looks back at the driveway. The truck is gone, but Jack is still there. He doesn’t know if he’s more mad or relieved to see that he hasn’t gone. He runs to the door and flings it open. “What the fuck?” he starts to say but Jack isn’t taking any chances. He’s inside the door and kissing him before he can get the words out.
He’d forgotten the rush he gets when Jack touches him, how his blood roars through him as his mouth takes hold of his. He sighs and gives into it at first, but then he remembers the open door.
James takes a step backward and Jack’s hands are twining in his hair, trying to keep him from moving away. He shoves Jack away and they’re both panting. James walks past him and slams the door shut. “You can’t just ...”
“What?” Jack’s leaning against the wall now, shoulders hunched defensively.
“You can’t just come here and act like everything is OK.” James is mad now. “Because it’s not.”
“Why isn’t it OK?” Jack’s voice is low and there’s that throb in in that gets to James, if he’ll admit it. “Why can’t it be?”
“Well, for one thing, your dear Daddy told me to stay the fuck away from you. Doesn’t want his Golden Boy tarnishing himself with dirt like me.”
The color drains from Jack’s face and he looks scared. “He said that?”
James shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. “Yeah, not in so many words, but yeah.”
Jack is staring down at his feet. “He had no right to say that to you. When...?”
“At the hospital,” James sighs. He holds up his hand. “Right after I got this beauty. He fixed it up and gave me a little lecture into the bargain.”
“You broke it? How?”
“I got mad, I broke it. No big deal. Hell, Prep, I don’t care what he said,” James shrugs. “It’s not like it changes anything.”
“What do you mean?” The hurt look flits across Jack’s face again and for a second, James wonders what he ever saw in him. He’s too sensitive, too ... raw. He’s tired, suddenly, of wondering what Jack thinks and if his delicate feelings are getting bruised. He just wants this all to end.
“Look, just go home,” James sighs. “I can drive you, if you want. You shouldn’t be here.” He’s leaning against the opposite wall and the hallway has never seemed so wide.
“So this is because of what my father said? Because he’s an idiot. Yeah, he told me he doesn’t think you’re a ‘suitable’ friend, but fuck him, you know?” Jack says hotly, words rushing out in a burst.
“Jack, he knows.”
“No ... no, he doesn’t. He can’t,” Jack says, shaking his head firmly, lips pressed tight together. “He would have said... if he thought...”
“Yeah,” James says quietly. “If ... he’d go nuts. So you’d better go before he knows you’re here.”
Instead, Jack walks toward him. “You’re worried about me? I can handle myself.” He puts his hand out to James’s face and James bats it away.
“Jesus Christ, Jack!” James yells, even though Jack is so close he could whisper. “I’m not going to be the reason he fuckin’ smacks you around next time.”
Jack flinches. “So this is about protecting me? He doesn’t ever need a reason.”
He stands there blinking, absorbing what Jack has said, trying to think what it’s like for him. At least his own father can’t cause him any more damage now, he thinks and it’s the first time he’s ever thought of it like that. And, against his will, that rush of concern for Jack comes roaring back.
“I think this is about you protecting you, not me,” Jack says finally, voice low and raspy. “Because of...”
“Don’t.” James’s hands ball into fists at his sides and now he’s ready to hit Jack to stop him from saying anything else. “Just ... don’t.”
“None of it matters,” Jack is saying against his ear and the hot breath on his neck pulses through him. Jack leans in, pressing his body up against his and James doesn’t stop him. “They don’t matter to us.”
And James thinks he should be mad, he should fight, he should kick him out, but instead he tilts his head toward Jack and Jack’s mouth is on his again, his tongue thrusting possessively into him and he stops caring about the consequences.
“Missed you so much,” Jack is sighing when their mouths break apart. “When you came to see me...”
“Shhhh.” James takes Jack’s head in his heads and now he’s kissing him and Jack has him pressed so hard up against the wall he thinks they might break through it. Jack’s grinding into him and fuck he forgot how good this could feel. He groans into his mouth and he shuts off his brain. There’s only Jack and he can’t ever get enough of him.
They’re shuffling towards his bedroom now, Jack’s hand pulling up his shirt and running over his stomach, teasing the flesh above his jeans. They stumble into his room and fall onto his bed and now James is on top of Jack and he thrusts his hips into him and Jack arches up and his eyes go black and James growls and bends to bite at his neck.
Jack is still pushing up against him, hungry, impatient, but James stops when he sees the bruises still there. “You OK now?” James asks.
“Yeah, fine,” Jack mumbles and pulls him down.
But James struggles out of his grasp -- he’s only got him by the good arm -- and sits back.
“What?” Jack asks. When James doesn’t answer right away, he sits back up, reaching for him. “It’s OK, you won’t break me.”
“What about her?” James’s voice is cold. He can’t let it go, can’t stop picturing Jack with her, and his stomach twists at the memory.
Jack looks hurt, then angry. “She’s nothing, OK? How many times do I have to tell you?”
“How about until I believe you? She was at the hospital, Jack. I saw her.”
James sighs and closes his eyes. ”I know. I didn’t ask her to come.”
“Yeah? So you still seeing her or not?” He’s still straddling Jack and now he shifts his hips, grinding his crotch into Jack’s and Jack gasps in, head falling back.
“James.” His voices breaks and his eyes open. He doesn’t bother to conceal the hurt there. “You keep disappearing on me. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. What do you want me to do?”
“So you’re saying she was just...”
“Why were you drinking?” Jack demands, a vein in his neck throbbing angrily. “You’ve been drinking all day, haven’t you?”
”You drink. I drink. I fuck someone else. It doesn’t help does it?”
The words sting. James opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. Jack leans forward now, forehead resting on his cheek. “It doesn’t help because I just want you.”
He’s running his hand under James’s shirt again. “Can’t help it,” he sighs. His hand dips below James’s waistband and James stifles a whimper at his touch. His body tenses and then he relaxes into Jack, grinding into his hand, biting his lip.
Jack withdraws his hand and James sighs in protest. Jack’s trying to unbutton his fly but he’s only got one good hand and James goes to help him and then they’re both laughing because he’s fumbling too.
“How did you ever get these on?” Jack laughs and James is laughing so hard he’s almost choking because his throat is so tight. Finally they get James’s jeans off and then his shirt and then he pulls Jack’s shirt off, careful of his shoulder and his cast. He brushes his lips along his collarbone, the one that broke. Jack is loose and languid in his arms. He’s drinking in the feel of Jack’s skin against his again, memorizing the taste of his flesh, how his pulse feels in his neck as he kisses it.
“Jack,” he says once, softly, and Jack’s breath speeds up to hear it. There’s nothing else to say and so he’s traveling down Jack’s body, easing his jeans off. They come together desperately now that they’re both naked, Jack crawling over him like he’s trying to get inside him. He’s got Jack’s cock in his good hand now, the right one, and it feels awkward, almost like the first time, but he’s here and he can’t not touch him.
But Jack puts his hand over James’s. “No,” he says. “It’s no good now, is it?”
“What do you mean?” They’re whispering, so close together, he thinks maybe he doesn’t even need to say the words for Jack to hear him.
“Your left hand’s messed up, so’s my right.”
“So you want to stop?” James is getting impatient. What the fuck is Jack here for then?
“No. I want...” Jack licks his lips. “I want you to fuck me,” he says in a breathless rush. He’s watchful, waiting, nervous.
James just stares at him for a second. “Oh.” His heart does an odd flip flop. “I mean, there’s other things we can do. You don’t have to...”
Jack’s left hand is on his cock now, stroking, teasing, and James moans and shifts closer.
“I want to be part of you,” Jack is saying and the way his voice rasps in his throat gets to James almost as much as what he’s doing with his hand. “It’s not enough yet. I need more. I need it to be real.”
And then he’s kissing James, ardent, desperate, their bodies sliding together and James lets the idea take hold and spread like fire through him. “Please,” Jack says in that low voice again and James thinks he’s going to die before he’s even inside him. “I want you.”
“Yeah,” he whispers and rubs his hands down Jack’s back, and he’s shivering at his touch. He reaches over and fumbles in his nightstand drawer for the Vaseline and Jack moves with him. He looks serious, intent, as he takes the container out of his hand and James holds his breath as Jack’s fingers scoop some up and start rubbing it over his dick in long, slow, excruciating strokes. They both watch Jack’s hand at work and then Jack looks up at him under those dark eyelashes and James takes his head in his hands, plunging his tongue into his mouth like he’s trying to devour him.
Jack’s fingers are still playing over his cock and he knows he can’t wait. “Get on your stomach,” he whispers and Jack’s nervousness registers on his face for a second and then he just nods and rolls over, head falling to the side, hands splayed on the bed next to him.
He moves behind him and just takes in the sight of Jack lying there, naked, vulnerable, body spread out just for him. He’s his. James’s blood surges as he straddles him. He spreads Jack’s thighs, noting how he can’t conceal that slight tremble. He takes a gob of the Vaseline and rubs it over the pucker of Jack’s ass and he knows Jack’s holding his breath now.
“Relax,” he says softly. He bends down and kisses the small of his back and then he runs his hands over the firm cheeks of his butt, and damn, he’s never noticed what a fantastic ass Jack has before this. It’s all muscle and fuck, he’s never been harder in his life as he cups it in his hands.
Jack shivers again as he teases a finger over his opening. He eases it inside and Jack shifts under him with a sound between a whimper and a moan.
“James, please,” he begs and James takes his cock now and, holds himself over Jack for a second before he slides into him, just like that. Jack gasps and bucks up, driving James even deeper than he’d planned.
“Oh Christ, Jack,” he moans at how tight Jack is and then Jack clenches around him again and he has to put out a hand to brace himself. “Oh fuck," he can’t help saying over and over again as he moves within him, driving himself deeper.
With each thrust the sensation is more intense, the wave of pleasure shaking him harder. He leans over, changing the angle, getting lower and closer to Jack, needing every inch of their skin to be touching. Jack’s back is already slick with sweat and he moves on top of him, running his hands through his hair, swearing in his ear as Jack pushes back harder now and he thinks he’s going to die from it. “Fuck, Jack, fuck, God you feel so good,” he says and it occurs to him he should be saying something more original but his brain has kind of stopped working and all he can think of is just this -- how Jack feels and how it’s the best fucking thing in the world. Jack is his and nothing can ever change that now.
He’s already breathless, already so close, as he and Jack move together he can’t believe they’ve waited this long to do this, because God, everything else pales in comparison. It feels like Jack’s body is a flame, a hard, muscular ball of fire, and he’s on fire now too, the flames racing through him and wrapping around him in tight bands until he sees nothing but red. He tenses and then the fire bursts through him, exploding hot and fast under his skin. He’s being baptized in flame and light and heat and it’s so strong, so blinding, he thinks there won’t be anything left of him.
Jack’s name spills from his lips and then he collapses on top of him, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst from his chest. He pulls Jack closer to him, his good hand gripping his chest hard, because they’re still not close enough. When he gets his breath back, he’s biting along his neck, and each delicious shiver of Jack’s is being transmitted to his softening cock, still deep inside him.
“You OK?” he finally asks as the sweat on their bodies begin to cool.
“Yeah,” Jack says shakily, breath easing out of him like air out of a balloon.
“I ... did I hurt you?” James asks and he’s feeling like an idiot because if he did, it’s too late now. He pulls out and Jack lets out a small noise that could be pain.
But Jack rolls over to face him and he looks flushed and, he thinks, content. “It’s OK. It was ... intense. For you too?”
“God, yes,” James says, running his hand over his face, tracing over his cheekbones, his forehead, his lips. “Best fuckin’ sex of my life. I thought my heart was gonna stop.”
“Good,” Jack smiles and closes his eyes and suddenly he looks almost as frail as he did in the hospital.
“Fuck,” James brushes his hand gently over Jack’s tight-closed eyelids. “I did hurt, you didn’t I?”
“No... just tired suddenly,” Jack says, nestling closer. “I still get tired kind of easily.”
“Ok, just rest,” James says, playing his fingertips over his cheek, down to the just-healed collarbone. “Just stay here. As long as you want.”
“’k,” Jack murmurs sleepily. James gets up, careful not to disturb him and grabs a towel from a nearby chair. By the time he’s done cleaning up and crawls back into bed, Jack is out.
The room is bathed in a reddish light as the sun sets outside and it washes over Jack’s sleeping form. He watches until the light fades and he can’t see Jack anymore, until he can only feel the warmth of his body next to him and hear his deep, regular breaths.
He tries not to think about how he’s getting home or what will happen later. Right now, this moment, this is what he wants to remember. He knows it’s already slipping away but he fights off sleep so he can hang on to it a little longer.