by Zakarrie C
“Hmm, will you do that again…the fidgety thing?” His smile was pornoseraphic. If that wasn’t a word, a lexicographer had never met Phin. Jake’s hips twitched, entirely of their own volition. “Mmmore…”
Christ…they’d drill him through the bottom of the campervan. Jake wasn’t about to just…rut against Phin on the bloody floor, like the mangy mutt he was. He could not. Could he not? Might be the more pertinent question. His hips were in league with the devil dog.
Better a devil dog than a dogged dullard.
Jake had a horrible feeling that Phin might agree. Jack was far more…congenial company. Far better for Phin than Jake could ever be.
I think my brain just burped, y’might want to get it looked at.
I might be a bastard, but I’m not deluded. Worse than that; I believe it. Phin would choose you, and I know it.
Aside from the part where I can’t recall ‘choice’ being an option? Phin doesn’t do choosing. He said so. He wants, or he doesn’t. He wants you…and me. Simple.
Are you trying to drive me demented?
You’re managing that all on your own. Moove, you tetchy tosspot.
“Phin…”
“Please…?”
God, those eyes. They were more deadly than Jack. Jake screwed his own tight shut, dipped his head and took a deep, calming breath…which promptly proved the most Baldrick worthy of all cunning plans. Inhaling poppers would have been wiser than the concentrated hit of skin/sex/sweat that assaulted their senses.
Jake’s hips juddered, nudging his cock against the rapidly stiffening one beside it…a friction too far for temptation. He swallowed, a thick, meaty squelch of sound, as lurid as the lust lashing his system.
You thought ‘loins’ first. ’Fess up.
Bastard.
Odd that.
Jake…girded his loins and gave his hips an experimental twitch. “Fuck…”
“Really?” How the hell had Phin crammed so much hope into two syllables?
“No!” Jake damn near barked.
“Oh. You don’t want me…that way?” Words as steeped in sorrow as the scent that stabbed Jake in the guts. Higher.
“Yes! I mean, no…I just…can’t.”
“I-I don’t understand…I’m too muddled.” The dark wings of Phin’s brows crumpled, those eyes huge, imploring.
“Phin…I don’t just…want. I need you. Too Much,” Jake groaned through gritted teeth, seizing on the one phrase Phin would recognize as…a Trojan horse secreting so much more. Definitive.
“‘Too much, too soon’…?” Damn. Phin had trotted out another phrase drilled into his head too often to ‘do forgetting’. Jake hadn’t expected Phin to account for the fact it wasn’t directed his way and filter its significance out.
“No—in your terms—Too much. To be safe,” Jake clarified.
“Oh. Well, I’ve survived m’self. See, I’m not made of china.”
Oh, but he’d break just as easily. Phin pinned on an expression best described as ta-dah, sorted. It didn’t quite reach those eyes. Slow? He saw more than most. Perhaps in a less…pedestrian way; Phin was pure instinct. Stripped of artifice. Emotion flayed back to bone. Jack had recognized as much long before Jake caught up.
Too much crap in the way, that’s why.
So, what if I trip then, smart arse? Shatter his hips, crush his ribs, puncture a lung, snap his neck…
Ye of little faith…
In myself? Merited. How the hell do I explain the inexplicable?
Tell him the truth.
Fuck no.
“I know you’re not made of china…it’s me I don’t trust, I-I can’t explain, whatever I say will sound—”
“If you tell me the truth, that’s how it will sound. Fibs tie knots. That’s why peeps make my head hurt…I have to stare too hard. Picking at knots.”
“Some truths are…impossible to air.”
“Air…or share? With me?” Phin sighed. For the wrong reasons. Crap.
“Impossible, literally.”
“You should forget to do listening to ‘impossible’. How can it be, when it’s your truth?” Phin frowned, lifting a forefinger to brush the space between Jake’s brows. “Jack…why are you so sad?” Words as silken as the stroke.
“Sad? Because I’m fucked up…and I’ve fucked this up too.”
“You haven’t fucked anything. I’d better not say ‘Sadly’, that wouldn’t be seemly. You’re a bit befuddling but then, it is very hard to do concentrating.” An illustrative twitch of hips was followed by a question from so far left-field, Jake wouldn’t have seen it coming with a wide-angle lens. Let alone while blinded by extreme close up. “Are you going home now?”
“D’you want me to?” Jake wondered. That mattered more than ‘why’.
“Not a jot…unless I’m making you sad.”
“No…you’re not. That’s all on me…” Jake sighed, bowing to the inevitable. “I don’t want to leave. But I’m not taking your bed.”
“Will you take half of it?” Phin’s beam was the burst of winter sunlight breaking through clouds. Jake had no choice. Other than four legs or two.
“Yeah…”
“I’m very glad…Jack? Um…” Another twitch. “That can’t be comfy…”
Jack? Seemed prepared to be patient, for the moment. As long as they were staying put.
Happy now?
I’d be a helluva lot happier if you were ‘comfy’.
Y’such a Gent.
“…And my bum has gone numb,” Phin added, with a wriggle. “It is very late…I should take my tablets. Can we go to bed now?” Big brown orbs blinked up at Jake, innocence personified. Lethal.
“Sure…” Jake planted his palms on the floor to push himself up. Froze. Roll off, or spring up?
Horizontal to vertical in the blink of an eye? You might as well just shift and be done with it, numb nuts.
I hate it when you start making sense. Roll, it is…
*
The moment Phin had clambered up and pottered off to the loo, Jake bounded to his feet and stood for a moment, staring up at the alcove.
You’d rather be dead than deny yourself this, admit it.
If only that was the deal on the table, I’d take it. Rather than risk the exact opposite.
Jake bent his knees a little, then sprang lightly onto the bed to land in a crouch. There wasn’t much head room, to say the least.
Good job we’ve already covered that, then.
What the fuck? Forget it. Not happening.
Is, too.
I’m not budging. No condoms. No lube.
Aside from the fact you haven’t had sex in forever…use your pea-brain. It might not be as flexible as my spine, but still…
Christ. Was that visual really necessary?
Some of us don’t have hands, just sayin’. But I’m feeling benevolent…I’ll spare you a truth you cannot deny. For fear of being smited, if nowt else.
Thanks.
Did I detect a smidge of sarcasm? Stop overthinking everything, you tedious tosspot…you’re driving me demented. I never once mentioned mating. You’ll find yourself rutting rocks on the way home if you keep this up. Literally.
What the—Mating!?
A snigger from the backseat was the only response. From whence I’m supposed to accept counsel? Next stop, a therapy session with Dr. Lecter.
Still, it was with an inner and outer huff of contentment that Jake crawled beneath the covers. Strewth. Cocooned in purgatory. The scent wafting from the duvet had all-but clobbered him with a breeze block on landing. Now he was swaddled in it. And a sheen of sweat. Jake lay, flat on his back, staring sightlessly at the roof. Every sense aflame with awareness, anticipation coiled hot, heavy in his gut. Ravenous.
“Hiya.” A tufty head poked into the alcove, followed by far too much of the rest of Phin. Still starkers.
“Hiya y’self,” Jake grinned, turning onto his side and backing up a bit while Phin manoeuvred his extravagan
t self into bed. A feat accomplished with sharp elbows and (too) much wriggling.
“Oops, sorry…” Phin whispered, once settled to his satisfaction. There was barely a breath of air between their bodies. Heat shimmered in the sliver of space like a force-field. It was akin to being microwaved with a banquet-batch of cinnamon cookies. Drizzled with sex, marinated in naked need. Laden with longing. Longing? That was the least of it. Jake’s veins were ablaze with liquid lust.
He was afraid to speak, for fear of shattering the silence. As if that would be an act of violence…like plunging his fist through a stained-glass window. Instead, he lay, listening to Phin’s heartbeat tattoo his own.
“Jack…?”
“Hmm?”
“G’night.” The hollowness of lost hope assaulted Jake’s senses. He could taste it. His entire involuntary nervous system spasmed in response, thrusting him forward in a breath-snatching slam of skin that rolled Phin onto his back. A whimper caressed the curve of the neck Jake buried his nose in before inhaling; long, slow, deep, drinking Phin in. Heavenscent.
A rush of relief was the spark that scarfed the trail of dynamite.
23. Phin
“G’night.” Phin sighed, hoping it didn’t sound as…bereft as he felt.
He was a bit miffed with himself, because Jack was Here. In Phin’s bed, beside him. Almost naked. Wanting more was being greedy. Too Needy. Needy was not sexy at all, he knew this…which was very probably why Jack didn’t want him. Despite his gallant attempts to be kind about it.
So kind, that he’d even claimed to want, no need, Phin Too Much…and not in the too-much-too-soon sort of way deemed so unseemly. That was too befuddling to fathom. If Phin wanted something too much, he couldn’t do concentrating on anything else. At all. That tended to make folk huffy, so he did try to pretend otherwise. Peace o’mind was precious…and big fat fibs called white lies don’t count. Those are being considerate.
Jack had snaffled Phin’s robe when he’d needed something to wear, so why hadn’t he taken what was being offered so freely, if he wanted Phin? Too freely, was p’raps the problem. Phin was supposed to do ‘playing hard to get’ to tickle someone’s fancy, wasn’t he? It was a bit bloomin’ late to start now, even if he knew how the bejeezus to go about it. Lying-starkers-in-bed-with-a-stiffy didn’t seem the most subtle of starts, on the whole. Even with all the will in the world (and Phin possibly had a smidge too much, according to…most), he couldn’t sheer-force-of-will Jack to want him.
He was still pondering this when Jake surged forwards all-of-a-sudden. Snatching Phin’s breath away in a literal and metaphorical manner so excessive it would have been swoon-worthy, had Phin been standing up. Rather than flat on his back in his birthday suit beneath a nearly naked and surely needy Jack. Unless, he was smuggling a substantial cosh about his person, perchance Phin got too frisky, despite having ensured that he could scarce move. Too squished by the wondrous weight of Jake’s body and barnstormed by the alacrity of his ambush.
This…was all Phin had ever craved; a passion so intense it could do silencing the white noise shriek of his senses…sweep aside the itchy insistence on more with a lust that scorned its very existence.
Jake’s breath fluttered across Phin’s neck, followed by lips that did locking there. Shivers sparked along Phin’s spine, scorching through his system, leaving him buttery boned and breathless and certain that there was no more than this. Than him. The heady suction tugged far lower down, even as it dragged the blood to the surface. Phin could feel the bruise blossoming and thrilled to it. Mayhaps as a keepsake…but mostly? Jake seemed intent on marking Phin—which was somehow sexier than tasting himself in the kiss—that Jake wanted to.
Had Jake done telling the truth, after all? If he had, then why was a lie lurking in its shadows? Does it matter, when Jake is here and hard and oh, so heavenly heavy?
All Phin had ever wanted was splayed across his naked self, seeping sex from every pore. A man strong enough to sweep the scratchy aside…with an appetite to match its too muchness. Phin had done waiting a very long time for Jake. Sooo, it was a tad likely that Phin might crave sex stuff as excessively as his favourite food. In a too-full-for-anything-else sort of fashion.
Phin’s spine was hell-bent on arching off the bed but that did tilting his bum back—away—the wrong way. When Phin tried shoving his hips upwards, Jake made a sound so rumbly it vibrated against Phin’s chest. He couldn’t help but suspect that splaying his palm a smidge lower might help matters, so Phin did sliding it down to the small of Jake’s back, and pressed…yesss. But blimey. The base of Jake’s spine was so concave that the convex curve beneath was mind-boggling.
A swift flick through his freeze-frame stash coshed Phin with the fact he’d never actually seen Jack from behind. Or even in profile, sans snaffled bathrobe. He’d caught glimpses here ’n’ there as Jack moved around, but you can’t ask someone to stand still so’s you can stare at their tush. That wasn’t po-lite at all.
Jack’s waistband was very in the way. Phin was starting to really hate Jake’s pants. That was a bit of a fib, in time-scale terms—and severity of dislike ones—but loathed them with every fibre of his being possibly counted as a smidge excessive.
P’raps…Phin edged his little finger under the elastic and stilled, breath abated, but Jake was intent on the tantalizing trickle of his tongue across Phin’s collarbone and didn’t seem to mind, so… Almost before Phin knew it, his palm was splayed across the most magnificent mound of muscle imaginable. As taut ’n’ tight as its skin was silken. Crikey…Phin’s throat may have made a racket that suggested it was smuggling a strangled cat.
“Jake…please…” The craving felt as if it was going to choke him; Phin could barely do catching his breath. The next bit was so brain blitzing it felt a helluva lot like Jake’s pants vamoosed. Or combusted. Phin was too bedazzled to tell the difference. One second, there they were. The next, Phin’s cock was crushed to a scorch of rigid flesh as hot, heavy, as the breath at his ear.
“Phinngh…sstop me…hurtchoo—” Grit-strewn gibberish that cut off on a raspy gasp, but Phin had forgotten to do listening, so he didn’t miss much. “Promise…” Jake groaned, dragging in a jagged breath while bracing his forearms on the bed.
“’Kay…” That was a teeny fib. Jake let his head fall forwards in a tickle of hair and gave his hips a quick twitch. “Ahh!” Phin bit down on his bottom lip and did screwing his eyes shut, willing his cock not to have a hyperreaction that was way too much, too soon. Another twitch, which felt…a lot like a testing, testing tap on a microphone. Phin held his breath, hoping that Jake didn’t stop, never stopped.
He did not. Phin’s lungs offloaded themselves in one helluva rush when Jake unleashed a snap of hips so sublime it cocked a snook to circumspection. Slurping was luscious but Phin’s entire self hadn’t been squashed beneath Jake in a cock sandwich of too-much-never-enoughness. The rolling, winding glide of Jake’s hips was the most mellifluous melody on Earth; a symphony of sensation that scoffed at the very existence of excess. Chewed it up and spat it out with nary a care for seemly, nor the scales themselves.
Every note, pitch-perfect—as if Jack had hot-wired himself to Phin’s system—hypertuned to the witterings of his lips, the tiniest twitch of hips. Making a mockery of the fears that held Jake so hostage. Fears proved foundless—unfathomable—by the intensity of his focus and sheer poetry of his spine. These airy-fairy-thoughts wafted along in the wake of those as visceral as the need gnawing Phin’s guts…as guttural as the groans clawing the walls and the blood boiling through his veins. The world behind his eyelids was a kaleidoscope of white-hot sensation that scoffed at the spectrum itself. Awash with light-shot scarlet bright, blinding in its brilliance.
“Y’okay?” Jake gasp sounded as if it was tugged too tight. Okay? If Phin had ever felt better, he sure hadn’t forgotten to remember it.
“Yessss. Jake…I-I…” The rest did melting away when Jack let rip a fulsome snap. Shr
edding the last sliver of restraint Phin was clutching tighter than the sheets snarled in his fists. “Jaaakke!” scored the walls when a cascade of bliss shattered his brain while battering its way through his body.
Jake must’ve been holding on by the skin of his teeth, cos Phin had scarce snatched a breath when Jake shuddered and stilled, trembling as a second hot rush of sticky spilled across Phin’s skin. This, as his name resounded around his head as an exquisite echo: Phin-in-in-in…
A sumptuous sigh did fanning Phin’s chest when Jake’s lush weight slumped onto it. His hair was stuck to his face, slick with sweat, so Phin lifted a tentative hand to smooth the tangled tendrils aside.