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Jann actually manages to forget he’s concussed until he wakes up the next morning with a raging fucking headache.
For a second, he forgets what happened yesterday, and thinks he’s hungover. He’s just wondering who the hell he was drinking with when he feels something warm and heavy shifting against his side.
He looks over, and there’s Jack Salter—fast asleep, hair hopelessly mussed, curled on top of Jann’s outstretched arm and against his side like he’s trying to burrow into Jann’s skin, and looking so precious and kissable that Jann thinks he might cry.
It’s weird to see Jack like this, so open and vulnerable. He’s always been gentle with Jann, but there’s some part of him that he keeps locked away, unreachable. Jann always felt like there was this barrier between them—Jack can touch him, but when Jann reaches out to touch back, his fingertips are stopped by an invisible wall, just short of landing on Jack’s skin.
It was different last night, Still there, but it was like Jann could push through it for one sweet moment, before it pushed him back. He wonders if Jack knows it’s there, or if Jack just never understood why no one’s touch ever feels like enough.
They didn’t get very far last night. Jack thought that twenty minutes post-breakdown was too much for their first time, so he didn’t let Jann do much more than a bit of heavy petting. Jann doesn’t think that was the whole truth, but it was fair enough, so he didn’t push.
He doesn’t know why Jack is afraid, but Jack is one of those things that he wants to pull apart, break into pieces, and put back together again; he’ll find out eventually.
For now, Jann presses a kiss to Jack’s impressively tousled hair and gently tries to get his arm out from under Jack’s cheek. It’s tricky, but he manages to extract himself from Jack and sneak out of the room, heading into the kitchen to snag some paracetamol from the cabinet and down at least two cups of water.
He also devours a granola bar, because taking meds on an empty stomach always makes him sick, and while he’s leaning against the counter, munching on his breakfast, his eyes land on his phone; it’s still on the coffee table where he left it yesterday, which means it’s probably not charged, and it probably has at least thirty new messages that he’s gonna need to sort through.
He tosses his granola bar wrapper, walks over to pick up his phone, and starts swiping through his notifications. Most of it is nonsense, but a text from Danny does catch his eye.
Well. Oops. That’s gonna be awkward.
He and Jack spent a lot of time talking last night, but the topic of revealing their relationship never came up. Jann’s not against it, but he’d rather not tell anyone else for the time being. It’s new, and precious, and Jann wants to cradle it close to his chest where he can protect it. He wants to keep it just for them right now, and given Jack’s aversion to anything related to the general public, Jann would bet that he feels the same.
Sucks for Danny, because his job is about to get a lot harder. Jann doesn’t think they can hide it from the man who is essentially their publicist, but all that means is that Danny’s gonna have to work overtime to run interference for them.
Well, like he always says, that’s a problem for Later Jann.
He leaves his phone on the charger and heads back into his room.
Jack’s still sprawled out on the bed, tangled in the sheets, and Jann smiles at the sight. He can see Jack’s scars on his back—myriad cuts and scrapes; two long, jagged lines at the right shoulderblade, from the top of the shoulder all the way down to the middle of his back; and a mottled burn mark up his right arm, over his shoulder, and down his ribs, wrapping around slightly at his waist. Jann never got the full story about Jack’s wreck—he’s too reticent about himself to go into too much detail—but whatever happened, it all happened to his right side. His left side is almost entirely untouched.
Jack’s scars are lit softly by the gentle sunlight streaming through the window, and Jann leans over to trail kisses over them. He traces one of the lines with his fingers—it’s old, now, maybe even as old as Jann, so it’s long since gone soft and pale. Jann’s own scars are still angry red and raised, and there’s something so fucking special about seeing the future of his own story mapped out on Jack’s skin.
He’s seized with the desire to see his own mark painted amongst the annals, and sinks his teeth into the space between Jack’s shoulder and neck. The trapezius, he remembers, sucking gently on the skin. Best worked with barbell shrugs. Jack makes him pay special attention to this muscle group in training because it’s responsible for almost all upper body movement. Jann scrapes his teeth over Jack’s, pleased with the way it jumps under his lips. Strong traps will help your shitty gamer posture, kid, Jack told him once, and Jann kisses the words into Jack’s scars.
It takes Jack a while to stir—Jann clearly tired him out last night—but he starts to rouse sometime between the second and third bite Jann leaves along his shoulder. He shifts beneath Jann’s palms, and Jann smiles into the kiss he’s pressing into the mark he just left.
“Mmm…” Jack mumbles sleepily. Jann snickers and bites him again.
Jack twitches awake this time, trying to roll over, but he’s pinned beneath Jann, trapped on his stomach. He tries to look back over his shoulder, but all he can see is Jann’s arm planted on the mattress by his face.
Jann dips down and kisses him on the cheek. “Good morning,” he murmurs, shifting to lay down on his side next to Jack.
Jack smiles at him. He’s usually the first one up, so Jann doesn’t often get to see the way he comes awake slowly, like he’s reluctant to leave his dreams behind, nestled between the messy blankets on an unmade bed. This morning is no different—his sleepy eyes are all for Jann, like nothing else even exists around them.
“How’d you sleep?” Jann asks, propping his head up on his elbow and watching the way the morning light catches on Jack’s lashes.
“This little fuckin’ punk kept kicking me,” Jack says, voice raspy from sleep, and wow, it’s the sexiest thing Jann’s ever heard.
“Bastard,” Jann grins.
“Mmm,” Jack agrees, tapping Jann affectionately under the chin. “He’s pretty though, so I’ll let it slide. This time.”
“Ooh, scary,” Jann teases, and he feels giddy—almost stupid on the syrupy sweetness stretching and dripping languid and slow between them. He can’t stop smiling, Jack’s smiling back at him, and it’s infectious. He leans forward to kiss Jack’s equally stupid, sleepy mouth. “Guess he’ll have to make it up to you,” Jann murmurs against his lips, pressing Jack back into the pillows.
Jack goes easily, laying back and letting Jann slide over him. He kisses like he’s got absolutely nowhere else to be. Like his entire world right now is just Jann’s lips sliding against his, slow and captivating and so fucking tender.
Jann’s losing himself in Jack, but before he can stray too far from shore, Jack breaks the kiss and says, “Jann.”
“Hmm?” he hums against Jack’s throat, continuing to press kisses under his jaw.
“We should get up,” Jack says softly, guiding Jann away with a hand on his cheek. “I need coffee and you need to eat with your meds.”
“I already took them.”
“Well, I need breakfast with mine too, and you’re straddling my bladder, so let me up.”
Jann grins and debates not getting up, but Jack’s giving him that look like he’s gonna make Jann run thirty extra laps if he doesn’t move now, so he rolls off his engineer and stretches out on the sheets. He’s not wearing much of anything—just a loose pair of shorts and nothing else, and he preens a little when it distracts Jack from pulling his sweats on.
“Stop looking at me like that, kid, I have things to do.”
“Of course, I would never dream of interrupting you,” he lies, running his thumb up the outline of his cock through his thin shorts and slipping his fingers inside the waistband.
“Nope, nope, nope,” Jack says, resolutely turning away and heading for the bathroom. “I’m not falling for it!”
Jann’s still smiling when he hears Jack’s voice drift through the open bathroom door. “What the fuck…” he’s saying, and then, “Jann!”
“Yes?” Jann calls sweetly from the bed.
“What did you do to me?”
Ah, so he’s found Jann’s bite marks. “Nothing you didn’t want, old man.”
“I swear to fucking—”
They have an outstandingly lazy morning.
Jack makes breakfast, because while Jann’s passable enough at cooking to not starve, Jack definitely has the skill and experience over him.
Jann sits on a barstool at the counter and heckles Jack. His favourite pastime. It’s simple and sweet and so domestic, and it feels exactly like it always has.
Jann realises, watching Jack grind pepper over their eggs, that they’ve been in love for a hell of a lot longer than he thought. And it makes him smile, this quiet intimacy he shares with Jack.
He’s always shared it with Jack. It’s been present since their very first meeting—glances at each other across rooms, communicating with nothing but their eyes. They were good at it, having entire conversations nestled neatly between the lines. The words left unsaid between them could fill entire shelves, and despite never having been voiced, Jann doesn’t need to hear the words to know how Jack feels.
Jack is guarded emotionally, but he’s always been extremely open with his affection—at least with Jann. He’s very tactile, and Jann knows that every compliment Jack gives is fully deserved. He didn’t realise until he watched Jack with Matty and Antonio during Le Mans—Jack was attentive and supportive, but the sweet praise was all for Jann.
At some point, sometime between watching Jack devour his eggs and making a seventh joke about an old man and his blood pressure medication, Jann thinks, I don’t ever want this to end.
It’s mid-afternoon by the time they collapse on the couch together, right where they were the night before when the weight of Jann’s wrecks finally broke him. Jann likes it better this time, though, because he can lay right in Jack’s lap without even crying first.
It’s the little things.
They’re both reluctant to break their little bubble of serenity, so neither of them picked up their phones. Jack is stretched out, propped up against the armrest, and Jann is settled neatly between Jack’s legs, head on Jack’s chest, and his own long-ass legs folded to accommodate his height.
Jack presses a kiss to Jann’s hair and tangles their fingers together on Jann’s stomach. It’s so tender that Jann could fucking cry, and he lifts their hands to kiss Jack’s fingertips.
Maybe it’s the missed opportunity this morning, maybe it’s lingering desire from last night, maybe it’s the way Jack’s been looking at Jann all day like he wants nothing more than to get his mouth on Jann’s skin…but when Jann’s kiss lingers a little too long and Jack’s finger slips against his teeth, the atmosphere shifts very suddenly.
The air sparks and charges between them, and Jann, never one to let go of an opportunity presented so perfectly to him, parts his lips and lets Jack press his fingers inside Jann’s mouth.
He can feel callouses born of too many years under the hood instead of behind the wheel, and he can taste the metallic tang of engine oil that can never quite be scrubbed away. Something about that—being able to taste racing between the ridges of Jack’s fingertips—is so fucking hot Jann can’t even think.
His cock fills so fast it makes him dizzy, and he moans around Jack’s fingers. He braces one hand against the couch and keeps the other one wrapped around Jack’s wrist. Jack presses down on his tongue—Jann’s jaw is pushed open and he tilts his head back to look up at Jack from below.
Jack looks thunderstruck, like he didn’t expect this, like Jann’s reaction shocked him—eyes wide and pupils dilated, lips parted and breathing heavy. Jann can feel Jack’s cock hardening against the small of his back, and he arches a little to press against it. His eyelids flutter when it pushes Jack’s fingers harder into his tongue and forces his jaw open wider.
He’s gotten himself trapped against Jack on the couch; one of Jack’s arms is firm across his ribs like the steel bar of a roll-cage, the other has his shoulder pinned while he feeds his fingers into Jann’s mouth, and he’s managed to get his ankles hooked around Jann’s legs to spread them open. Jann has nowhere to go, and every time he moves, it shoves Jack’s fingers deeper towards his throat.
It’s unexpected, but really fucking hot, and it doesn’t take long for Jann to start panting. His cock is leaking in his shorts, and it twitches traitorously every time Jack’s grip tightens.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself, kid,” Jack says, and there’s something mean in his voice that’s so unlike his usual gentle praise that it makes Jann’s head spin. He whines and arches against Jack, not sure if he’s trying to escape or if he’s asking for more.
“Fuck…” Jack groans, and it sounds almost desperate, like he can’t quite hide how turned-on he is watching Jann come apart in his arms. He grinds his cock upwards into the small of Jann’s back—he’s holding Jann too tightly to really get much movement, but it makes his breath hitch in Jann’s ear anyway.
Jann has never been the kind of person to back down from a challenge, so he fights against Jack’s hold, trying to get enough leverage so he can flip over. It’s difficult, because while Jann has strength and height, Jack has the massive advantage of position. He trapped Jann before Jann realised what was happening, and Jann’s not sure he’ll win the battle.
He changes tack, arching his back sharply. It forces Jack’s fingers deeper and he almost chokes, but he swallows around them and feels inordinately pleased when he feels himself drag against Jack’s cock and hears Jack’s broken moan.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jack curses, and he still sounds far too put-together for Jann’s taste, so Jann lets go of Jack’s wrist to cradle his own throat and slides up his body with the other. He can’t bend enough to touch himself, so he settles for hitching his shirt up and thumbing at his nipple. He moans around Jack’s fingers, and knows he’s rapidly losing the battle against his own composure.
“Never thought you’d be like this,” Jack murmurs against his ear. He uses the ankle hooked around Jann’s to force his legs open wider, and Jann’s cock drags against the inseam of his shorts, leaving a smear of precum against his skin. “So desperate for it. You’d let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t you?”
Jann nods frantically—or does his best with Jack’s fingers down his throat, anyway. It’s clumsy and uneven, but it seems to get the point across well enough. Jack dips down and bites Jann’s shoulder, hard and mean, right where Jann bit him this morning. The trapezius again, and it makes Jann’s whole body spasm. It jolts him right down to his belly, and he feels tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes. He’s so fucking turned on it almost makes him feel sick, and he can’t stop the way his hips are twitching, tilting, searching for friction that’s nowhere to be found.
Please, he wants to beg. Please, touch me, touch me.
“Shh, pretty boy, I’ll take care of you,” Jack says, like he knows what Jann needs, like he can read how close Jann is to crying for it, and his fingers slip out of Jann’s throat. Before Jann realises what’s happening, Jack has let go and is leveraging him over. Jann obeys, letting Jack guide him so he’s straddling Jack’s lap.
Despite finally getting free, it doesn’t feel much like a victory, but Jann doesn’t stop to think about why. He dips down to kiss Jack, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing his mouth open. He’s not gentle—their teeth clash and he’s holding Jack’s face so tightly he briefly wonders if he’ll see bruises there tomorrow, but neither of them care. Jann shoves his tongue in Jack’s mouth and rocks his hips against Jack’s lap.
The new position lets Jann readjust himself, too, so his cock isn’t trapped down the leg of his shorts anymore. He wants to take them off, but he’s too desperate to be touched to separate from Jack for a single moment.
Jack is groaning into Jann’s mouth, tilting his hips up against Jann’s, and Jann is pretty sure Jack has lost control of himself too.
Jack’s hand sneaks past Jann’s waistband and palms his cock, and the friction feels so good Jann thinks he might really start crying this time. His hips stutter, and Jack rubs his thumb against the underside, smearing precum over the head. He shoves his thumbnail into the slit, and Jann bucks into his hand.
“You like that, don’t you?” Jack asks, and all Jann can do is moan. “God, I had no idea you would be such a fucking slut.”
And there’s some extremely crossed wires in Jann’s head, because the brutal way Jack is touching him and the derisive tone of his voice nearly tips Jann over the edge. The insult burns in his gut and all he can think about is how fucking hot it is that Jack—tender, gentle, careful Jack—is treating Jann like he wants nothing more than to break him into little pieces.
“Just—” Jann moans brokenly, planting his hand on the cushion behind Jack so he can grind his cock more smoothly against Jack’s. “Just for you.”
Jann’s eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see the way Jack’s widen with shock. He feels Jack freeze, though, and nearly pulls back to check on him, but Jack’s hips buck hard once, twice, and then pause, grinding infinitesimally in little circles. Jann can feel Jack’s cock throbbing beneath him, hot and now wet, and Jann is pretty sure that’s Jack’s cum that he feels seeping through his shorts.
God, that’s so hot.
Jann reaches down with his free hand and slips it into Jack’s sweats, and yeah, that’s cum. A lot of it, hot and slick and sticky, and he gathers some of it up on his fingers. Jack’s staring at him like he’s never seen him before, and without breaking eye contact, Jann brings his fingers to his mouth and licks Jack’s cum off of them.
And that, finally, looks like it breaks Jack. His eyelids flutter closed and his head drops back against the cushions. Jann’s so pleased with himself that he nearly forgets that he hasn’t cum yet.
He decides to test Jack’s resolve a little bit, and swipes more cum off Jack’s skin. Jack opens his eyes and looks at him, watching Jann’s hand reach for his own cock and stroke himself with it.
“What the fuck,” Jack chokes out, almost reverent. Jann grins and strokes himself slowly, using his other hand to pull his waistband down so that Jack can see what he’s doing.
He puts on a show, tilting his head back to show Jack his throat and moaning softly. He hooks his shorts under his cock and trails his free hand up his waist to thumb at his nipple. It’s electric, touching himself while Jack watches. Jann can feel the weight of his gaze like a caress, like it’s Jack’s touch teasing over his skin, like it’s Jack’s hand on him. He still has some of Jack’s cum on his hands, and it leaves wet little trails over his skin.
Jack watches, stunned. He follows the path of Jann’s hand over himself, licks his lips when he sees himself painted all over his racer’s body, and Jann can feel Jack starting to harden beneath him again.
“Possessive, aren’t you?” Jann murmurs. “Like seeing your cum all over me? Seeing me marked?”
“Jesus fucking—” Jack groans, and Jann knows he hit the mark. He didn’t figure Jack for a jealous type—too many years and too many exes behind him for shit like that—but it doesn’t take a genius to guess that Jack is a possessive bastard. Even before their relationship changed, Jack always had a hand on the back of Jann’s neck or the small of his back, or his waist, or his thigh—casual, possessive touches. Jann has always been Jack’s; his student, his racer, his friend.
And now his lover. It was irrefutable; nobody else could have Jann now, not covered in Jack’s cum and coming apart on Jack’s thigh. Jann is ruined for everyone else—has been, really, for a lot longer than this.
“Touch me, Jack,” Jann begs, breathless with arousal. “Touch me, please, touch me, touch me.”
Jack doesn’t move right away, just kinda stares at Jann like he can’t decide if he should comply or if he wants to fucking escape.
“Come on, old man, what are you afraid of?” Jann asks, eyes half-lidded and intent, and he can see immediately, even through the haze of his own desire, that he once again hit the nail right on the head. Jack is afraid—of what, Jann doesn’t know, but Jack’s the one who taught him how to confront his own fear, and now it's Jann's turn to teach.
“Not afraid,” Jack lies.
Jann takes Jack’s hand in his own and guides Jack’s palm to his body, over his chest, down his ribs, to his waist…
“Then touch me,” Jann says, and Jack looks like he might cry. There’s something happening there, Jann thinks, unreachable, that Jann can’t understand. Some fear that’s taken hold that makes Jack hesitant to touch, to hold, to love. It’s deep, his fear, and Jann wonders if it’s the sex or the intimacy that he’s afraid of. Maybe he’s afraid of what it does to him. Maybe he’s afraid of what he’ll do to Jann.
It shouldn’t be sexy, but it is, and Jann thinks that Jack being afraid to break him, but utterly unable to resist, is the single hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.
Jack wraps his hand around Jann’s cock, gently, so at odds with the vicious way he was treating Jann just five minutes ago.
Jann’s cock is still slick with Jack’s cum, and something about seeing himself in Jack’s hand, covered in Jack’s spend, nearly has him cumming right there.
But he holds off, because he wants to see Jack’s face as he touches Jann, corrupts his wide-eyed young racer, defiles him, wrecks him, ruins him.
Jann will never stop being enchanted by the way Jack’s desire and guilt war on his face every time he touches Jann. It’s one of the sexiest things about him—he’s so much older, so much wiser, and so much more experienced, but he folds so easy under Jann’s fingertips. It’s like he can’t help himself, like he’s so helpless against his desire for Jann that he can’t control the way he shakes apart every time Jann touches him.
And Jann wants to see the horrified arousal in Jack’s eyes when he makes Jann cum all over on both of them.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Jack coaxes, working Jann’s cock mercilessly. He straightens up a bit to kiss Jann and continues murmuring against his lips. “Cum for me, pretty boy, that’s it, fuck—”
That’s all it takes, and Jann is trembling in Jack’s lap. He cums so hard his body bows inward and his vision blacks out for a split second. He buries his face in Jack’s neck and bites down, hips twitching involuntarily in Jack’s fist.
Jack doesn’t let up, stroking Jann through his orgasm, way past the point of overstimulation. Jann tries to tilt his hips away, but Jack follows easily, and it’s fucking overwhelming. Jann gasps into Jack’s throat, panting heavily, hips bucking against his will. He can’t decide if he’s trying to escape or if he’s leaning into it or if he wants more, more, more—
It feels so fucking good, Jack is holding him in place with one arm and working his cock with his other hand, completely relentless, watching him closely with a wicked smirk on his face, and it’s so hot and so much, and Jann thinks he can feel another orgasm building already. He can feel tears in his face, and he chokes on a moan. It’s too much, it’s too much, it’s too much, fuck—
He cums again, climax ruthlessly ripped from him, and this time Jack lets go immediately. It’s so fucking cruel, it completely ruins his orgasm and only a few beads of cum manage to slide free. His cock is left jerking and throbbing, but completely unsatisfied. Jann whines, fully crying into Jack’s shoulder, wrecked and entirely overwhelmed.
He blacks out a little, sagging against Jack and wrapping his arms around his engineer, paying no mind to the cum still wet between them.
“Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay, fuck, you did great, kid,” Jack is murmuring in his ear when he comes to, cradling the back of his neck and hugging him close. Jann is sobbing, big heaving breaths sucking air like he can’t get enough. His face is wet with tears, and fuck, he doesn’t remember when he started.
“F— Fuck,” Jann pants, shaking and trembling uncontrollably.
“I know, sweetheart, you did great, it’s okay.”
“Holy shit—”
“I know, I know, shh,” Jack says, petting softly at the base of Jann’s neck and rocking him a little. “You did so good, you were so perfect.”
Jann tries to sit back so he’s not crushing Jack against the back of the couch, but his muscles are like jelly and almost entirely unresponsive, so he gives up quickly.
He’s still reeling from what just happened. It was the hottest sex he’s ever had in his life, and they didn’t even take their clothes off. Jann’s pretty sure he just discovered at least three new kinks right now, and ideas to explore at least like ten others. He feels like it’s fundamentally changed him. How is he supposed to go back to normal after something like that?
But while Jann’s having a religious experience, Jack is having an existential crisis.
“Did I hurt you?” Jack asks, and he sounds guilty and a little horrified, like he just realised what he’d done to Jann. Like he didn’t intend to do that. Like he lost control.
For that, Jann musters enough energy to tilt his head to the side and kiss the expanse of skin underneath Jack’s jaw. He’d have preferred to kiss Jack’s stupid mouth, but this’ll do.
“No,” Jann promises. “Not at all, it was fantastic.”
“Okay,” is all Jack says, and Jann already knows this is going to be a problem.
“Are you okay?” Jann asks. Gently, because he knows the answer is ‘no,’ and he knows Jack well enough to know that it’s not about Jann. It’s not personal. Jack never would have even stayed the night if he had a problem with Jann. But Jann knows that Jack carries a lot around with him—regrets, guilt, insecurities; lifetimes of baggage from things Jann wasn’t even alive for—and Jann knows how heavy it can be.
Jack doesn’t answer, and Jann is terrified of pushing too far—he knows that Jack has a limit to how far he’ll bend, and if he breaks, Jack will run, and Jann’s not sure they’d survive something like that at this point.
Still, he needs to know.
“Jack…”
“I’m sorry,” Jack cuts him off. “Usually I, uh… talk to my partners a bit more before I do something like that.”
“Shut up, old man, you didn’t hurt me.”
“But I could have,” Jack whispers, and it’s so quiet Jann barely hears it.
“But you didn’t,” Jann insists.
Jack doesn’t answer again, and Jann gathers all of his willpower to sit up so he can look Jack in the eyes.
Jack looks lost in a way Jann’s never seen before, adrift in a sea Jann doesn’t have a name for. Jann cradles his face and kisses him on the grumpy line between his eyebrows, featherlight and soft.
“Stupid man,” he says. “Have I literally ever, once, in my entire life, ever bothered to do something I didn’t wanna do?”
That startles a chuckle out of Jack and Jann smiles.
“I mean I’ve told you to fuck off often enough, right?” Jann continues, coaxing a smile out of Jack.
“Now that you mention it, you could stand to be a little more obedient…”
“Oh, fuck off,” Jann laughs. He gets off Jack’s lap and stands up, holding his hand out. “C’mon, old man, let’s shower; we’re covered in cum and I wanna see what you look like sucking my cock.”
“I don’t think my knees will allow that one, kid.”
“Who said anything about your knees?”
Later, when they’ve well and truly exhausted each other, they lay together in Jann’s bed, spread out and sated. The sun is dipping below the horizon, and the sky is creeping its way into the evening, soft light golden and gentle.
Jack cradles Jann’s jaw and meets his eyes. “I love you,” he says, and presses a kiss to the corner of Jann’s mouth.
Jann smiles against his lips and returns the kiss, happy that, for once, both of their demons seem to be at rest.
In hindsight, it was pretty obvious that this wasn’t going to be easy. They’re both too fucked-up to have a normal relationship with intimacy, and even though Jann is young enough and pretty enough and rich enough to bend people over in club bathrooms in his spare time, he knows it’s different with Jack. It always will be, because it actually means something. It will be a challenge for them, he thinks, to navigate all the cracks of each other that broke off jagged and left holes behind when they splintered.
It’s worth it, though. For Jack.
For now, he wraps his arm around Jack’s shoulders and pulls him closer, pressing a kiss to Jack’s impressively tousled hair, and closes his eyes to sleep. He’s comfortable, Jack’s here, the waning sunlight is glowing through the window and casting the room in a muted golden light, and there’s absolutely nothing to do this week but wake up next to Jack in his bed over and over. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it.