Work Text:
There is humming coming from the kitchen of his apartment in Providence. Immediately, Jack feels a smile curving the corners of his mouth up as he recognizes the song. Honestly, he would recognize it anywhere now, with how significant it is not only to him but also to Eric.
Halo by Beyoncé.
Jack doesn't say anything yet, paused right in the doorway of the kitchen, neither stepping back or moving over the threshold. He's freshly showered after a morning run, not quite boneless but relaxed, and already there is a lovely smell wafting towards the NHL player. Waiting no longer than a few more seconds, Jack finally moves into the kitchen area, his gaze instantly snapping up to and falling upon Eric Bittle.
His boyfriend, Jack thinks with a small smile. His boyfriend, who is wearing nothing but a Zimmermann jersey in the Falconer blues, Jack's smile slipping away until he's left with a dry mouth. He swallows hard before moving forward to corner Bittle against one of the counters, turning him around so they're facing each other.
"Oh! Hello, hon-" Eric's eyes widen before he's cut off by a firm and heated kiss, Jack's big hands instantly falling to the smaller male's hips with a gentle squeeze. The former squirms with a soft noise of approval as the kiss deepens, a slip of tongue added to the mix for a teasing few moments, until Jack pulls back and their foreheads rest together. "You're back."
Jack smiles at how breathless Eric sounds, pleased to know that he caused that, and he hums in the affirmative. "I am."
"You caught me by surprise, sweetheart." Eric almost giggles, feeling lightheaded at their close proximity. It's not the first time Jack has cornered him like this, and kissed him dizzy like this, the urge to swoon overwhelming. One of Jack's big and warm hands cup Eric's cheek and they kiss again, a thigh lodged between Eric's, and oh, are they going to-?
"You're wearing the jersey again." Jack states, even though it's not necessary. Just an observation, with darker blue eyes than usual. Eric smiles knowingly, both his hands resting against Jack's firm and muscled chest, the naked skin beneath his palms hot to the touch from the shower prior.
"I have to support my boyfriend." Eric says with a grin as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, resting back against the counter with ease, spreading his legs a little when Jack makes no move to remove his thigh from between Bittle's. He knows how much Jack likes it when he wears the jersey, and he knows how much Jack loves it when he wears the jersey but nothing else. "You're also shirtless."
"I showered." Jack leans in again, wanting to be closer than they already are. He's already trembling slightly, and he knows it's with need. He needs-
"That much is obvious, Mr. Zimmermann." Eric's voice dips lower, his accent thickening as his fingers tighten reflexively, as they would to clutch at a shirt if his boyfriend was wearing one. Both hands move up to cup the back of Jack's head, tugging him forward with a level of impatience until their mouths meet again, teeth and tongue clashing together.
Jack hooks both his hands beneath Eric's pale thighs to lift him up, atop the counter, a squeak catching in Eric's throat due to surprise. Jack's lips attach to his neck; kissing and sucking and biting, relieved that he can do this right now -- Eric doesn't have to leave until tomorrow, and there will be plenty of time for the light marks to be covered, at first, before disappearing, at least until the next time they do this. He whispers hotly, "you're so beautiful."
Eric whines, his thighs trembling now, and he tilts his head up to give Jack as much room as he needs. Honeyed brown eyes flutter shut for a moment, until he gasps with lips pressed to the weak spot right below his ear. Then, he remembers what he'd been doing before getting distracted by a very determined NHL star. "--my pie!"
"Relax, baby," the affectionate term is whispered roughly against the shell of Bittle's ear with a kiss, and he shivers, fingers digging into Jack's shoulders. Jack, meanwhile, turns the oven off completely so they won't burn the pie Eric had been in the process of making before they'd become distracted. "There, now it won't burn."
If they weren't so distracted with each other, there would be mutual chirping.
"Good. Now, c'mere." Eric says in a tone that causes all Jack's blood to rush south, and he's completely gone, unable to do anything but what Bittle asks of him -- not that he even minds.
Their actions become more desperate and unrefined now that they can focus solely on progressing in what they'd started, Jack hiking the jersey up over Eric's thighs, before grasping at his cock which is fully hard. He strokes him once, twice, three times before squeezing and placing kisses across the column of Eric's throat. He laughs against heated skin when the smaller of the two says, "this is probably so unsanitary," breathless.
"Maybe you should become one of those erotic bakers, eh?" Jack smirks slightly, the expression becoming more comfortable on his face the longer he spends in Eric's presence. The younger man blushes, probably right down to his navel, at the comment.
"Y'all would like that too much." Eric's voice sounds strained, Jack's hand moving along his cock again, his hips stuttering and lifting dangerously close to the edge of the counter. The irony isn't lost on Bittle, and he tries to control himself somewhat, wondering if this is all they'll do to get each other off -- he isn't against going further than that, and it's not like they haven't already gone all the way, so to speak.
"Je te veux." Jack murmurs hotly right by Eric's ear again, dragging his hand and fingers achingly slow, and the smaller man knows exactly what that means. Jack always says it when he wants them to-
"I want you, too. Please, Jack." Eric doesn't mean to sound like he's begging, but it's difficult not to with his boyfriend's hand and mouth doing things to him like that.
He almost whines when Jack removes himself from the space between his legs completely, until he returns and slick fingers press at the rim of his ass, circling and massaging the ring of muscles there. When he's relaxed enough, Jack is able to slide one in right up to the knuckle, his free hand cupping Eric's jaw and kissing him breathless and speechless. They spend a good few minutes just doing that; kissing each other with intervals of Jack scissoring his fingers to spread Bittle wide enough that he'll be able to enter him without hurting him too much.
Jack's own cock is aching by now, desperate to be inside his boyfriend again, but he doesn't rush the preparation.
"H'uh, Jack," Eric does whine now, trying to drag the other man closer with stuttering hips, eyes blown wide and dark with arousal. "Want'cha inside me. Your-"
Jack nods and kisses him deeply, nipping and tugging at his lower lip, before guiding the head of his cock to Bittle's entrance. Squeezing his boyfriend's hip again, reassuring him, he pushes forward; through all the slight resistance and tightness that makes heat spread throughout his entire body with a sharp grunt falling from his lips. It feels like coming home.
Eric moans and quickly wraps his legs around Jack's waist, tugging him closer until there is next to no room between them. It's difficult to tell where one begins and the other ends, Jack's thrusts quick and shallow; the angle drives Bittle up the wall, clawing at his boyfriend's shoulders and back, the volume of their mutual pleasure increasing until cries and shouts echo off of the walls. For once, Eric is grateful for his smaller frame, absolutely loving how firm Jack is being with him; the big hands on his hips that drag him down again, and again, and again, until he's practically shaking from the accuracy of the thrusts.
The pegging of his prostate has Eric's eyes rolling up and closing, his attention honed in on that one sensation, throat raw from screaming. It's liberating, to be able to be as loud as possible here with Jack -- it's not like being back home in Georgia, with paper thin walls in a bedroom next to his parents, a shaking and unsteady hand down his pants whilst the other covers his mouth to muffle his own sounds of pleasure. He feels free.
Jack feels like he's drowning in sensation and heat, and everything is BittleBittleBittleBittleBittle. He can't even drag phrases together in English. Not with the way Eric is clenching over him in response to each firm tap to his prostate, nor with the way Eric's nails dig in and scratch across the skin of his shoulders and back as they come together in a flurry of clutching limbs and torrid movement, a steady stream of barely coherent French dropping out of Jack's mouth.
"Mon dieu." It's ragged and deep and comes with a warning that he won't last much longer. It's too hot; intense as ever, practically scorching, and Jack has never experienced anything like it before. If he could think of anything but the sensation of Eric clamping down over him with stuttered movements, he might think to ask his boyfriend if he's ever felt anything like this, either. "Bits!"
It's a wonder Jack can even scrape the nickname together in exclamation, clutching at Eric like his life depends on it as the warning comes and goes, and then he's coming, too.
"Oh, my God, Jack!"
Eric swears his heart almost bursts through his chest when Jack comes inside him, the sensation not at all unpleasant. The feeling of being marked from the inside as well as out, the bruises and love bites sure to paint his skin for the next few days, making his head spin. It acts as his own catalyst, and he soon follows Jack to his peak and climax.
"Completely unsanitary." Jack remarks wryly from above where Eric has tucked the side of his face against sweat slicked chest, after what seems like a long time, when in reality it is more like five minutes of catching their breath and kissing lovingly and lazily. It's blissful for both of them, and part of Eric doesn't want to move, but the significance of Jack's comment sinks in after a few moments.
They both laugh.
"We should move. I- I should move." Eric feels absolutely boneless, a dopey smile on his face as he presses sweet kisses to the marks left by his teeth against Jack's collarbones, wincing slightly when the older man slips out of him -- more from the sensation of the mess between his cheeks than any discomfort. "I should shower, and finish that pie."
"Want me to carry you, Bits?" Jack offers, despite the fact his muscles burn. It's like his run from earlier doubled in length and intensity. He's smiling, though, blindingly. "I could run you a bath."
"Would you, honey? I don't think I can stand for too long." Eric laughs again when Jack, with far too much ease for someone who's just fucked his boyfriend so thoroughly, lifts him up and carries him towards the bathroom.
"I'll join you?" Jack murmurs with lips pressed tenderly to Eric's temple. There's a wonderful (in Eric's very biased opinion) flush to his cheeks due to his own suggestion. "It could be romantic, eh?"
"You're too sweet to me, darlin'." Eric practically beams and nuzzles against him with closed eyes, wondering how on Earth he got so damn lucky to have a boyfriend as attentive as Jack Laurent Zimmermann. "Please?"
He gets a slow and deep kiss in answer, a tingle running from his head right down to his toes, which curl in contentment.
The bath doesn't take long at all to run and Jack slips into the tub filled with warm water and bubbles first, before Eric removes the Zimmermann jersey and joins him, settling between the taller man's legs. The sexual tension between them has been completely sated by now so the shared bath is, instead, as romantic and relaxed as they'd both hoped.
"I could get used to this." Jack says without thinking too much about the implications of such a statement. In this moment, it doesn't matter -- nothing but Eric Richard Bittle matters.
"Me, too." Eric turns and tilts his head up slightly, just enough to stroke wet fingers along Jack's jaw, kissing the corner of his mouth sweetly. The locked gazes and smiles shared between them makes the younger of the pair breathless. "I want to."
"I love you, Bits."
Intensely.
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
Irrevocably.