Fill: Escaping Reality 4/?
anonymous
October 5 2010, 15:24:26 UTC
“Don’t have one. I’m one of those kids who gets the allotments, so I don’t have to worry about sharing a place. It’s got two bedrooms, in case my sister decides to visit, so you’d have your own space.” Jim smirked inwardly; this was better than he’d hoped for. He’d expected a couch in a cramped apartment, not his own room.
“Well, I’ll pay my share, regardless,” he said, feeling something in his chest tighten at the slow grin that took over Len’s face. He ruthlessly quelled the urge to touch that dimple and smiled back instead.
“So you’ll come?” At Jim’s nod, Len’s grin got larger, if that was possible, and once they’d finished eating and paid (Jim insisted, since Len was taking him in and all), he dragged Jim to an old cargo-transport car, which was barely newer than the convertible Jim had crashed at age 9. It ran well, though, and he picked up what little bits he’d left in his room at the flop house, and had gotten installed In the rather spacious apartment just off campus before he had to run to make it to his class on time.
After his class he went back to the apartment and was surprised when the only picture he had of his whole family (him, his mom, and his brother, before Sam had taken off) was settled next to a picture of Len’s family, and the old quilt he’d stolen from his house in Iowa was folded over the back of the couch. Len was in the kitchen, cooking something or other, and he wandered that way, absently putting his bag on the couch as he went.
“You unpacked my shit?” he asked, puzzled.
“No reason for it all to be in your room if you’re gonna live here, too, right?” Len asked, and Jim barely saw the slow creep of pink that went to the tips of Len’s ears.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, heart clenching again. This man had taken him in without question, and had gone out of his way to make him feel welcome. And he was lying to him and manipulating him… He shook his head mentally. Now was so not the time or place for this. “What’re you cooking? We just ate two hours ago.”
“You just ate two hours ago,” Len countered absently, and then he turned to face him, making Jim quirk a grin at the ridiculous apron the man was wearing, which said ‘I’m the chef. If you don’t like the food, I’ll stab you.’ “I only had some cobbler, which while it was amazingly good, was not a meal. So I’m makin’ some chicken and mushrooms. You hungry?”
“Well, yeah, but… I’m not used to eating so often.” He was actually used to eating in the early morning and then at Darla’s, but he wasn’t going to tell Len that.
Fill: Escaping Reality 5/?
anonymous
October 5 2010, 15:56:40 UTC
“Then go into that cabinet and pull down plates. Food’s almost done.” Jim did as asked, and set the plates out on the counter before searching for the flatware. He was hungry, but that was more because he was going through another growth spurt than anything. He was glad he wasn’t allergic to anything in the food, or else he’d have to go hungry again, but when he finally got everything set up, Len was putting the casserole dish on the counter and plating the food.
“You don’t have to plate mine, I can get it,” he protested, only to be laughed at as Len piled his plate high.
“Yeah, well, if you plated yourself, you’d starve. I saw how you inhaled the food at the diner, and you’ve been staring at the stove like a hungry lion since you found out I was cooking. You still growing or something?” Jim felt himself flush; his height was a sore subject, since he hadn’t grown past 5’6” in his entire high school career.
“Maybe.”
“How old are you, anyway, JT?” Len asked as they ate.
“18,” he lied, mouth full of the best meal he’d had in months (nothing bad on Darla, but home-cooked just tasted better).
“Liar.”
“Fine. I’ll be 18 soon. Happy?” he asked, swallowing finally and slowing down on his inhalation.
“Maybe. You graduated early, too, huh?”
“What do you mean, too?”
“I’m in my second year of undergrad… how old do you think I am?”
“20?”
“Damn it, kid, I’m not 20… I’m barely 18 m’self.” Jim was surprised; en just acted so mature it was hard to realize that they were nearly the same age.
“Sorry, Len, you just act older.” He ducked his head and resumed his imitation of a human vacuum, cleaning his plate quickly before stepping out on the balcony to have his one cigarette for the day. He was immensely surprised when Len joined him, a cancer stick of his own hanging from a corner of his lip.
“Yeah, I guess I do, at that.” They smoked in silence, and Jim had to keep reminding himself not to stare at Len, since Len was most probably straight, and that would end his stay at Chez McCoy. When they were finished, Len led him into the living room and turned on the vid, looking for something to watch. Jim curled up in his quilt, still cold even though it wasn’t too cold outside, and the apartment wasn’t very chilly. Len settled on some mindless action movie and settled in with popcorn which Jim occasionally snaked a hand out to sample.
Jim was woken by a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he reacted, thrashing in the comforter before a familiar voice broke through his panic attack. “JT, wake up, kid,” Len rumbled, hands on his shoulders, stopping his shakes. “Calm down, kid, it’s just me, you’re safe.”
“How long w’s I ‘sleep?” he mumbled, untangling himself and refolding the quilt on the couch.
“About an hour. The movie just ended when you started whining in your sleep. You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a nightmare. I’m gonna head to bed now… I gotta be at work by 7.”
Fill: Escaping Reality 6/?
anonymous
October 6 2010, 15:32:46 UTC
He avoided Len’s searching gaze and retreated into the second bedroom (!HIS! bedroom!) and curled up, trying to ignore the fact that he had just had a flashback while asleep and now Len was suspicious. He finally fell asleep around dawn, and woke an hour later.
Len was putting out bowls of some sort of oatmeal, and he wolfed his down quickly before heading out for his run. He always ran the circuit around the campus in the morning, especially when he couldn’t sleep the night before, and he was surprised when Len joined him in a pair of shorts and a ratty ‘Ole Miss’ t-shirt.
Their run was completed in a comfortable kind of silence that Jim had never experienced before, which unnerved him to the point that he bolted through his shower and ran off with a hurried wave and a piece of toast that Len had nearly thrown at him before he left the apartment. He made it to the store early, and despite the awkward tightness in his chest, he felt better than he had since he’d run away.
When Len met him at closing time, it was nearly a repeat of the night before: they went to Darla’s, where he ate three servings of something that was amazingly good for being full of grease, while Len just had coffee, before heading off to another class. He came home (Home? It felt right.) to something delicious to eat, and another random movie that he slept through, thankfully without nightmares.
The routine continued for two months, until a car accident changed everything again. Len had been T-boned going through an intersection, and was laid up in the hospital with critical injuries, and Jim wasn’t allowed to visit him until after he’d woken, which meant days of silence and moping through the days, and nearly starving simply because he couldn’t bring himself to cook anything, though he knew how to.
When Len got out of the hospital and was able to go back to normal activities, Jim became his shadow, as much as possible, a role reversal that wasn’t lost on him. He managed to get away with it for over a week before Len got fed up with it and confronted him.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, hating that even now, his voice apparently wasn’t finished changing, as the pitch cracked and lowered halfway through the sentence. “It was hard to think - “ he cut himself off, not wanting to finish that sentence, though the words hung in the air anyway. “That you could be dead.” He was utterly surprised when Len’s arms came around him in a hug; neither of them were very physical with the other, and especially not to the extent of hugs. “Len?” It was weird in that Len was shirtless, though it felt kind of good, too.
“You thought you’d lost me, huh Jim?” He’d finally told Len that his first name was Jim, if only to stop those flashbacks. He couldn’t answer in words, so he just nodded into the shoulder that had been much taller just a few short months before. “Hell, darlin’, I kinda thought I’d lost it, too.” Jim looked up quickly, opening his mouth to say something, and was silenced by Len’s mouth.
((not sure why I was anoning in the first place... *facepalm*))
When they surfaced from the kiss, Jim couldn’t remember the topic they’d been talking about. Hell, he could barely remember his own name. Len kissed him again, slow and sweet, making Jim’s toes curl into the carpet under their bare feet. The kiss was drugging, and he suddenly found himself laying back on the couch, Len crouching over him, hands running down his sides to reach the hem of his shirt. Groaning, he shifted to give more access, yelping in surprised pleasure when Len’s mouth found his nipple through his shirt, teasing it with tongue and teeth.
He scrabbled ineffectively at Len’s back, sighing as his shirt was finally removed and he was able to be chest to chest with Len, and the gasp wrenched from Len proved that the Southern man’s nipples were just as sensitive as his. They made out on the couch for awhile, alternating between frantic and slow, the juxtaposition driving Jim mad with want, the want to do something, the want to find out how far this was going.
Len finally pulled back a little, staring down at him with those green, green eyes, pupils completely blown, breathing ragged. Jim’s own breath caught at the picture presented, brain short-circuiting as Len licked his lips. When it seemed like Len would leave him on the couch, he wrapped a hand around the Georgian’s arm, looking into those eyes, trying to figure out what he was doing. He received a long kiss to his pulse point for his trouble, and a shaky chuckle.
“Just wanna get us more comfortable, darlin’, that’s all.” He was pulled up by Len, who caught him when his knees buckled, and they somehow made it into Len’s room, pants falling by the wayside as well. When Len brought them into full contact knee to chest, Jim whimpered, partly in desire, but partly in terror, too. This was going faster than he thought it would, and it wasn’t that he was a virgin (yeah, not so much, he’d done it before), it was the feelings again, which were going to destroy him one of these days.
“Jim?” Len asked, stopping all movement abruptly. “You okay?” The concern coming from him made Jim’s heart melt, and he relaxed. Whatever was going to happen, Len was going to be his friend for a long time, so why was he worrying?
“Yeah, Len, I’m okay,” he answered, flipping their positions and pinning Len to the bed. It was his turn to turn Len into a writhing mass of nerves and sensation. He started by licking that little hollow at the hinge of Len’s jaw, receiving a hitching sigh in response. He set out to find out the places that Len liked, the ones that would get moans and sighs, and groans, especially when he experimented with those nipples. He was moving down Len’s body systematically, finding out that Len’s bellybutton was extremely sensitive, drawing almost a squeak from Len, and he probably shouldn’t have laughed, but it was funny. He was suddenly flipped onto his back, their positions reversed as Len traced a path of fire down his body, earning that squeak more than once. Jim’s brain was literally melting, it had to be; he could barely see, and the sensations coming from some parts of his body had to be impossible, had to be imagined.
Fill: Escaping Reality 8/? (definitely NSFW)bandearg_roisOctober 7 2010, 00:40:37 UTC
“Len… Len… Len…” he heard as if he was far away from the speaker, but soon realized that it was him making those noises, saying Len’s name like it was a mantra. Len made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat and continued his ministrations. Jim suddenly found himself with his legs over Len’s shoulders, and Len lapping delicately at the skin between his balls and ass, pressing experimentally. He arched up as the sensations overwhelmed him, and Len hadn’t even touched his cock yet.
He yelped in surprise when that tongue pressed firmly against his ass, licking with broad strokes. His vision was going fuzzy, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He was panting now, hands scrabbling at the satin sheets (a part of his mind made a note to tease Len for satin sheets once he got control back) as the sensations became overwhelming. Len’s fingers were in him now, the soft burn driving him insane.
“Len, please… pleasepleasepleaseplease!” he whined, cock twitching. He wanted Len in him now! and he needed it like he needed air. He felt Len’s chuckle, the vibrations echoing into his legs, and then the tongue and fingers left him and he jerked, whining in loss. He sighed into Len’s mouth when the man kissed him again, draping over him like a furry security blanket.
“Sh, darlin’. Just let me do this,” Len murmured, kissing him again in that slow, drugging way, and he felt disconnected, even though every nerve ending was on fire, and his cock was begging for release. He was brought back to himself abruptly when he heard the crinkle of condom wrapper and the snap of a tube of lube being opened. He tried to look down, but Len distracted him with kisses and nips, and playing with his nipples. Part of his brain rationalized that Len was pretty big, certainly bigger than he’d had before, but then Len was kissing him and pushing into him, so soft, so gentle, and the only thing he could think was ’more, faster’.
“Nngh…” was all he could get out, trying to articulate his need. Len was laughing again, still moving in that slow, insistent slide, the burn of it making Jim mindless.
“Is this what you wanted, Jim?” Len’s voice was like velvet rubbed the wrong way, and infinitely lower than it had been even a moment before, and Jim looked up into those green-brown eyes and became lost, reveling in the fact that this man was his, and his alone; at least for now. Len finally slid all the way in, balls snug against Jim’s ass, and Jim was able to breathe again, the fullness of it all taking him to a different world where everything was backward; up was down, left was south, and he felt like the most important thing ever. And then Len began to move.
Each thrust was like a slow jackhammer, smooth but strong, hitting his prostate with every thrust because he was so tight and Len was so big. He still hadn’t had any attention to his cock, but the stars behind his eyes made it so that that wasn’t important. He was keening now, beyond words, arching up into the thrusts, wanting more, needing something that only Len could supply. His attention tunneled to the feel of Len, all of him: the harsh pants in his ear, the feel of those strong fingers pressing into his hips, and the inexorable glide of his cock, which was quickly becoming an addiction.
He threw his head back with a gasp when Len changed angles, effectively bruising his prostate, and finally, finally, words escaped. “Harder, faster, please…” he didn’t even know if he was saying them out loud, but when Len lifted his hips higher and started slamming into him, faster, faster… A thumb glanced over the tip of his cock and he was lost, vaguely aware of a high-pitched groan and hot liquid splashing up on his chest before all rational thought left him.
He came to with Len thrusting slowly, lazily, as his cock softened, and when the older man pulled out, Jim whimpered at the sense of loss. He was gathered up and pulled toward the shower, and let Len wash him like he was a doll. He was too sated to care one way or the other. Once they were back in Len’s bedroom, he curled up with him, head on his shoulder.
“…Wow…” he said finally, quietly, desperate not to break the comfortable feeling between them. Len’s chuckle proved that he hadn’t, and an absent kiss was placed on his hair.
“You liked it?” Len’s voice was crushed velvet now, or whiskey, and he shivered, pressing closer. He didn’t want to move from this, and was glad they had all the time in the world now to perfect this.
Fill: Escaping Reality 10/9 (Epilogue Pt. 1)bandearg_roisOctober 9 2010, 16:08:12 UTC
They were together for three glorious months, before reality came crashing down in the form of his mother showing up at the bookstore when Len was in class.
"Jimmy," she said quietly, and Jim just flipped the sign. He was 18 now, what in the hell was she doing here?
"Hi Winona." He was mutely satisfied by her flinch, and led her into the back, sitting behind his boss's desk. "What brings you to Oxford?"
"You. You need to come home, Jimmy."
"I'm a legal adult, and I like it here."
"Working in a bookstore for chump change? Taking night classes? What's not to like?" Winona replied, sarcasm heavy in her voice.
"I have a life here, Winona, which is a hell of a lot more than what I had there." He changed the subject. "You get rid of Barry yet?"
"No. He's worried about you, Jimmy, he - "
"He just wants his eye candy back and to have another chance at my ass. I'm not going back to Iowa, and there's no way you're making me." He stood, wondering why in the hell he'd indulged her enough to talk to her in the first place. "I'll show you out." He overrode her protests and led her to the door, letting her out and turning the sign back to 'open.' Ken was due by to get him for lunch in a few minutes, and his boss should be back from the bank before that.
He had put Winona out of his head by the time Len came to pick him up, and pulled him into one of their usual kisses, which would have terrorized anyone on the street even 2 centuries before. "Hi, Len," he murmured before running around and jumping in the passenger seat.
"Hey, Jim. Who's that blonde lady?" Winona was standing outside the bookstore; he'd run right past her after hearing Len's honk, and she was staring in horror at the two of them.
"Just some old lady," he answered with nonchalance he didn't feel. "Let's go." Len raised an eyebrow, but obediently drove to the next town over, where they ate munch at some out of the way mom'n'pop, exchanging kisses along with their food. Jim again put Winona from his mind, grinning at Len, who was looking more relaxed than he had that morning.
"What?" Len asked, and he just smiled, grabbing Len's hand.
"So, did you pass your test?"
"With flying colors, as you predicted." Len looked down at his food, playing with it for a moment before tightening his grip on Jim's hand. Jim quirked his head, curious as to this display. "Jim, I already talked to Gloria; you want to go out to dinner tonight?"
"Fancy dinner? Not from Darla's?"
"No, I was thinking more along the line of Eve's Garden."
"Um... sure, Len. I'm always up for going out with you, you know that. I love you." Jim immediately shut his mouth and yanked his hand away. Why did I say that?' he thought to himself, bracing himself for Len's reaction.
"Jim... Jim, look at me." Len's tone was gentle, and he cautiously looked up at him, expecting the worst. What he was greeted with, however, was the best thing ever. Len's hazel eyes were wide, as was the unrepentant grin that stretched across his face. "I love you, too."
The rest of his day at the bookstore was spent on Cloud Nine, and he kissed Gloria, his boss, on the cheek before he went home to change. By the time Len got home from class to take a shower, he was happily putting the finishing touches on the suit that Len had insisted he get weeks before, 'just in case.' Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to Eve's Garden, the classiest restaurant in town.
Re: Fill: Escaping Reality 11/9 (Epilogue Pt. 2)bandearg_roisOctober 9 2010, 19:14:23 UTC
They had an enjoyable meal, and Len even dragged him onto the floor for a few dances. By the time they ordered dessert, Jim noticed that the tension in Len's shoulders had grown, even though his face was about the most relaxed he'd ever seen it outside of sex.
"Len? What's wrong?" Len jumped as if he'd poked him, and sighed; at least the sigh wasn't angsty.
"Nothin', darlin'," he answered, even as dessert arrived. Nestled in with the piece of cake on his plate was a small box, the kind used for trinkets or jewelry.
"Len?" he asked slowly, looking up at his lover. Len was blushing, which under any other circumstances would have prompted teasing, since he didn't do it often, but the older man deftly plucked the box from Jim's plate. "Len?"
"Jim, I know we've only known each other a few months, but I'm in love with you, and I can't see my life without you. Will you marry me?" Jim was speechless.
"Len... You don't even know my name."
"I know you're Jim, and that you have a secret enjoyment for chick flicks and chocolate ice cream. I know that you have a little mole right under your collar line. I don't need your last name to know all of that. Names mean nothing, really, except something to call you, and I already have that."
"Len..." he choked out over the lump in his throat. What kind of luck did he have, to get this incredible man, and be practically begged to keep him to himself. "...Yes." Nothing else would come out, none of the logical arguments that cropped out, none of the explanations. He was crushed into a hug and held on just as tight, before kissing Len softly.
That night, after celebrating, Jim was curled up with Len when something was hyposprayed into his neck and he thrashed in alarm. Len didn't move at all, except to breathe, and as he was dragged under by the drugs flowing in his system, he tried to grab Len's hand. He had almost gotten hold when he lost consciousness.
He woke up in his bedroom, feeling like he'd been hit by a hovertruck. He looked over at the chronometer. It read as July 22, 2251. How in the hell had he lost over a year of his life? He was only supposed to be 17, and now he was nearly halfway to 19.
"Mom?" he called cautiously, not sure if Winona was home or not.
"Hold on, honey, I'm coming!" Winona called, and soon he was engulfed in a hug almost as tight as the one he'd gotten upon his return from Tarsus. "I'm so glad you're awake!"
"What happened?" He couldn't remember anything past hitting Barry with a lamp and jumping out of his window, two days before his 17th birthday.
"You were in an accident, and you fell into a coma. We were afraid you wouldn't wake up." Winona Kirk was an excellent liar, but he could tell she wasn't telling the truth. He didn't have the energy to call her on it; instead he let her hug him and wondered when she was going back into the stars.
"Where's Barry?"
"He's gone. You're old enough to take care of yourself when I'm called out."
Re: Fill: Escaping Reality 11/9 (Epilogue Pt. 2)bandearg_roisOctober 9 2010, 19:24:37 UTC
I'm going to link to the completed cleaned up version of this as soon as I have it up. But I wanted to get the end of this out before I did it so no one is waiting forever.
“Well, I’ll pay my share, regardless,” he said, feeling something in his chest tighten at the slow grin that took over Len’s face. He ruthlessly quelled the urge to touch that dimple and smiled back instead.
“So you’ll come?” At Jim’s nod, Len’s grin got larger, if that was possible, and once they’d finished eating and paid (Jim insisted, since Len was taking him in and all), he dragged Jim to an old cargo-transport car, which was barely newer than the convertible Jim had crashed at age 9. It ran well, though, and he picked up what little bits he’d left in his room at the flop house, and had gotten installed In the rather spacious apartment just off campus before he had to run to make it to his class on time.
After his class he went back to the apartment and was surprised when the only picture he had of his whole family (him, his mom, and his brother, before Sam had taken off) was settled next to a picture of Len’s family, and the old quilt he’d stolen from his house in Iowa was folded over the back of the couch. Len was in the kitchen, cooking something or other, and he wandered that way, absently putting his bag on the couch as he went.
“You unpacked my shit?” he asked, puzzled.
“No reason for it all to be in your room if you’re gonna live here, too, right?” Len asked, and Jim barely saw the slow creep of pink that went to the tips of Len’s ears.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, heart clenching again. This man had taken him in without question, and had gone out of his way to make him feel welcome. And he was lying to him and manipulating him… He shook his head mentally. Now was so not the time or place for this. “What’re you cooking? We just ate two hours ago.”
“You just ate two hours ago,” Len countered absently, and then he turned to face him, making Jim quirk a grin at the ridiculous apron the man was wearing, which said ‘I’m the chef. If you don’t like the food, I’ll stab you.’ “I only had some cobbler, which while it was amazingly good, was not a meal. So I’m makin’ some chicken and mushrooms. You hungry?”
“Well, yeah, but… I’m not used to eating so often.” He was actually used to eating in the early morning and then at Darla’s, but he wasn’t going to tell Len that.
Reply
“You don’t have to plate mine, I can get it,” he protested, only to be laughed at as Len piled his plate high.
“Yeah, well, if you plated yourself, you’d starve. I saw how you inhaled the food at the diner, and you’ve been staring at the stove like a hungry lion since you found out I was cooking. You still growing or something?” Jim felt himself flush; his height was a sore subject, since he hadn’t grown past 5’6” in his entire high school career.
“Maybe.”
“How old are you, anyway, JT?” Len asked as they ate.
“18,” he lied, mouth full of the best meal he’d had in months (nothing bad on Darla, but home-cooked just tasted better).
“Liar.”
“Fine. I’ll be 18 soon. Happy?” he asked, swallowing finally and slowing down on his inhalation.
“Maybe. You graduated early, too, huh?”
“What do you mean, too?”
“I’m in my second year of undergrad… how old do you think I am?”
“20?”
“Damn it, kid, I’m not 20… I’m barely 18 m’self.” Jim was surprised; en just acted so mature it was hard to realize that they were nearly the same age.
“Sorry, Len, you just act older.” He ducked his head and resumed his imitation of a human vacuum, cleaning his plate quickly before stepping out on the balcony to have his one cigarette for the day. He was immensely surprised when Len joined him, a cancer stick of his own hanging from a corner of his lip.
“Yeah, I guess I do, at that.” They smoked in silence, and Jim had to keep reminding himself not to stare at Len, since Len was most probably straight, and that would end his stay at Chez McCoy. When they were finished, Len led him into the living room and turned on the vid, looking for something to watch. Jim curled up in his quilt, still cold even though it wasn’t too cold outside, and the apartment wasn’t very chilly. Len settled on some mindless action movie and settled in with popcorn which Jim occasionally snaked a hand out to sample.
Jim was woken by a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he reacted, thrashing in the comforter before a familiar voice broke through his panic attack.
“JT, wake up, kid,” Len rumbled, hands on his shoulders, stopping his shakes. “Calm down, kid, it’s just me, you’re safe.”
“How long w’s I ‘sleep?” he mumbled, untangling himself and refolding the quilt on the couch.
“About an hour. The movie just ended when you started whining in your sleep. You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a nightmare. I’m gonna head to bed now… I gotta be at work by 7.”
Reply
Reply
Reply
Len was putting out bowls of some sort of oatmeal, and he wolfed his down quickly before heading out for his run. He always ran the circuit around the campus in the morning, especially when he couldn’t sleep the night before, and he was surprised when Len joined him in a pair of shorts and a ratty ‘Ole Miss’ t-shirt.
Their run was completed in a comfortable kind of silence that Jim had never experienced before, which unnerved him to the point that he bolted through his shower and ran off with a hurried wave and a piece of toast that Len had nearly thrown at him before he left the apartment. He made it to the store early, and despite the awkward tightness in his chest, he felt better than he had since he’d run away.
When Len met him at closing time, it was nearly a repeat of the night before: they went to Darla’s, where he ate three servings of something that was amazingly good for being full of grease, while Len just had coffee, before heading off to another class. He came home (Home? It felt right.) to something delicious to eat, and another random movie that he slept through, thankfully without nightmares.
The routine continued for two months, until a car accident changed everything again. Len had been T-boned going through an intersection, and was laid up in the hospital with critical injuries, and Jim wasn’t allowed to visit him until after he’d woken, which meant days of silence and moping through the days, and nearly starving simply because he couldn’t bring himself to cook anything, though he knew how to.
When Len got out of the hospital and was able to go back to normal activities, Jim became his shadow, as much as possible, a role reversal that wasn’t lost on him. He managed to get away with it for over a week before Len got fed up with it and confronted him.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, hating that even now, his voice apparently wasn’t finished changing, as the pitch cracked and lowered halfway through the sentence. “It was hard to think - “ he cut himself off, not wanting to finish that sentence, though the words hung in the air anyway. “That you could be dead.” He was utterly surprised when Len’s arms came around him in a hug; neither of them were very physical with the other, and especially not to the extent of hugs. “Len?” It was weird in that Len was shirtless, though it felt kind of good, too.
“You thought you’d lost me, huh Jim?” He’d finally told Len that his first name was Jim, if only to stop those flashbacks. He couldn’t answer in words, so he just nodded into the shoulder that had been much taller just a few short months before. “Hell, darlin’, I kinda thought I’d lost it, too.” Jim looked up quickly, opening his mouth to say something, and was silenced by Len’s mouth.
Reply
When they surfaced from the kiss, Jim couldn’t remember the topic they’d been talking about. Hell, he could barely remember his own name. Len kissed him again, slow and sweet, making Jim’s toes curl into the carpet under their bare feet. The kiss was drugging, and he suddenly found himself laying back on the couch, Len crouching over him, hands running down his sides to reach the hem of his shirt. Groaning, he shifted to give more access, yelping in surprised pleasure when Len’s mouth found his nipple through his shirt, teasing it with tongue and teeth.
He scrabbled ineffectively at Len’s back, sighing as his shirt was finally removed and he was able to be chest to chest with Len, and the gasp wrenched from Len proved that the Southern man’s nipples were just as sensitive as his. They made out on the couch for awhile, alternating between frantic and slow, the juxtaposition driving Jim mad with want, the want to do something, the want to find out how far this was going.
Len finally pulled back a little, staring down at him with those green, green eyes, pupils completely blown, breathing ragged. Jim’s own breath caught at the picture presented, brain short-circuiting as Len licked his lips. When it seemed like Len would leave him on the couch, he wrapped a hand around the Georgian’s arm, looking into those eyes, trying to figure out what he was doing. He received a long kiss to his pulse point for his trouble, and a shaky chuckle.
“Just wanna get us more comfortable, darlin’, that’s all.” He was pulled up by Len, who caught him when his knees buckled, and they somehow made it into Len’s room, pants falling by the wayside as well. When Len brought them into full contact knee to chest, Jim whimpered, partly in desire, but partly in terror, too. This was going faster than he thought it would, and it wasn’t that he was a virgin (yeah, not so much, he’d done it before), it was the feelings again, which were going to destroy him one of these days.
“Jim?” Len asked, stopping all movement abruptly. “You okay?” The concern coming from him made Jim’s heart melt, and he relaxed. Whatever was going to happen, Len was going to be his friend for a long time, so why was he worrying?
“Yeah, Len, I’m okay,” he answered, flipping their positions and pinning Len to the bed. It was his turn to turn Len into a writhing mass of nerves and sensation. He started by licking that little hollow at the hinge of Len’s jaw, receiving a hitching sigh in response. He set out to find out the places that Len liked, the ones that would get moans and sighs, and groans, especially when he experimented with those nipples. He was moving down Len’s body systematically, finding out that Len’s bellybutton was extremely sensitive, drawing almost a squeak from Len, and he probably shouldn’t have laughed, but it was funny. He was suddenly flipped onto his back, their positions reversed as Len traced a path of fire down his body, earning that squeak more than once. Jim’s brain was literally melting, it had to be; he could barely see, and the sensations coming from some parts of his body had to be impossible, had to be imagined.
Reply
He yelped in surprise when that tongue pressed firmly against his ass, licking with broad strokes. His vision was going fuzzy, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He was panting now, hands scrabbling at the satin sheets (a part of his mind made a note to tease Len for satin sheets once he got control back) as the sensations became overwhelming. Len’s fingers were in him now, the soft burn driving him insane.
“Len, please… pleasepleasepleaseplease!” he whined, cock twitching. He wanted Len in him now! and he needed it like he needed air. He felt Len’s chuckle, the vibrations echoing into his legs, and then the tongue and fingers left him and he jerked, whining in loss. He sighed into Len’s mouth when the man kissed him again, draping over him like a furry security blanket.
“Sh, darlin’. Just let me do this,” Len murmured, kissing him again in that slow, drugging way, and he felt disconnected, even though every nerve ending was on fire, and his cock was begging for release. He was brought back to himself abruptly when he heard the crinkle of condom wrapper and the snap of a tube of lube being opened. He tried to look down, but Len distracted him with kisses and nips, and playing with his nipples. Part of his brain rationalized that Len was pretty big, certainly bigger than he’d had before, but then Len was kissing him and pushing into him, so soft, so gentle, and the only thing he could think was ’more, faster’.
“Nngh…” was all he could get out, trying to articulate his need. Len was laughing again, still moving in that slow, insistent slide, the burn of it making Jim mindless.
“Is this what you wanted, Jim?” Len’s voice was like velvet rubbed the wrong way, and infinitely lower than it had been even a moment before, and Jim looked up into those green-brown eyes and became lost, reveling in the fact that this man was his, and his alone; at least for now. Len finally slid all the way in, balls snug against Jim’s ass, and Jim was able to breathe again, the fullness of it all taking him to a different world where everything was backward; up was down, left was south, and he felt like the most important thing ever.
And then Len began to move.
Reply
He threw his head back with a gasp when Len changed angles, effectively bruising his prostate, and finally, finally, words escaped. “Harder, faster, please…” he didn’t even know if he was saying them out loud, but when Len lifted his hips higher and started slamming into him, faster, faster… A thumb glanced over the tip of his cock and he was lost, vaguely aware of a high-pitched groan and hot liquid splashing up on his chest before all rational thought left him.
He came to with Len thrusting slowly, lazily, as his cock softened, and when the older man pulled out, Jim whimpered at the sense of loss. He was gathered up and pulled toward the shower, and let Len wash him like he was a doll. He was too sated to care one way or the other. Once they were back in Len’s bedroom, he curled up with him, head on his shoulder.
“…Wow…” he said finally, quietly, desperate not to break the comfortable feeling between them. Len’s chuckle proved that he hadn’t, and an absent kiss was placed on his hair.
“You liked it?” Len’s voice was crushed velvet now, or whiskey, and he shivered, pressing closer. He didn’t want to move from this, and was glad they had all the time in the world now to perfect this.
He was beyond wrong.
Reply
Reply
Sorry I killed your brain but I'm really happy that you liked it.
Should I continue it to Jim being dragged home? Or leave that for the cleaned-up version?
Reply
Reply
Fear not, dear one, it's on its way.... *runs off to figure out who comes to get Jim*
Reply
"Jimmy," she said quietly, and Jim just flipped the sign. He was 18 now, what in the hell was she doing here?
"Hi Winona." He was mutely satisfied by her flinch, and led her into the back, sitting behind his boss's desk. "What brings you to Oxford?"
"You. You need to come home, Jimmy."
"I'm a legal adult, and I like it here."
"Working in a bookstore for chump change? Taking night classes? What's not to like?" Winona replied, sarcasm heavy in her voice.
"I have a life here, Winona, which is a hell of a lot more than what I had there." He changed the subject. "You get rid of Barry yet?"
"No. He's worried about you, Jimmy, he - "
"He just wants his eye candy back and to have another chance at my ass. I'm not going back to Iowa, and there's no way you're making me." He stood, wondering why in the hell he'd indulged her enough to talk to her in the first place. "I'll show you out." He overrode her protests and led her to the door, letting her out and turning the sign back to 'open.' Ken was due by to get him for lunch in a few minutes, and his boss should be back from the bank before that.
He had put Winona out of his head by the time Len came to pick him up, and pulled him into one of their usual kisses, which would have terrorized anyone on the street even 2 centuries before. "Hi, Len," he murmured before running around and jumping in the passenger seat.
"Hey, Jim. Who's that blonde lady?" Winona was standing outside the bookstore; he'd run right past her after hearing Len's honk, and she was staring in horror at the two of them.
"Just some old lady," he answered with nonchalance he didn't feel. "Let's go." Len raised an eyebrow, but obediently drove to the next town over, where they ate munch at some out of the way mom'n'pop, exchanging kisses along with their food. Jim again put Winona from his mind, grinning at Len, who was looking more relaxed than he had that morning.
"What?" Len asked, and he just smiled, grabbing Len's hand.
"So, did you pass your test?"
"With flying colors, as you predicted." Len looked down at his food, playing with it for a moment before tightening his grip on Jim's hand. Jim quirked his head, curious as to this display. "Jim, I already talked to Gloria; you want to go out to dinner tonight?"
"Fancy dinner? Not from Darla's?"
"No, I was thinking more along the line of Eve's Garden."
"Um... sure, Len. I'm always up for going out with you, you know that. I love you." Jim immediately shut his mouth and yanked his hand away. Why did I say that?' he thought to himself, bracing himself for Len's reaction.
"Jim... Jim, look at me." Len's tone was gentle, and he cautiously looked up at him, expecting the worst. What he was greeted with, however, was the best thing ever. Len's hazel eyes were wide, as was the unrepentant grin that stretched across his face. "I love you, too."
The rest of his day at the bookstore was spent on Cloud Nine, and he kissed Gloria, his boss, on the cheek before he went home to change. By the time Len got home from class to take a shower, he was happily putting the finishing touches on the suit that Len had insisted he get weeks before, 'just in case.' Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to Eve's Garden, the classiest restaurant in town.
Reply
"Len? What's wrong?" Len jumped as if he'd poked him, and sighed; at least the sigh wasn't angsty.
"Nothin', darlin'," he answered, even as dessert arrived. Nestled in with the piece of cake on his plate was a small box, the kind used for trinkets or jewelry.
"Len?" he asked slowly, looking up at his lover. Len was blushing, which under any other circumstances would have prompted teasing, since he didn't do it often, but the older man deftly plucked the box from Jim's plate. "Len?"
"Jim, I know we've only known each other a few months, but I'm in love with you, and I can't see my life without you. Will you marry me?" Jim was speechless.
"Len... You don't even know my name."
"I know you're Jim, and that you have a secret enjoyment for chick flicks and chocolate ice cream. I know that you have a little mole right under your collar line. I don't need your last name to know all of that. Names mean nothing, really, except something to call you, and I already have that."
"Len..." he choked out over the lump in his throat. What kind of luck did he have, to get this incredible man, and be practically begged to keep him to himself. "...Yes." Nothing else would come out, none of the logical arguments that cropped out, none of the explanations. He was crushed into a hug and held on just as tight, before kissing Len softly.
That night, after celebrating, Jim was curled up with Len when something was hyposprayed into his neck and he thrashed in alarm. Len didn't move at all, except to breathe, and as he was dragged under by the drugs flowing in his system, he tried to grab Len's hand. He had almost gotten hold when he lost consciousness.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
He woke up in his bedroom, feeling like he'd been hit by a hovertruck. He looked over at the chronometer. It read as July 22, 2251. How in the hell had he lost over a year of his life? He was only supposed to be 17, and now he was nearly halfway to 19.
"Mom?" he called cautiously, not sure if Winona was home or not.
"Hold on, honey, I'm coming!" Winona called, and soon he was engulfed in a hug almost as tight as the one he'd gotten upon his return from Tarsus. "I'm so glad you're awake!"
"What happened?" He couldn't remember anything past hitting Barry with a lamp and jumping out of his window, two days before his 17th birthday.
"You were in an accident, and you fell into a coma. We were afraid you wouldn't wake up." Winona Kirk was an excellent liar, but he could tell she wasn't telling the truth. He didn't have the energy to call her on it; instead he let her hug him and wondered when she was going back into the stars.
"Where's Barry?"
"He's gone. You're old enough to take care of yourself when I'm called out."
Good. He would be fine on his own.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment