Bank Shot: Overdue Item (Love Fest Entry # 2)
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: **** for public sex, slight kink and toys.
Summary: Jack goes to meet Ennis at the library. Will they study quietly or make all sorts of noise? This is Part 2 of 3 LoveFest entries.
Dedication: To
fizzerbass. You know why.
Thanks: To
poppyhoney_67 for taking time out to beta this for me and make sure there is nary a magically spurting condom in sight.
A/N: If you want to see what I mean when I say study desk, or study carrel, or cubicle, click here. You kind of need to picture this to know what I'm getting at. Thanks!
LoveFest: Overdue Item
You didn't run, you didn't lie
You knew I wanted just to hold you
And had you gone you knew in time we'd meet again
For I had told you
Ooh, you were meant to be near me
Ooh, and I want you hear me
Say we'll be together every day
Got to get you into my life...
(Got To Get You Into My Life - The Beatles)
<><><><><>
Jack,
Central Library, 12th Floor, study desk closest to the wall, 8:00 pm tonight.
Ennis
Jack hastily pocketed Ennis’s note when Sam came back to the security booth. Jack didn’t look up and, for once, Sam was silent. Every once in a while Jack would catch Sam looking at him speculatively then his eyes would skitter nervously back to the security monitors. It was like they were stuck in an elevator, listening to the Muzak version of “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, staring with slight desperation at the lights announcing each floor.
Jack was starting to think he was going to escape without talking about what happened when Sam cleared his throat. Jack’s shoulders tensed. And so it began…
“So, uh, I want to thank you for, you know, covering for me and Mrs. Henderson,” Sam said.
Jack could feel a headache forming between his eyes. He had no clue what Sam was getting at but he was sensing this would not end well. Best to just play along and take his punishment like a good boy.
So Jack answered with a catch-all phrase he’d learned to perfect over the fifteen years he and Sam had been best friends. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, man, cause I’m sure you saw in the security monitor that - through the wonders of technology - picks up images from the security cameras, that Mrs. Henderson and I had a little tryst in the bank vault.”
“Shut up.”
“Cause how can anybody, especially a trained security officer, who can see all of this from three different angles, fail to notice when Mrs. Henderson revealed a perfectly turned ankle at me when I dropped my keys conveniently on the floor. Whoo! Hot stuff! I’m surprised we didn’t short circuit the system.”
“Excuse me, let me expand my last statement. Shut the fuck up.”
“So glad you didn’t blow the whistle on us. But wait! That’s because you’d just finished blowing something else.”
“Keep your voice down! Jesus! What are you all bent out of shape about? You were like Yente the village matchmaker a half hour ago. It’s a wonder you didn’t strip me naked and roll me up in a rug as a gift to the neigbouring warlord.”
“Christ, Jack, I thought I was helping you get his number. How did you guys make the jump from Follow me, Mr. del Mar to re-enacting the last twenty minutes of Night of the Giving Head?”
Jack began to laugh. He would have patted himself on the back if he could. “C’mon, Sam, take a chill pill. An opportunity, umm, arose, and I took it.”
“Yeah, couldn’t help but see all that arising going on.” Sam took a second to lower his voice. “Jack, you know nothing about this guy. What if he’s a closet case and he’s married, with a wife, and kids? Worse, what if he’s a head case with his victims’ body parts carefully labeled in ZipLoc bags in his freezer? Is that what you want as the title to your autobiography? I Deep Throated An Axe Murderer?”
“Oh puhleeze. Spare me the Stranger Danger lecture, Officer Krupke. How many times have I seen you leave a bar with some hottie for the express purpose of getting laid,” Jack scoffed.
“Many many times, I cannot tell a lie. It’s a gift. But the handcuff thing tells me this guy might be more than you can handle. You’re a dreamer, Jack. You’re into flower petals on the bed and walks on the beach and his and his walk-in closets. I mean, shit, I wear more leather than you do to the Pride Parade. You’re not into the scene, man.”
“But…what if I want to be?” Jack asked, wondering out loud.
Sam leaned in, searching Jack’s eyes. “Jack, man, fuck. If that’s what this is about then you better find out more about this guy. You should experiment with people who know what they’re doing, people you trust. I just, I don’t think that’s you, man,” Sam shrugged. “Plus, your pain threshold is negative zero. You get a paper cut and you’re popping Advils all day. I think you just got off on the danger part, and the fact you’ve been fantasizing over this guy for, like, forever.”
Jack nodded absently. Sam knew him pretty well, and a lot of what he said made sense. “Well, I guess I’ll find out tonight,” Jack said, without thinking. Oh shit, what is it today with his runaway mouth?
“Tonight?” Sam asked, although his tone was more “Spill it!” than “Is that so?”
“Umm,” Jack answered. He knew Sam was going to wrestle it out of him anyways so he reached into his pocket and handed him Ennis’s note. He watched Sam read it, close his eyes, shake his head, then straighten his shoulders. Oh double shit. Jack knew what it meant when Sam puffed himself up like that. Sam was getting all Chewbacca, ready to take out any Storm Troopers who had a bead on Han Solo.
“No,” Jack said.
“It’s only for your safety, Jack.”
“No. Are you fucking nuts? You are not going with me.”
“Lucille will kill me if I let you go down there and you wind up as a Missing Persons Ad on a milk carton. You, I can live without. Her? No.”
“You’re treating me like I’m a Jet going into Shark territory. I’m a big boy, Sam. I can take care of myself.” He could see from the look on Sam’s face that Sam was trying to figure out how to play this.
Sam answered in a calm voice with an undercurrent of steel. “Jack, who listened to you practice your coming out speech long before you told your Mama?”
Jack’s shoulders dropped. He knew he’d lost. “You,” he answered quietly.
“And whose bedroom window did you climb into after your Dad kicked you out?”
“Yours.”
“And who kicked Danny Buchowski’s ass when he spray painted Fags R Us on your high school locker?”
“You did.”
The set of Sam’s jaw softened, and he whispered, “And who used up all his life savings and got me checked into rehab? And stopped drinking alcohol all together because if I wasn’t going to drink, he wasn’t going to either? Who saved my life, Jack? Tell me, that.”
Jack sniffed quickly before answering. “I’ve told you before, man, you don’t owe me anything.”
“No, man, I owe you fucking everything. I’m just gonna be there to keep you safe.”
“Okay,” Jack nodded once. “But you have to stay at least one section over.”
“Three desks beside you.”
“Eight. And on the opposite side.”
“Christ, Jack, those desks are like cubicles in a voting booth, completely enclosed on three sides. As soon as I’m sitting down, I won’t be able to see anything all the way over there.”
“That’s the point.”
“How about…,” Sam was cut short by an aggravated sigh that didn’t come from either of them.
They both turned around to find Susan the bank teller standing behind them, arms crossed, lips tightened disapprovingly.
“Sorry to break up this little meeting of the Breakfast Club, but aren’t you guys supposed to be making rounds, or, you know, guarding this place?”
Jack and Sam nodded their heads.
“Well then? Get to it!” she ordered, marching back to her kiosk.
“Christ,” said Jack, “she is such a badass.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s so hot.”
“I know, I’d bang her myself if I wasn’t a capital H homo," said Jack. Jack and Sam burst out laughing, chuckling softly as they made their rounds.
<><><><><><><><>
Holy shit, Jack was nervous.
As soon as he got home he took an extra long shower. The water temperature was colder than he liked; an unfortunate necessity because he’d been hard since earlier today. Good thing he was heading to a library because he had an orgasm that was long overdue.
It took him an hour to figure out which pair of jeans (button-down, definitely) and what T-shirt (white, hides certain splatters really well) and how many condoms to put in his pocket (three, oh please please please). He’d convinced his guard dog he wanted to go to the library on his own, pretend Sam wasn’t even around. That way, if Ennis was watching, he wouldn’t get freaked out at the fact that Jack had a chaperone.
Jack saw the study carrels and walked towards them. He looked up at the sign that told him what section he was in. Eastern Philosophy. No wonder this place was deserted. There were two rows of cubicles perpendicular to the window, set up so the front partition on one desk was flush against the front partition of the desk on the opposite row. About six desks side by side made up one row. He approached the first row and looked towards the window. Someone was already sitting there. His heart beat faster.
He took a few steps forward, heading for the second row, and saw Sam was already sitting down at the first desk in the second row; the farthest desk from the window. Sam gave him a grim smile and held up a piece of paper that said, “Your safe word is: Ryan Seacrest.”
Jack rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Fuck you.” Sam immediately turned the paper over and pointed to the words he’d written before Jack even got there: “No, fuck YOU.”
Jack shook his head, feeling himself relax. He was wired and horny, but he felt strangely safe, knowing Sam was around to alert him if anyone came close to this area.
He got to the desk by the window and caught a quick glimpse of the dirty blonde curls of the man sitting opposite him, the rest was hidden from his line of vision. He looked out the window briefly and a tingle went down his spine. Even though he couldn’t be seen from the street, someone looking out from the other wing in the library might be able to see him. The thought of it sent an electric current to his dick.
As soon as he was sitting, he saw there was a brown envelope on the desk. He opened it and read:
Make no sound.
Hands on top of the desk.
Slide down the chair as far as possible.
He inhaled sharply and thanked God he was already sitting. Now if only he could stop his head from spinning.
He slowly shimmied in his chair as far down as possible, until only his back and his tailbone remained on the chair. The position was a bit uncomfortable until he figured out he could grip the top of the desk with his hands to keep him steady. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, trying to keep it as soundless as possible. He heard a rustling sound from directly in front of him, and he wished he had X-ray vision so he could see what was going on. Although, part of the excitement was not seeing, and opening his senses up to whatever came next.
His breathing hitched when he felt a hand on his knee. Just a simple touch, hardly any pressure, but, oh man, even through the denim of his jeans, it was like a branding iron had touched his skin. His knees began to tremble and the hand pressed down a bit harder, moving in slow, soothing circles. The touch succeeded in settling him, and his knees stopped shaking. Thus, he was better prepared for when his other knee received the same treatment.
The hands began to massage down his calves, then back up again boldly until they were on his thighs. He stifled a groan; he wanted the hands to go faster. But he also liked how they were kneading his legs, leaving only the aching muscle between them untouched, urging his thighs to open wider.
His cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans now and his hands were shaking with the effort to keep them on the desk and not stroke himself. He couldn’t stop his hiss of gratitude when suddenly impatient hands unbuttoned his jeans and he was finally, mercifully, free. He thought he heard a gasp below him and he smiled smugly.
Fingers circled his cock firmly, a thumb grazing the tip with a feather light touch. He scooched down even lower in his chair, hoping his cock was merely inches from a waiting mouth. Sweet fuck, he was right.
A tongue smoothed over the head of his cock. One, two, three strokes. And then his aching shaft was being swallowed down a hot, wet and welcoming throat. God yes.
The hands now bracketed his hips, angling him for maximum pleasure. The mouth that sucked him was enthusiastic, the tongue doing wonderfully creative things to his shaft. Although the mouth never left him, he felt one of the hands leave him briefly and he heard the unmistakable click of a flip top being opened and closed. Lube.
He knew it was going to happen, but he still jerked in surprise when a lubed finger entered his hole. Ahhh, fuck. He was having a hard time gripping the desk, his hands now slippery with sweat. A second finger, then a third. Oh Jesus, so full. He didn’t know which way to thrust. Towards the hungry mouth milking him, or backwards to the fingers that filled him. Either way sent explosions to his brain. He tasted blood in his mouth from him biting his tongue to stay quiet.
He was just about ready to shoot when he felt the fingers leave him. He didn’t know whether to cry with disappointment or sigh with relief. His relief was short-lived, however, when he heard the lube cap being opened and shut again. More lube? What next? The answer came quickly when he felt something blunt and thick nudging at his opening, then push slowly into his ass. A dildo, God help me.
He couldn’t stop it -- he grunted. A deep, needy sound that sounded pitiful even to his own ears. Immediately the mouth and the dildo were gone. No, no, no, oh fuck. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, swallowing his moans. I'll be quiet, I want you, please, I need, I need….
The mouth came back and so did the dildo. Harder and hotter and faster than ever. Thank you, oh yes, thank you. The dildo was going deep now, pushing his cock into the back of Ennis’s throat with each thrust. Close, so close, please, oh please, almost, oh fuck, more, more, yes, oh God, yes, yes!
His mouth opened in a soundless scream as he came, thrusting with such force he heard the distinct sound of something hitting the desk with a loud thump. Oh shit. I came in his mouth so hard I either choked him to death or cracked his head open. Way to go, Twist. Nothing says I want to spend the rest of my life with you than giving Prince Charming a concussion.
Thankfully, his ears picked up another sound, a stifled chuckle. He felt hands pulling his pants up, tucking him back in and buttoning him up. He was just about to get his ass back on the chair when he felt a soft kiss land on his clothed dick. It was almost as mind-blowing as his orgasm.
He leaned forward and put his head on the desk, his eyes closed, feeling the afterglow. Plus his lower back needed the relief. He had no idea how long he stayed that way, just enjoying being in his own skin, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
His head came up and instantly he was engulfed in warm arms, his lips taken in a deep kiss that tasted of him. His hands snaked out around Ennis’s waist, pulling Ennis closer as he knelt beside Jack.
“You’re so amazing,” Ennis whispered between soft fluttery kisses. “I was supposed to leave right after. Melt into the shadows after giving you this.”
Ennis put another envelope on the desk. Jack’s hands were busy kneading Ennis’s back; he figured he’d look in the envelope later.
“But,” Ennis continued, “I couldn’t go without telling you…without saying…”
Jack held his breath when he saw what was in Ennis’s eyes. Something soft and tender and infinitely precious.
“You matter to me,” Ennis said, voice clogged with emotion. “Thank you for trusting me.” Ennis leaned forward and gave him another searing kiss before standing up. Jack’s eyes noted the wet spot on Ennis’s jeans and stifled a laugh. Ennis looked down as well, shrugged ruefully, gave Jack a lopsided grin then turned away.
Jack watched Ennis take a few steps forward then stop abruptly. Ennis turned around to face Jack again, both hands in his pockets.
“I hope...,” Ennis said shyly, his eyes going to the envelope on the desk briefly, before looking back at Jack.
Jack didn’t even glance at the envelope. “I’ll be there,” he answered.
“You don’t even…what if you…”
“I’ll be there,” Jack repeated.
Ennis’s smile was like the sun peeking through clouds. Ennis nodded once, pointedly zipping up his jacket to cover up the wet spot on his jeans, ruefully rubbed the top of his head, quirked a brow at Jack, then turned and walked away.
Jack stared after Ennis long after he was gone. He barely registered the shadowy figure of Sam unfolding himself from the desk he’d been sitting at and pulling up a chair right beside Jack.
“How’s a person supposed to study with all that racket going on?” Sam teased.
Jack began to laugh, the happiest he’d been in his whole entire life.
“My safe word is Ryan Seacrest? Are you fucked in the head?”
“Well from the look of you, boy, and the sounds I heard, I think the fucked one is you.”
“Naw,” Jack said smugly. “He used a dildo.” Sam looked like Wile E. Coyote right after an anvil dropped on his head. “Now will you make yourself useful and help me up? I might have some trouble walking out of here. Well, walking, period.”
Sam snorted as he stood and gave Jack a hand up. “You are such a slut, Jack Twist.”
“Not for long, my man. It’s gonna be Jack Twist del Mar by this time next year. Mark my words.”
Jack’s laughter drowned out Sam’s exaggerated groan.
<><><><><>
Jack’s hands were shaking when he tore open the envelope and shook the contents out onto his bed. He looked at the three items that came out of the envelope, trying to decide which one to pick up first. He went for the neatly folded piece of paper, with some kind of Visitor’s Pass stapled on it.
Jack,
Iguana Lounge, tomorrow night, 11:00 pm.
Bring the toys. Better yet, wear them…inside and out.
Ennis
He picked up the cock ring and the butt plug at the same time, swallowed the lump in his throat, and whispered, “I’ll be there.”
Rating: **** for public sex, slight kink and toys.
Summary: Jack goes to meet Ennis at the library. Will they study quietly or make all sorts of noise? This is Part 2 of 3 LoveFest entries.
Dedication: To
fizzerbass. You know why.
Thanks: To
poppyhoney_67 for taking time out to beta this for me and make sure there is nary a magically spurting condom in sight.
A/N: If you want to see what I mean when I say study desk, or study carrel, or cubicle, click here. You kind of need to picture this to know what I'm getting at. Thanks!
LoveFest: Overdue Item
You didn't run, you didn't lie
You knew I wanted just to hold you
And had you gone you knew in time we'd meet again
For I had told you
Ooh, you were meant to be near me
Ooh, and I want you hear me
Say we'll be together every day
Got to get you into my life...
(Got To Get You Into My Life - The Beatles)
<><><><><>
Jack,
Central Library, 12th Floor, study desk closest to the wall, 8:00 pm tonight.
Ennis
Jack hastily pocketed Ennis’s note when Sam came back to the security booth. Jack didn’t look up and, for once, Sam was silent. Every once in a while Jack would catch Sam looking at him speculatively then his eyes would skitter nervously back to the security monitors. It was like they were stuck in an elevator, listening to the Muzak version of “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, staring with slight desperation at the lights announcing each floor.
Jack was starting to think he was going to escape without talking about what happened when Sam cleared his throat. Jack’s shoulders tensed. And so it began…
“So, uh, I want to thank you for, you know, covering for me and Mrs. Henderson,” Sam said.
Jack could feel a headache forming between his eyes. He had no clue what Sam was getting at but he was sensing this would not end well. Best to just play along and take his punishment like a good boy.
So Jack answered with a catch-all phrase he’d learned to perfect over the fifteen years he and Sam had been best friends. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, man, cause I’m sure you saw in the security monitor that - through the wonders of technology - picks up images from the security cameras, that Mrs. Henderson and I had a little tryst in the bank vault.”
“Shut up.”
“Cause how can anybody, especially a trained security officer, who can see all of this from three different angles, fail to notice when Mrs. Henderson revealed a perfectly turned ankle at me when I dropped my keys conveniently on the floor. Whoo! Hot stuff! I’m surprised we didn’t short circuit the system.”
“Excuse me, let me expand my last statement. Shut the fuck up.”
“So glad you didn’t blow the whistle on us. But wait! That’s because you’d just finished blowing something else.”
“Keep your voice down! Jesus! What are you all bent out of shape about? You were like Yente the village matchmaker a half hour ago. It’s a wonder you didn’t strip me naked and roll me up in a rug as a gift to the neigbouring warlord.”
“Christ, Jack, I thought I was helping you get his number. How did you guys make the jump from Follow me, Mr. del Mar to re-enacting the last twenty minutes of Night of the Giving Head?”
Jack began to laugh. He would have patted himself on the back if he could. “C’mon, Sam, take a chill pill. An opportunity, umm, arose, and I took it.”
“Yeah, couldn’t help but see all that arising going on.” Sam took a second to lower his voice. “Jack, you know nothing about this guy. What if he’s a closet case and he’s married, with a wife, and kids? Worse, what if he’s a head case with his victims’ body parts carefully labeled in ZipLoc bags in his freezer? Is that what you want as the title to your autobiography? I Deep Throated An Axe Murderer?”
“Oh puhleeze. Spare me the Stranger Danger lecture, Officer Krupke. How many times have I seen you leave a bar with some hottie for the express purpose of getting laid,” Jack scoffed.
“Many many times, I cannot tell a lie. It’s a gift. But the handcuff thing tells me this guy might be more than you can handle. You’re a dreamer, Jack. You’re into flower petals on the bed and walks on the beach and his and his walk-in closets. I mean, shit, I wear more leather than you do to the Pride Parade. You’re not into the scene, man.”
“But…what if I want to be?” Jack asked, wondering out loud.
Sam leaned in, searching Jack’s eyes. “Jack, man, fuck. If that’s what this is about then you better find out more about this guy. You should experiment with people who know what they’re doing, people you trust. I just, I don’t think that’s you, man,” Sam shrugged. “Plus, your pain threshold is negative zero. You get a paper cut and you’re popping Advils all day. I think you just got off on the danger part, and the fact you’ve been fantasizing over this guy for, like, forever.”
Jack nodded absently. Sam knew him pretty well, and a lot of what he said made sense. “Well, I guess I’ll find out tonight,” Jack said, without thinking. Oh shit, what is it today with his runaway mouth?
“Tonight?” Sam asked, although his tone was more “Spill it!” than “Is that so?”
“Umm,” Jack answered. He knew Sam was going to wrestle it out of him anyways so he reached into his pocket and handed him Ennis’s note. He watched Sam read it, close his eyes, shake his head, then straighten his shoulders. Oh double shit. Jack knew what it meant when Sam puffed himself up like that. Sam was getting all Chewbacca, ready to take out any Storm Troopers who had a bead on Han Solo.
“No,” Jack said.
“It’s only for your safety, Jack.”
“No. Are you fucking nuts? You are not going with me.”
“Lucille will kill me if I let you go down there and you wind up as a Missing Persons Ad on a milk carton. You, I can live without. Her? No.”
“You’re treating me like I’m a Jet going into Shark territory. I’m a big boy, Sam. I can take care of myself.” He could see from the look on Sam’s face that Sam was trying to figure out how to play this.
Sam answered in a calm voice with an undercurrent of steel. “Jack, who listened to you practice your coming out speech long before you told your Mama?”
Jack’s shoulders dropped. He knew he’d lost. “You,” he answered quietly.
“And whose bedroom window did you climb into after your Dad kicked you out?”
“Yours.”
“And who kicked Danny Buchowski’s ass when he spray painted Fags R Us on your high school locker?”
“You did.”
The set of Sam’s jaw softened, and he whispered, “And who used up all his life savings and got me checked into rehab? And stopped drinking alcohol all together because if I wasn’t going to drink, he wasn’t going to either? Who saved my life, Jack? Tell me, that.”
Jack sniffed quickly before answering. “I’ve told you before, man, you don’t owe me anything.”
“No, man, I owe you fucking everything. I’m just gonna be there to keep you safe.”
“Okay,” Jack nodded once. “But you have to stay at least one section over.”
“Three desks beside you.”
“Eight. And on the opposite side.”
“Christ, Jack, those desks are like cubicles in a voting booth, completely enclosed on three sides. As soon as I’m sitting down, I won’t be able to see anything all the way over there.”
“That’s the point.”
“How about…,” Sam was cut short by an aggravated sigh that didn’t come from either of them.
They both turned around to find Susan the bank teller standing behind them, arms crossed, lips tightened disapprovingly.
“Sorry to break up this little meeting of the Breakfast Club, but aren’t you guys supposed to be making rounds, or, you know, guarding this place?”
Jack and Sam nodded their heads.
“Well then? Get to it!” she ordered, marching back to her kiosk.
“Christ,” said Jack, “she is such a badass.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s so hot.”
“I know, I’d bang her myself if I wasn’t a capital H homo," said Jack. Jack and Sam burst out laughing, chuckling softly as they made their rounds.
<><><><><><><><>
Holy shit, Jack was nervous.
As soon as he got home he took an extra long shower. The water temperature was colder than he liked; an unfortunate necessity because he’d been hard since earlier today. Good thing he was heading to a library because he had an orgasm that was long overdue.
It took him an hour to figure out which pair of jeans (button-down, definitely) and what T-shirt (white, hides certain splatters really well) and how many condoms to put in his pocket (three, oh please please please). He’d convinced his guard dog he wanted to go to the library on his own, pretend Sam wasn’t even around. That way, if Ennis was watching, he wouldn’t get freaked out at the fact that Jack had a chaperone.
Jack saw the study carrels and walked towards them. He looked up at the sign that told him what section he was in. Eastern Philosophy. No wonder this place was deserted. There were two rows of cubicles perpendicular to the window, set up so the front partition on one desk was flush against the front partition of the desk on the opposite row. About six desks side by side made up one row. He approached the first row and looked towards the window. Someone was already sitting there. His heart beat faster.
He took a few steps forward, heading for the second row, and saw Sam was already sitting down at the first desk in the second row; the farthest desk from the window. Sam gave him a grim smile and held up a piece of paper that said, “Your safe word is: Ryan Seacrest.”
Jack rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Fuck you.” Sam immediately turned the paper over and pointed to the words he’d written before Jack even got there: “No, fuck YOU.”
Jack shook his head, feeling himself relax. He was wired and horny, but he felt strangely safe, knowing Sam was around to alert him if anyone came close to this area.
He got to the desk by the window and caught a quick glimpse of the dirty blonde curls of the man sitting opposite him, the rest was hidden from his line of vision. He looked out the window briefly and a tingle went down his spine. Even though he couldn’t be seen from the street, someone looking out from the other wing in the library might be able to see him. The thought of it sent an electric current to his dick.
As soon as he was sitting, he saw there was a brown envelope on the desk. He opened it and read:
Make no sound.
Hands on top of the desk.
Slide down the chair as far as possible.
He inhaled sharply and thanked God he was already sitting. Now if only he could stop his head from spinning.
He slowly shimmied in his chair as far down as possible, until only his back and his tailbone remained on the chair. The position was a bit uncomfortable until he figured out he could grip the top of the desk with his hands to keep him steady. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, trying to keep it as soundless as possible. He heard a rustling sound from directly in front of him, and he wished he had X-ray vision so he could see what was going on. Although, part of the excitement was not seeing, and opening his senses up to whatever came next.
His breathing hitched when he felt a hand on his knee. Just a simple touch, hardly any pressure, but, oh man, even through the denim of his jeans, it was like a branding iron had touched his skin. His knees began to tremble and the hand pressed down a bit harder, moving in slow, soothing circles. The touch succeeded in settling him, and his knees stopped shaking. Thus, he was better prepared for when his other knee received the same treatment.
The hands began to massage down his calves, then back up again boldly until they were on his thighs. He stifled a groan; he wanted the hands to go faster. But he also liked how they were kneading his legs, leaving only the aching muscle between them untouched, urging his thighs to open wider.
His cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans now and his hands were shaking with the effort to keep them on the desk and not stroke himself. He couldn’t stop his hiss of gratitude when suddenly impatient hands unbuttoned his jeans and he was finally, mercifully, free. He thought he heard a gasp below him and he smiled smugly.
Fingers circled his cock firmly, a thumb grazing the tip with a feather light touch. He scooched down even lower in his chair, hoping his cock was merely inches from a waiting mouth. Sweet fuck, he was right.
A tongue smoothed over the head of his cock. One, two, three strokes. And then his aching shaft was being swallowed down a hot, wet and welcoming throat. God yes.
The hands now bracketed his hips, angling him for maximum pleasure. The mouth that sucked him was enthusiastic, the tongue doing wonderfully creative things to his shaft. Although the mouth never left him, he felt one of the hands leave him briefly and he heard the unmistakable click of a flip top being opened and closed. Lube.
He knew it was going to happen, but he still jerked in surprise when a lubed finger entered his hole. Ahhh, fuck. He was having a hard time gripping the desk, his hands now slippery with sweat. A second finger, then a third. Oh Jesus, so full. He didn’t know which way to thrust. Towards the hungry mouth milking him, or backwards to the fingers that filled him. Either way sent explosions to his brain. He tasted blood in his mouth from him biting his tongue to stay quiet.
He was just about ready to shoot when he felt the fingers leave him. He didn’t know whether to cry with disappointment or sigh with relief. His relief was short-lived, however, when he heard the lube cap being opened and shut again. More lube? What next? The answer came quickly when he felt something blunt and thick nudging at his opening, then push slowly into his ass. A dildo, God help me.
He couldn’t stop it -- he grunted. A deep, needy sound that sounded pitiful even to his own ears. Immediately the mouth and the dildo were gone. No, no, no, oh fuck. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, swallowing his moans. I'll be quiet, I want you, please, I need, I need….
The mouth came back and so did the dildo. Harder and hotter and faster than ever. Thank you, oh yes, thank you. The dildo was going deep now, pushing his cock into the back of Ennis’s throat with each thrust. Close, so close, please, oh please, almost, oh fuck, more, more, yes, oh God, yes, yes!
His mouth opened in a soundless scream as he came, thrusting with such force he heard the distinct sound of something hitting the desk with a loud thump. Oh shit. I came in his mouth so hard I either choked him to death or cracked his head open. Way to go, Twist. Nothing says I want to spend the rest of my life with you than giving Prince Charming a concussion.
Thankfully, his ears picked up another sound, a stifled chuckle. He felt hands pulling his pants up, tucking him back in and buttoning him up. He was just about to get his ass back on the chair when he felt a soft kiss land on his clothed dick. It was almost as mind-blowing as his orgasm.
He leaned forward and put his head on the desk, his eyes closed, feeling the afterglow. Plus his lower back needed the relief. He had no idea how long he stayed that way, just enjoying being in his own skin, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
His head came up and instantly he was engulfed in warm arms, his lips taken in a deep kiss that tasted of him. His hands snaked out around Ennis’s waist, pulling Ennis closer as he knelt beside Jack.
“You’re so amazing,” Ennis whispered between soft fluttery kisses. “I was supposed to leave right after. Melt into the shadows after giving you this.”
Ennis put another envelope on the desk. Jack’s hands were busy kneading Ennis’s back; he figured he’d look in the envelope later.
“But,” Ennis continued, “I couldn’t go without telling you…without saying…”
Jack held his breath when he saw what was in Ennis’s eyes. Something soft and tender and infinitely precious.
“You matter to me,” Ennis said, voice clogged with emotion. “Thank you for trusting me.” Ennis leaned forward and gave him another searing kiss before standing up. Jack’s eyes noted the wet spot on Ennis’s jeans and stifled a laugh. Ennis looked down as well, shrugged ruefully, gave Jack a lopsided grin then turned away.
Jack watched Ennis take a few steps forward then stop abruptly. Ennis turned around to face Jack again, both hands in his pockets.
“I hope...,” Ennis said shyly, his eyes going to the envelope on the desk briefly, before looking back at Jack.
Jack didn’t even glance at the envelope. “I’ll be there,” he answered.
“You don’t even…what if you…”
“I’ll be there,” Jack repeated.
Ennis’s smile was like the sun peeking through clouds. Ennis nodded once, pointedly zipping up his jacket to cover up the wet spot on his jeans, ruefully rubbed the top of his head, quirked a brow at Jack, then turned and walked away.
Jack stared after Ennis long after he was gone. He barely registered the shadowy figure of Sam unfolding himself from the desk he’d been sitting at and pulling up a chair right beside Jack.
“How’s a person supposed to study with all that racket going on?” Sam teased.
Jack began to laugh, the happiest he’d been in his whole entire life.
“My safe word is Ryan Seacrest? Are you fucked in the head?”
“Well from the look of you, boy, and the sounds I heard, I think the fucked one is you.”
“Naw,” Jack said smugly. “He used a dildo.” Sam looked like Wile E. Coyote right after an anvil dropped on his head. “Now will you make yourself useful and help me up? I might have some trouble walking out of here. Well, walking, period.”
Sam snorted as he stood and gave Jack a hand up. “You are such a slut, Jack Twist.”
“Not for long, my man. It’s gonna be Jack Twist del Mar by this time next year. Mark my words.”
Jack’s laughter drowned out Sam’s exaggerated groan.
<><><><><>
Jack’s hands were shaking when he tore open the envelope and shook the contents out onto his bed. He looked at the three items that came out of the envelope, trying to decide which one to pick up first. He went for the neatly folded piece of paper, with some kind of Visitor’s Pass stapled on it.
Jack,
Iguana Lounge, tomorrow night, 11:00 pm.
Bring the toys. Better yet, wear them…inside and out.
Ennis
He picked up the cock ring and the butt plug at the same time, swallowed the lump in his throat, and whispered, “I’ll be there.”