(no subject)
It didn't take much to make him happy. Attention comes in many forms and he wasn't too picky on the shape or size or even specifics as long as he received some at all. It was a primal sort of instinct, he supposed; a yearning that was, for better or worse, a deeply ingrained part of his psyche. A bird has its wings, crickets have their nighttime melodies, and Kaz had his insatiable need to be the star of the show no matter what it took. Of course there were exceptions to that which was more or less a rule, and while he always tended to deal with the embarrassment as it came, it had become pretty apparent over the course of an hour that tonight was one of those rare instances where he was not only uncomfortable in his own skin, more than happy enough to find the nearest rock to crawl under, but also one where he was beginning to wish that he was anywhere but here. An interrogation cell was heaven compared to this. So was the Darkness for that matter. Throwing himself to the monsters was starting to look pretty promising.
(Modest restaurant, charming atmosphere. A tiny candlelit lamp at every table, sliver of a flame dancing and casting shadows that made everything seem darker than it really was, more intimate and private. The word here is "romantic." The word he's thinking of is--)
Hell. No other word for it. Funny thing how the concept of hell for so many people was a fire and brimstone pit. That wasn't right at all. Oh no, friends and neighbors, hell wasn't a place with flaming rivers and leering demons; hell was a state of mind, an awkward, horrible, embarrassing, painful state where all that stood between you and your date was a candle, silverware, and your own tension that translated nicely into a burning desire to scream one thing at the top of your lungs.
("Would you stop that?!" He hisses. Has to keep his voice down lest the nearby diners hear and turn around and stare at the peculiar little sight unfolding before them -- two men sitting together, one young and clearly high-strung, the other older and mangy looking and playing with his knife and fork, gripping them in an interchangeable way that would have been perfect for hunting a smaller animal or cutting into the jugular of an unwary waiter. It's bad enough the service was taking so long; he hopes to God they were slaughtering a cow back there, anything else would have been inexcusable, anything else will send him over the edge just like the incessant scraping and click click clicking from the other end of the table.)
But that was no way to act, was it? This wasn't their kitchen. It wasn't even a simple barhopping night out. He'd come very close to losing his cool back there, had been just about ready to get up and storm out of the restaurant, fuck the bill, screw his empty stomach, and the only thing that stopped him was the awareness that if he backed out now he wouldn't be the only one disappointed, crushed. More than just a friendship hinged on this and he knew it and maybe that was why he was feeling so sick when he closed the door behind him as he took his first step into the hotel room. Novelty was the first thing that came to mind. The decorating theme had evidently been an oriental one, and traces of it were present everywhere. Paper lanterns hung overhead, each one a different color; a paneled paper screen stood in the corner of the room across from a tea table, chinaware neatly set out; murals and script were painted delicately along the walls as if by brushstroke. It was tasteful, almost gorgeous, but not decadent.
He was going to be spending the night here. He was going to sleep here with--
(Big Boss glances up, confusion spread across his face, and he asks, "Is something wrong?"
"Why are you doing that? Getting ready to hunt your own dinner?"
He shrugs. "Wouldn't be a first. Besides, they're taking too long. We'd save time and money if we found our own food." A pause and a headtilt, curious glance across the room to the door where waiters and waitresses walk in and out of. "Even you don't take this long. You should ask if they need any help."
Kaz rests his head in his hands, a faint headache gnawing at his temples, and he wonders what would take longer: praying to die or making a subtle getaway by slinking under the table. How was this in any way--)
"Nice," He remarked flatly. "Thought for a moment they'd stick us someplace, ah -- plain. Bland." He scratched his nose, not making direct eye contact with Big Boss. "Though I guess, compared to the other weird rooms in this hotel, this is as boring as it gets."
He managed a smile, but it was small and unsure of itself. Lord knew where they went from here.
As Jack entered the room, he took a good, thorough look at the interior, and recognized a theme. As he'd booked it, he hadn't specified any preferences aside from 'maybe something Asian', and he supposed that was exactly what they'd gotten. Not that it had to be anything special as far as he was concerned - a bland motel room or even a shack would have worked just as well - but given that this was supposed to be special, maybe a special location would add to it. And they weren't on Mother Base anymore, so they could afford a little bit more than the basic necessities.
Mostly, he was doing it for Kaz, even if, for some reason, he hadn't gotten the impression yet that Kaz was very satisfied with this evening. Maybe it was Jack's imagination, or Kaz was just very good at masking his own euphoria. Or maybe he was just very demanding. Whatever it was...
It'd all pay off now. They hadn't talked about what they wanted to do at the end of the evening spent together, but they both knew what felt natural, and why they'd stay here for the night. Only right now, it didn't feel natural at all, because of that knowledge.
He inhaled deeply. "I guess -" He said, and walked to the center of the room. "Though I'm not too picky when it comes to interior design." He glanced to the bed - the only bed - which was kingsize and obviously made for two people. They only had rooms for two people, given what kind of customers the hotel wanted to attract.
...If this was supposed to feel natural, why was he so nervous? All he could think about was sex - bodies and heat and sweat - and how to initiate it. He usually didn't have this problem... but then again, he never exactly planned to have sex; when the time was right and it happened, it was nice, but it was never something he expected, much less something he associated with love. But now he was with a person he knew he loved - and who loved him back, hopefully - and who he, more than anything, wanted to have for himself, both mentally and physically. He wanted this, and he wanted it to feel good and right and like love.
Already an uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Jack began to slip out of his coat and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt in order to have something to do with his hands.
"Why don't you sit down."
He'd take it easy. Kiss him again, touch him, and see what happens. Hopefully not a fight, this time.
There was no need for a fight, but that was not out of consideration for the fragile, intimate atmosphere they were trying to create here or anything so hamfisted. He'd simply lost the drive to initiate anything so much as resembling a confrontation, much less retaliate from one. Fighting would only send things further spiraling down into a complicated and vicious whirlwind, and if he could stop himself from kicking Big Boss in the shins under the table as he continued to play with his silverware in a dreamy absentminded way that was more befitting for a young child rather than a forty year-old, he could keep himself under control now. Patience reserved for a saint. Or maybe I just care too damn much to let this fail.
"And watch you squirm?" He forced himself to roll his eyes, trying to look exasperated and amused at the same time. If he would've chosen to plant his hands on his hips the effect would've cried out, I cook for him, I keep his ass in line, I all but babysit him on missions and he can't even unbutton his shirt? Maybe I should start sewing his clothes for him, too!
It neatly came around full circle to what Ocelot had said before -- how like a wife he was. He had the judgmental part down well enough. Surely Jack had seen the way Kaz was looking at him over dinner, that critical gaze that demanded things of him he either didn't understand or didn't see at all, the tense way he carried himself as he watched the older man forget that he even had a fork when his meal was finally presented to him. To call it embarrassing would have been an understatement, but the more he looked at him now, the more Kaz was finding it very hard to stay angry or even make the connection between the caveman that gorged itself on beef cutlets back at the table and the quiet, almost shy man that was fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
"You'll be stuck on this all night," He remarked, smiling a humorless smile in spite of it all when he crossed the room to lay both his hands on Big Boss', batting them away for the entire minute it took for him to work on unbuttoning the thing.
Well, this wasn't quite what he had expected, either. Jack's cheeks automatically went pink, and he was too stumped to say anything in response; he wouldn't have been surprised if Kaz had just sat down stiffly, however, waiting for the inevitable. Kaz was helping him out of his clothes, but then again, they'd seen each other without clothes often enough, so maybe that didn't mean too much, though it was the first time Kaz helped him out of a formal suit, and not a battlesuit. Which was something else entirely.
Kaz had also been the only one allowed to touch the scar and help him with it if it became necessary, so he didn't feel as uncomfortable having him right in front of his chest as he exposed it. He said nothing, but wondered how many times Kaz had looked at him and maybe touched him with not entirely kosher thoughts in his mind. Jack knew he'd looked at the other man's physique often enough, asking himself questions he didn't really want answers to, so he could keep wondering. Now, though, he didn't know what he'd possibly know in a few hours from now on. Kaz was very open with his relationships (and often enough, he heard about them from third parties), but Jack never really asked because he didn't want to hear about it. He didn't want to hear about things he'd never find out for himself. Maybe it was jealousy, but at least he was damn good and not showing it, not even in those instances where it was called for.
Kaz was almost done with his shirt, and Jack tried to force himself to act, move on to the next logical step - maybe pull him closer and kiss him while he brushed over his chest, but instead he said, in his endless fear to screw this up, "I should go take a shower." - A shower which usually followed once he was out of his clothes. Next logical step, and all that. Only this time, he didn't ask if Kaz wanted to join him.
Bet you never thought we'd get this far, huh? Neither did he. Kaz couldn't stop himself from chuckling, knowing that it's all wrong, that he should be the one scared out of his wits and sitting on the bed like a prisoner on death row. Part of Sunday is still with him, but instead of his own anxiety bearing down and threatening to crush him, it links hands with the realization that he's helping his commander out of his clothes and makes for an exhilarating feeling he's seldom experienced before. His fingers were nimble and though he supposed that although his mind saw a distinction between helping a woman out of her clothes and unbuttoning a man's formal shirt, his hands didn't and they moved carefully and quickly. Bare skin was exposing itself bit by bit and it took genuine self-control for Kaz to hold his curiosity back and force himself not to idly trace the lines of old scars with his fingertips, grazing puckered skin and making it look like an accident.
Jack was not nor had he ever been unpleasant to look at. It was that seldom debated fact (yes, fact -- it wasn't like he was the only one who thought so) that kept Kaz grounded and constantly arguing with himself over a more disputed line of thought: whether or not looking at him in that way had been the result of a dinky little crush or if there was something more to it than that. He wasn't above infatuation, however temporary as most of those cases may have been, but the problem with this was that it wasn't brief. Two years later and he still hadn't forgotten or moved on. Simply enough, they lived together with a sweet, hurtful ache that Kaz had no idea was mutual until now.
But it didn't have to be like that for much longer. Jack's chest had been warm through the fabric of his shirt, and with it gone and discarded on the floor, Kaz discovered that it wasn't just warm to the touch -- it was hot, almost clammy as if the older man was preparing to break out into a cold sweat. He glanced up, curious.
"Uh. Shouldn't that wait until--" He cut himself off, biting his lower lip. Remember, don't rock the boat. He conceded hopelessly, "Nah, you're...I guess you're right. You already smell bad enough." Another chuckle, more nervous than the last, and he took a step back to sit on the bed reluctantly.
"Hurry up. The dessert isn't settling well in my stomach. I'll probably fall asleep if you take too long."
"I don't smell," Jack replied, a little offended though not seriously feeling that way. He was pretty sure he didn't smell, not least because he showered earlier this day, but even so he had no way of telling. Right now, he was just glad he had an excuse to leave Kaz for a while and sort out his thoughts; if everything went well, they could shower together again after they were...done. After this.
He padded over to the bathroom, entering, closing the door behind him (but not locking it, as he never did), and heaving a sigh. Well done, he thought, leaning his forehead against the flat surface of the door, scolding himself mentally for being such a flake. He wanted this more than anything, so why was he so terrified? Why did he feel the need to be alone for a bit and take a long, cold shower? It made no sense, unless perhaps it was performance anxiety. There were so many (unimportant) things he worried about, even as he got out of his shoes and socks and pants, little details and what-ifs. What if Kaz didn't like it. What if he acted too brash or like a total idiot. What if they both realized that it wasn't that nice, that it wasn't going to work out, if the theory was different from the practical act.
What if he decided to just stop here and never find out.
He turned on the water; it wasn't freezing cold, but not really warm, either, as he stepped into the shower cabin. He just needed to get a clear head, cool down a little. Down a little...that's where he looked, too. It was the first time in a long time that he looked at his own body consciously. It wasn't in bad shape by any means; well toned and with defined muscles, all in all something you'd consider attractive, and the scars couldn't change that. Even below the waist, he wasn't too bad off, though that was perhaps the problem - he was a man, and very much of one, too. And Kaz had admitted himself that he'd never - done anything like this before. With a man. The first time, no matter if it was with a man or with a woman, was always weird, but from his own experience, it had never been unpleasant. Skin always felt the same way, bodies were equally warm. The details seldom mattered.
...The details. Yeah, maybe he should stop thinking about them so much. Kaz was probably no less nervous, so at least he wasn't alone in this. Reaching for the shower gel, Jack hoped that a freshly showered man, smelling a little like strawberry, was not entirely appalling.
He waited until he heard the door close before allowing the forced, fake mask of amiability to crumble and the unsureness hidden beneath it to rear its ugly head. Kaz laid himself out on the bed, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the red paper lantern that hung on the ceiling above him, wondering if he had done something wrong. Jack was strange when it came to personal space, and the fact that Kaz was one of the few people who he could stand to be touched by spoke volumes about the nature of the trust between them. He never tensed up around him nor was he reluctant to return the gesture in kind, an elbow in the side or an arm around the shoulders when they were in their best of moods, so the reaction he received before Big Boss ran off to the bathroom was both confusing and dismaying. They were off to a great start already.
At least he isn't locking himself in there. The whisper of the older man's clothes hitting the floor in addition to the sound of running water was relieving; it told Kaz that, for the most part, it was just what Big Boss said it was and not a lie to save face. Not an attempt at stalling. The guy needed a shower, that was all. He just had horrible timing and an inopportune way of announcing it, that's it. What was there to worry about?
Absolutely nothing. If anything, what Kaz should have been feeling right now was envy; a tinge of frustration for coming up short and not being invited to join the other in the shower. The feeling was there, shying away, but he found that forcing it to the surface allowed him to find a new subject to take his mind off the one he was brooding on and it was more productive to think about what Jack was doing as opposed to what they should have been doing together right now. He found himself flushing mildly as he held the image in his mind's eye. He hadn't been lying when he brought up the dessert they'd eaten, some kind of cheesecake with fruit, raspberries and blueberries drizzled with chocolate; how it sat in his stomach and made him feel full and a little sleepy. Licking over his lips, he rolled over on his side and watched the door, propping himself up with his elbow, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.
It took ten minutes for the novelty to wear off and his unease to push itself to the surface again.
"Hey?" He called out, loud enough for Jack to hear him through the door, or so he hoped. "You still alive in there?"
No answer. Of course. This was taking forever and Kaz wasn't very good with dealing with impatience. He got up, quietly shuffling to the door with his head lowered, considering if he should just use taking a piss as an excuse and wondering if Big Boss was dense enough to buy it. You could never quite tell with him; at times, it was like he was selectively stupid.
Still, it was as good a crutch as any and the only thing he could think of. Exhaling deeply with his hand on the doorknob, Kaz turned it and pushed the door open with, as he would realize soon enough, more force than necessary.
Nope, he did not hear Kaz calling out to him over the constant stream of water, or maybe he just didn't realize how long he really was inside the shower. He never showered for very long - he had a standard of hygiene, but he didn't remain in there for longer than was necessary. When he was clean and felt refreshed enough, it was time to leave, but this time, he spent much more time in there, scrubbing himself clean and just - well, enjoying the water.
...Or rather, stalling for time. Of course he knew he couldn't be in here the whole night nor did he want to, especially since this whole thing had originally been HIS idea, he had initiated it, so he had pretty much no right to leave Kaz hanging like that, in every sense of the word. Provided the guy was even looking forward to any of this. Jack knew he had a slight stomachache already, and not from the dinner - it's been years since he'd last felt that way about someone. Back then, when he'd been young and naive and shy and he supposed he still was, to a degree, only that he was 40 now and not 20 and totally inexperienced anymore.
When he finished up, he seriously considered for a moment to put his clothes back on, but then reminded himself that ideally, he shouldn't need any at all; so he just grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around his waist once he was done toweling himself (still wet, though).
Unfortunately though, just as he was about to exit, Kaz had a similar, just slightly inversed idea. Apparently, knocking before entering was really too much to ask (his own fault for not locking the door, he supposed), and so he got a doorful right in his face, hard enough to send him reeling while swearing.
In hindsight, he really should have knocked. Why it slipped his mind now of all possible times eluded him; frazzled nerves, perhaps, and impatience that gripped him and left no room for common sense. The door didn't open all the way because something was in the way, something big and heavy, and he would have pushed harder if he hadn't heard at precisely that second a thunderous crack. Wood against rock -- no, not rock, but something just as hard and not stupid enough to stay silent as it stumbled back on a wet linoleum floor.
"Shit!" The word slipped instinctively, the most (and only) natural thing Kaz could say when the realization that he'd beaned Big Boss in the head with the door sank in. The second instinct to push his way in and reach out to grab the other man by the arm before he slipped on the floor came next, but it had felt instantaneous. His already tense nerves were pulled taut like sensitive thread and his mind whirlwinded into panic and he didn't bother to set it straight.
I didn't -- I thought --
"Are you okay?" Managing to still his free hand, Kaz tucked it under Jack's chin and tilted it upwards, checking for bruises and the telltale signs of a broken nose. Granted, there was only so much damage getting hit with a door could do, but...
"I was just gonna --" --use the bathroom, see if you were trying to bail, say something, damnit-- "I had to use the -- ugh! Goddamnit!"
There was blood at his temples. Not a whole lot but enough to start trickling. Without thinking, Kaz grabbed one of the clean washcloths that hung on the rack next to the door and pressed it against the laceration.
Ouch. That hurt - pretty bad, actually, though he's lived through worse. Fortunately, Kaz didn't even get his nose, only his temple, and even though it was bleeding, it was nothing serious. He was more concerned about the towel slipping, so he tugged it back up, hissing. Kaz had caused him worse injuries than a minor laceration on his temple, and even though the man was very...caring right now, for some reason (honestly, that one time when he'd been shot in the shoulder Kaz had had the time to comment on the nurse's new outfit before asking him how he was doing), but it just made him want to bail even more.
He shook his head, "It's fine," he reassured, then, finding his balance, took the washcloth out of Kaz's hand and walked back into the bedroom, clad only in aforementioned towel and still dripping wet.
...What a nice date this was. He sat down on the bed, and began to brood, pressing the cloth firmly against his temple. Actually he wanted to be angry and yell and ask Kaz what the hell he was thinking, can't you even knock, it's rude to just enter the bathroom, but he wasn't in the mood for any of that. The whole right side of his face was aching, throbbing with pain (and he probably looked funny, too), and all he wanted to do right now was rest. Alternatively, do something. Anything.
So difficult.
No, it wasn't. It really wasn't. Kaz shook his head stubbornly, following him. "I should've knocked. You were taking your time, so I...I just thought you were still showering. You wouldn't have noticed."
Hesitantly as if gauging how wanted he was right now, he sat next to Big Boss on the edge of the bed. Yeah, it could have been worse; he could have hit him harder, leaving something worse than a simple cut and bruise. There could have been a crunch instead of a crack and Big Boss could have been pressing that white--now dull pink--cloth against his nose in a vain attempt to staunch a torrent of blood. Worse yet, Kaz could have pushed the door hard enough to knock Jack on his ass, in which case he was sure to receive a reaction far more bitter and resentful than the quietly fuming one he was getting now. He was lucky now that the other was still speaking to him.
"I'm sorry," He said finally, quietly, and he meant it. So much for a nice, private night between them. If one of them didn't have cold feet, the other did and of course it had to lead to violence. Every damn time. If sentimentality couldn't be counted on, blood certainly could. "Positive this isn't how you expected tonight to end, huh?"
There was a grim finality laced in those words, his way of saying how he expected the rest of the night to proceed. An early end to the party if there ever was one, but it wasn't like they were doing much celebrating to begin with. Warily as if expecting to be swatted away, he gently pushed against Jack's chest to get him to lay down, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the towel was slipping again. He tried not to look down as his hand drifted there to pull the wet cloth back up, trying to make himself look nonplussed and not disappointed at all.
Or embarrassed for that matter when his palm brushed against the stiff, distinct bulge outlined through the fabric. He added quickly, "You should probably rest."
That didn't go unnoticed. He blinked, confused. When Kaz's hand drifted off (down there) he automatically held his breath, half-expecting him to tug the towel down instead of up. He wasn't that lucky, though, because that would have made things a lot easier - easier to ignore those comments, too, about the night ending and him having to rest.
This was all wrong...and there was only one way to make it right.
Screw it. If he was laying down on the bed already, he might as well -
"Keep it there," he said quickly, making a grab for Kaz's wrist before he could remove his hand completely, shoving it back down into his lap, to that bulge he had just brushed over, and somehow managed to get his hand to cup it. He felt stupid, of course, because this was a pretty clumsy attempt at initiating something...sexual, but right now, he supposed it was better than nothing, though that didn't change the fact that he went beet-red; at least he could mask that with the flushed cheeks he already had from showering for so long as he forced himself to look into Kaz's eyes.
And reach up with his other hand, touching his cheek, his neck, arching his own hips and rocking into his hand ever so subtly, with only a towel inbetween.
"Ah." All he could bring himself to say. Ah -- an understanding, matter-of-fact grunt of a noise that he still managed to ruin just by looking like someone had slapped him across the face. His cheeks were tinged with red and his eyes widened marginally. Are you sure? is what he should have said, and he drew in a deep breath as if he were about to say just that, to question the figurative gift that had been dropped right in his lap like that, but nothing came out save for another more shaky "ah", this time when rough, calloused fingers brushed against the contours of his face.
Jack may have felt stupid right now, but Kaz could attest to feeling ten times more ridiculous as his hand tightened gradually over the bulge. He didn't even know what to do (and how could he not, really? it wasn't like he didn't know what to do with his own cock) and when the older man began rolling his hips in that subtle but very pronounced way that forced him to go with it, he was just about ready to suck in another mouthful of air just to keep himself steady. Relaxed.
He wants it, He thought, eyes never wandering from Big Boss' lone and now artificial blue one. The side of his head's bleeding and he's probably still pissed, but not enough to stop him from wanting this.
The disheartening weight on his chest dissipated, and he felt enough nerve to keep at it, fondling Jack's still flaccid member through the towel as he climbed onto the bed fully, knitting a brow in concentration. It might have felt good, but not great. He wanted to take it a step further.
His free hand placed itself over the one Big Boss had over his face, holding it there, while his active one sneakily slipped between the towel and down beneath where it grasped--albeit clumsily--for the older man's penis.
He was close to moaning right there, but stifled the sound by pressing his lips together and biting down on his tongue - albeit not painfully so. He wanted to say something, though he didn't know what; and he was afraid that the moment he opened his mouth, there'd be - sounds escaping him, embarrassing him further. He was lucky enough that Kaz chose not to comment on it and just went along with it, to hell with it all.
Really lucky, considering the mans initial reluctance due to inexperience (or so he hoped). Then again, there wasn't much to know about gay sex - if you like it being done to you, your partner probably likes it, too. He liked Kaz's fingers curled around his hardening cock, even if the grip wasn't as firm, but it always feels weird the first time you touch a dick that isn't your own. Jack didn't fault him for that; they could work from here.
Given that Kaz didn't need anymore guidance or prompting, Jack had one hand free, and decided that the best place for it to be was right underneath Kaz's shirt. Jack was as good as naked already, but his partner was still too clothed for his taste, and he didn't want to be the only one who got something out of this and enjoyed himself. With his fingers touching his skin, he traced the lines of his abs, up to his pecs; just feeling the skin below his palm in a way he had never felt it before. It was something else. Something he could get used to.
"You should kiss me, you know," he somehow had enough nerve to tease him, despite his position.
Even if he had heard a moan slip from Big Boss, what position was he in to make fun of him? Kaz's breath hitched at the dick hardening beneath his fingers, palming and roaming along the shaft. His intent was to approach the matter as one might approach an experiment -- carefully and always with the awareness that he was being judged every step of the way, or so he thought. It was hard to keep Jack's confidence down entirely because, whether Kaz liked it or not, the other had bounced back to his usual cheekiness that seemed to best present itself in intimate situations like this. He'd seen it on Sunday when they were on the roof; how, despite the embarrassment, the hangups, the general awkward rift between them, Big Boss could still find something to poke fun at. Maybe it was his strange way of lightening the mood. His way of saying don't worry in as many words as possible.
Good advice. The cords in Kaz's neck stretched and his head tilted and his once steady, shallow breath was now uneven with his own barely suppressed arousal and all he could think of was of the hand exploring his chest. That was Big Boss' hand, and in his own he had his cock. Even if I'm not like that I'm touching him and, wouldn't you know it, we're going to do it. Here. Right now.
Always a pleasant fantasy, that, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it the worst of times and even if it had always left him with that same ache afterwards. He eyed the other curiously, a lopsided little grin gnawing at his mouth.
"Only if you help me get these off." He lowered his body down onto Jack's after a moment of pause, letting go of the older man's hand to relocate it to his head, running it through his still damp hair. He wished he had something more sarcastic to say, something that would have hit hard, but only his lips would suffice now. Kaz licked over Big Boss', testing himself and deciding that he liked their coarseness, how pliant they were, and then kissed him in earnest seconds later.
Mmmmh. That was the only thought he had, and also the only sound he made, humming against and into Kaz's mouth, having no time to wonder about the lack of a snarky response. Instead, he gave a complying one; moving his hand and kissing him deeply.
Maybe this was getting somewhere after all. They had kissed before, although always reluctantly and unsure of what to do exactly with that hardness that was building between his legs, trying to force it back, but this time, he didn't have to. On the contrary, he wanted to get completely hard as soon as possible, if only to let Kaz know how much he really enjoyed this, how - content he felt. Content and all right with this.
...And drawn to the other man, of course. And from there on, it all happened naturally; he didn't have to force an erection, or his tongue to move against his, or his hand to wander back down Kaz's chest and stomach to his belt and fly. He couldn't see them nor did he need to; working both open wasn't difficult, though he did it deliberately slowly, and, once he was done, slipped his hand inside and groping his way. He liked what he found, enough to make him grin against another pair of lips, sucking on them.
He didn't keep his hand in Kaz's pants for long, though; that was just a teaser. Instead, he pushed him away subtly with both hands so he could help him get out of his shirt by grabbing its seam and pull if over his head.
And not one second after it was off, his hands were back on his body, pulling it down again.
Tease. Kaz was unable to help himself from shivering, the subconscious desire to thrust his hips into the hand that groped its way into his pants. He was running purely on instinct now, doing what felt was best. Being fondled was only half of it. He wanted to be drawn close, held steady by two firm arms before he lost his nerve to act again. Not like it seemed as though it was going to happen any time soon, though; if the hand wandering up and down his budding erection was anything but pleasant, he would have torn himself away from Big Boss in a flash. Instead he sighed near silently, barely holding himself back from groaning, first out of pleasure and next out of restrained disappointment when Big Boss pushed him back and forced them to separate for an instant.
The shirt fell to crumpled heap on the floor. He was about ready to start pulling his pants off before Jack pulled him back down again, rather abruptly, and he let out a surprised little mh! when their lips connected again. His taste was, Kaz decided, a mixture of tobacco from the cigar he'd smoked an hour again and the sweet aftertaste of the recent cake they had eaten, a somewhat bitter, cloying combination that stuck with Kaz as he continued to suck on Jack's lips and tongue. It wasn't disgusting enough to warrant separation; not at all. He continued to kiss him, moving down from Big Boss' mouth to his chin and then his neck, sucking on skin with a firmness he felt confident the other man would enjoy. Couldn't be too soft, after all. Where was the fun in that?
"'s funny," He husked, pausing right above Jack's left nipple. His hand was getting very slick, sticky with a substance he was well-familiar with and it made him a little dazed that he was even feeling it. "For a while there, I thought you were gonna call the whole thing off."
Not funny at all, if only for the reaction Big Boss would have gotten if he dared to pull such a stunt after the nightmare that was dinner. Kaz shifted again, taking a deep breath and finally deciding it was time to get rid of that towel.
Jack didn't object. At this point, he barely cared about the towel hanging loosely around his hips anymore; what he cared about was the man on top of him, kissing and biting and sucking on his skin. He did it in a way that made Jack wonder if this was really his first time with a man, but then again, he supposed that women were equally sensitive to these little touches.
"You've never seen me running away from a challenge before, have you?" He said, running a hand through blond hair and smoothing it back, and added, giving a short, hoarse laugh and thrusting into his hand, "I just wanted to smell nice for you. Sorry about that."
He gave a content hum, and closed his eye for a minute or two, just taking all of this in - his hand, his teasing voice, the atmosphere. Not even a month ago he would have never thought anything like this would ever happen between the two of them; christ, even ten minutes ago he hadn't thought this would still happen. But it was happening, and it was good - not least because for the first time in a long time, he was able to relax and enjoy it for what it was. Maybe a little more, given there was love involved; he trusted his partner implicitely, even if he knew that that perhaps wasn't very recommendable.
Still, that was one can of worms he didn't want to think about right now. He wanted to think about the hand running up and down his cock and warming him, the whole night -
Yeah, but that wasn't very nice of him. He had to give something back, not that he didn't want to, but it's been ages since anyone had been taking such good care of him. Not that there wasn't still room for improvement, but he wasn't picky.
With a heavy, drawn-out sigh though, Jack pushed against Kaz' chest until he was upright on his knees, then sat up himself, and yanked the only pair of pants down that was still left, helping him out of them hastily and tossing them somewhere next to the bed - he didn't look, his gaze was trained on the man, looking up into his face while his hands were exploring his hips and stomach and thighs, then finally settled on his now exposed erection, grasping it firmly for the first time and giving it a few hard strokes until it was all slick and wet.
He didn't comment on that, though there was a distant sense of pride that he felt; having this hardness in his palm.
He leaned forward and kissed down the shaft without any signs of hesitation; after his lips, his tongue soon followed, and he remembered how a man tasted. It wasn't disgusting, just something he'd pushed to the back of his mind for a long time and, gripping the base of his cock with one hand and steadying the man's hip with his other, he finally moved to its head and parted his lips, taking it into his mouth - just an inch or two for now, sucking lightly.
"You smell like a giant strawberry," He spoke breathlessly, choking down another laugh. "That's your idea of nice?"
He didn't even know why he said it like that; it just came out, another string of husky words that slipped off his tongue before he could do anything to stop himself or add that he very much liked how Jack smelled. Even though he preferred more muskier scents--sweat, wet, clammy skin after a day's worth of swimming in the ocean or exercising on a rain-soaked beach--the one that clung to the other's damp body wasn't bad at all. Kaz inhaled, taking it in, pushing his tongue against the nipple he was about to suck on. So far, so good. Men weren't so different from women at all; they were receptive to pleasure in more or less the same places at the very least, and the reactions he was getting from Big Boss were exceptionally pleasing. It was like taking a shot in the dark and realizing that you had not only hit your target on the first try, but had also somehow come across a payload of precious treasure by literally walking into it. Not bad for a first timer.
A warm glow settled upon him, neither pride nor relief. Comfort, pure and simple and poignant, and affection that had gone unchecked for too long. Kaz realized faintly that he could be sucking on this spot for a while and still be content, and it was a little amusing if only for how damn stupid they must have looked -- a pair of grown men carrying on like two virgins. It would have been hysterically funny if it wasn't so sad.
So naturally, it came as a surprise when he was pushed off and he immediately opened his mouth to protest. "H-hey, I wasn't--" --finished. The word died on his lips with the first hard stroke that sent another shiver up his spine. This time Kaz didn't bother holding back a groan, considering it a small mercy that the noise came out throaty and muffled, and for one brief moment he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Couldn't even begin to describe how it felt.
"Oh..." Warm, wet heat. The very same lips he had been kissing up until a minute ago. Both of his now empty hands went to Big Boss' head immediately, twining through hair and rubbing against scalp, clumsy. Though he wasn't selfish enough to ignore his partner's own needs in a time like this, he was starting to become even more conscious of his own and how good it would feel if Jack could take him in further. Just a little more.
Don't be greedy. Don't be stingy. This was more than enough. Affectionately, he stroked the older man's hair and urged him forward.
A satisfied sound coming from Kaz if he's ever heard one. Smiling inwardly, he drew back for a brief moment, licking over his lips while watching the other man's facial expression closely. He himself was embarrassed, yes - this wasn't something he did regularly, and it was reserved for people he truly cared about - but he wasn't gonna let that stop him anymore. The first time is always awkward, but you could get used to it. His hand moved again; and foreskin slid over the head, and back, and forth.
After the tenth or so stroke he leaned forward again, lips touching his exposed glans briefly; before wrapping themselves around it and sliding over the shaft effortlessly until he'd taken as much of him in as he was able to without attempting to deepthroat him. That was something he'd try later, when it didn't matter if he screwed up and ended up gagging.
Once his cock hit the back of Jack's throat, he moved his head back, running his tongue along the bottom of the hard flesh, then repeated the whole procedure a couple of times - sucking his cock, blowing him in the most ordinary, vulgar way, until so much saliva collected in his mouth that it trickled down his chin.
With any other person, he would have felt filthy and humiliated. Right now, he didn't mind it at all, and was able to concentrate on the task at hand, though his own neglected arousal was twitching between his legs, and his other hand wandered down between them in order to fondle it a little. From there on, he let Kaz's hands on his head set a pace, and moved according to his ministrations.
For most of the time, he kept his eye closed, but once in a while he opened it and looked up as much as he could without interrupting himself; wanting to see the other man's expression, his eyes, if at all possible.
His toes curled and clenched and he was breathing shallowly, erratically as he strained to keep himself from thrusting. Making this easy for Jack was a priority no matter how much of himself he was losing in the process, nudged out of him like the older man was undoubtedly doing with his inevitable climax, but it was a priority nonetheless that he kept at the front of his mind, refusing to let it be swept back by each wave of arousal that swept over him. In addition to being good with his hands, the older man was amazing with his mouth, too. It spoke volumes about him, more than Kaz would have ever known or cared to ask about, and idly he wondered how many times Big Boss had done this before in the past; how many men he'd taken into his mouth, how many had gotten off to the image of the older one's bobbing head buried between their thighs, if was the only one. He would have liked to believe he was the first even if that was probably an arrogant wish on his part, but it was still a nice one and that was all that mattered. He found himself needing very little else right now.
"Oh. Oh, Boss..." A tiny, weak chuckle. His face was hot and flushed, but that was okay, Jack wasn't any better off. At least Kaz wasn't drooling yet. "Anyone ever tell you you're really -- really good at this?"
Stupid question. Damn, at this rate it wouldn't take very long at all for him to come...
That's not the only thing I'm good at.
That's what he wanted to say. Something along those lines, anyway, or perhaps Did you really expect anything less? Though that would make him sound arrogant, so it was probably a good thing that his mouth was too full to speak. He just glanced up to him, an unreadable expression in his single, fake eye.
When Kaz could barely hold back the thrusting, Jack decided that it was enough for now or else it might be over to soon. There were so many other things they could do; they weren't restricted to only hands and mouths and what he had in mind was actually the one act he'd been looking forward to since he realized that Kaz was willing to engage in this sort of relationship with him. He removed his cock from his mouth, giving it a last lick before wiping the saliva from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, then placed both hands on each side of Kaz's hips to push him back. And down, onto the mattress, without any heads-up.
Jack immediately crawled on top of him, but didn't bother to hold him down. He didn't think that after that, there'd be much of a resistance; and so he moved to kiss him, unconcerned about the precome he no doubt still had in his mouth and which Kaz would get to taste now.
He moved close enough so that their erections could touch and rub against each other, and he grasped them both with one hand as far as he was able; grinding his hips subtly into his crotch.
And then his hand, still conveniently wet from wiping over his mouth, sneaked down past his scrotum between his buttocks.
All he needed was that hand on his face again for this to be perfect. Holding it would have been just as good, taking it into his own and linking fingers until the joints began to hurt from being bared down on. The man's breath tickling his arousal and the tight heat that threatened to consume it entirely was nice too, but above all, he wanted to feel Big Boss in every conceivable way. Shame I only have two hands and he only has one mouth. Heh...
He was losing it, wasn't he? In retrospect, this should have been the part where, upon being shoved onto his back, he would have protested the loss of Jack's mouth around his cock more vocally aside from making an irate, disappointed nngh but it changed the moment he felt nails dig into his hips as hands held him down firmly and a wet, somewhat sticky tongue prodded against his lips and entered with little to no resistance. Never got tired of that, even though each of their kisses were growing progressively more animalistic. Kaz only realized what the bitter substance coating Jack's tongue and lips was when they hastily broke for air for a few seconds, noting the stringy webbing it created between their saliva drenched lips, a thread that connected them that was broken the moment he smashed his mouth together with Jack's again, and he wasn't as disgusted with it as one might think. The surreality of it all was too great, and the fact that he was sucking on his own precum only added to it.
At the hips grinding into him, he returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm and was just about to start raking his nails over Jack's back before he felt something that made him tense up everywhere. It probably didn't do him any good--only made the penetration more painful like something stiff had wormed its way inside him, too small to cause significant damage but big enough to hurt and scratch--and his breath was caught in his throat and the only thing he could bring himself to utter was an a-ah, taken aback. His face burned and before he knew it, he was pushing Big Boss back by the shoulders.
"You should, uh -- aim a little higher." A nervous and decidedly forced laugh followed. Kaz lowered one hand and tried to gingerly direct the wet one down there up to his crotch. "And what's the rush? Why don't you slow down?"
You didn't even ask. That bothered him the most, he decided. He tried edging back on the mattress, trying to get some breathing room between them and only succeeding in hitting the pillows behind him in the process.
Well, now it showed that someone was still a virgin in some areas. Or just shy. But he wouldn't let Kaz distract him; Jack knew what he wanted and even though this was getting dangerous in terms of consent, he was sure he'd have more convincing arguments. Within seconds, his hand was back down where it had been before, not quite fully pushing in yet, but prodding and teasing.
"I'm not rushing anything. I'm taking my time. To make it easier for you, of course." Saying that, his single finger pushed in an inch or so; still harmless compared to what he was sure would follow later. At the same time, he made himself heavier on top of the man, holding him down with his weight alone, smiling mischievously. "This is a part of it, too. It'll be good, just relax." He gave him a full kiss on the lips, reassuringly, or so he hoped, because nothing would be dumber than having to stop here because Kaz was too afraid to have anything shoved up his butt.
(Not that Jack ever considered to be on the receiving end himself; not voluntarily so.)
With his other hand, he took hold of the man's erection again, grasping it firmly and stroking him; setting a pace that went along with the subtle movements of his finger - in, forward, out, back; so every little thrust was accompanied by a pleasurable stroke.
As much as Big Boss likely thought this was helping--his way of preparing the younger man and giving him a taste of what was to come--each little penetration and the scrapes the followed when he dragged his finger back out, then in, then out again was just that -- a tease. His stomach was rising and falling an an erratic rhythm, his lungs trying to compensate for the air lost with every rough stroke from the other's hand that took his breath right out of him in ragged little spurts. Jack's weight didn't help either; the man was built well and was, believe it or not, heavier than he was. Having him laying atop his own body as if it were a pillow made Kaz feel engulfed, held tight and trapped, and it was hard not to squirm.
"I didn't know that -- that part of it also said you'd be the one on top." It was choked out, and while the words themselves weren't spoken sarcastically, the context behind them stood strong. Truth be told, he was a little -- okay, a lot nervous. No one could blame him for being so, not when he could barely keep from quivering now when Jack's finger wasn't even entering him that roughly, but even that wasn't an issue so much as the fact that he was expected to be on the receiving end. Jack didn't even ask; he took. Bossy -- he really does live up to his name...
Kaz hunched his shoulders, taking in a deep breath and groaning softly under the strain of it all, mumbling incoherently around Big Boss' lips. He tilted his head to the side and grazed his teeth along the contours of the other's shoulder before sinking them into the soft flesh, biting down.
If this was how it was going to be, fine. No one said that he couldn't be just as rough and there was no better way to prove it than by making a point right here -- he wouldn't go down quietly without a fight. Jack would have to try harder if he wanted him to submit.
He exhaled air through clenched teeth; a sharp hiss when Kaz bit him in the shoulder, "The hell was that for?"
He had a mind to punch the man square in the balls for that, an action he absolutely didn't deserve, in his eyes - of course Kaz was a little prissy when it came to submitting on his own, but you'd expect that he'd make an exception for someone he'd been friends with for two years. "Don't be a pansy," he grumbled, trying to wedge him off his shoulder and push him back into the sheets.
Naturally he could already predict Kaz's reasoning once he used his mouth to speak again - Why don't you do it, if you aren't a pansy? Likely not expecting that either of them would be willing to do it.
He hadn't though this would be so difficult, and it wasn't like he wanted to force him if he was serious about not wanting to bottom to him. Jack, too, wasn't fond of the thought of himself being in that position, not because it might hurt or be uncomfortable, no - it had something to do about being vulnerable and dependent on someone else. He didn't want to depend on someone else, and he didn't want to be taken advantage of, either through someone using him for their own pleasure or by teasing him and denying him his.
Kaz was the same. So, he supposed, it had a lot to do with trust, and if it helped them to deepen their relationship, then he'd get over himself and do the first step. But not without being grumpy about it, though; still -
"Fine. You're too chickenshit to get your ass pounded? I'm not, so don't get too comfortable."
- there was a sense of superiority in submitting, to let Kaz know not only that he was a coward (and lacked the necessary trust), but that Jack wasn't really worried at all; that it was easy for him to say, 'okay, you do the work'.
He sat up, moved the the other end of the bed and looked through the nightstand, then leaned against the headboard; half-leaning half-laying down after he'd found what he was looking for.
He'd never done this before, but that didn't mean he had to let Kaz know that when he spread his legs and started to prepare himself. Rubbing more salt into the wound he'd just inflicted on Kaz, he was sure; even more so when tossing the tube at him with the words and you better lube the hell out of that, too.
(Modest restaurant, charming atmosphere. A tiny candlelit lamp at every table, sliver of a flame dancing and casting shadows that made everything seem darker than it really was, more intimate and private. The word here is "romantic." The word he's thinking of is--)
Hell. No other word for it. Funny thing how the concept of hell for so many people was a fire and brimstone pit. That wasn't right at all. Oh no, friends and neighbors, hell wasn't a place with flaming rivers and leering demons; hell was a state of mind, an awkward, horrible, embarrassing, painful state where all that stood between you and your date was a candle, silverware, and your own tension that translated nicely into a burning desire to scream one thing at the top of your lungs.
("Would you stop that?!" He hisses. Has to keep his voice down lest the nearby diners hear and turn around and stare at the peculiar little sight unfolding before them -- two men sitting together, one young and clearly high-strung, the other older and mangy looking and playing with his knife and fork, gripping them in an interchangeable way that would have been perfect for hunting a smaller animal or cutting into the jugular of an unwary waiter. It's bad enough the service was taking so long; he hopes to God they were slaughtering a cow back there, anything else would have been inexcusable, anything else will send him over the edge just like the incessant scraping and click click clicking from the other end of the table.)
But that was no way to act, was it? This wasn't their kitchen. It wasn't even a simple barhopping night out. He'd come very close to losing his cool back there, had been just about ready to get up and storm out of the restaurant, fuck the bill, screw his empty stomach, and the only thing that stopped him was the awareness that if he backed out now he wouldn't be the only one disappointed, crushed. More than just a friendship hinged on this and he knew it and maybe that was why he was feeling so sick when he closed the door behind him as he took his first step into the hotel room. Novelty was the first thing that came to mind. The decorating theme had evidently been an oriental one, and traces of it were present everywhere. Paper lanterns hung overhead, each one a different color; a paneled paper screen stood in the corner of the room across from a tea table, chinaware neatly set out; murals and script were painted delicately along the walls as if by brushstroke. It was tasteful, almost gorgeous, but not decadent.
He was going to be spending the night here. He was going to sleep here with--
(Big Boss glances up, confusion spread across his face, and he asks, "Is something wrong?"
"Why are you doing that? Getting ready to hunt your own dinner?"
He shrugs. "Wouldn't be a first. Besides, they're taking too long. We'd save time and money if we found our own food." A pause and a headtilt, curious glance across the room to the door where waiters and waitresses walk in and out of. "Even you don't take this long. You should ask if they need any help."
Kaz rests his head in his hands, a faint headache gnawing at his temples, and he wonders what would take longer: praying to die or making a subtle getaway by slinking under the table. How was this in any way--)
"Nice," He remarked flatly. "Thought for a moment they'd stick us someplace, ah -- plain. Bland." He scratched his nose, not making direct eye contact with Big Boss. "Though I guess, compared to the other weird rooms in this hotel, this is as boring as it gets."
He managed a smile, but it was small and unsure of itself. Lord knew where they went from here.
As Jack entered the room, he took a good, thorough look at the interior, and recognized a theme. As he'd booked it, he hadn't specified any preferences aside from 'maybe something Asian', and he supposed that was exactly what they'd gotten. Not that it had to be anything special as far as he was concerned - a bland motel room or even a shack would have worked just as well - but given that this was supposed to be special, maybe a special location would add to it. And they weren't on Mother Base anymore, so they could afford a little bit more than the basic necessities.
Mostly, he was doing it for Kaz, even if, for some reason, he hadn't gotten the impression yet that Kaz was very satisfied with this evening. Maybe it was Jack's imagination, or Kaz was just very good at masking his own euphoria. Or maybe he was just very demanding. Whatever it was...
It'd all pay off now. They hadn't talked about what they wanted to do at the end of the evening spent together, but they both knew what felt natural, and why they'd stay here for the night. Only right now, it didn't feel natural at all, because of that knowledge.
He inhaled deeply. "I guess -" He said, and walked to the center of the room. "Though I'm not too picky when it comes to interior design." He glanced to the bed - the only bed - which was kingsize and obviously made for two people. They only had rooms for two people, given what kind of customers the hotel wanted to attract.
...If this was supposed to feel natural, why was he so nervous? All he could think about was sex - bodies and heat and sweat - and how to initiate it. He usually didn't have this problem... but then again, he never exactly planned to have sex; when the time was right and it happened, it was nice, but it was never something he expected, much less something he associated with love. But now he was with a person he knew he loved - and who loved him back, hopefully - and who he, more than anything, wanted to have for himself, both mentally and physically. He wanted this, and he wanted it to feel good and right and like love.
Already an uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Jack began to slip out of his coat and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt in order to have something to do with his hands.
"Why don't you sit down."
He'd take it easy. Kiss him again, touch him, and see what happens. Hopefully not a fight, this time.
There was no need for a fight, but that was not out of consideration for the fragile, intimate atmosphere they were trying to create here or anything so hamfisted. He'd simply lost the drive to initiate anything so much as resembling a confrontation, much less retaliate from one. Fighting would only send things further spiraling down into a complicated and vicious whirlwind, and if he could stop himself from kicking Big Boss in the shins under the table as he continued to play with his silverware in a dreamy absentminded way that was more befitting for a young child rather than a forty year-old, he could keep himself under control now. Patience reserved for a saint. Or maybe I just care too damn much to let this fail.
"And watch you squirm?" He forced himself to roll his eyes, trying to look exasperated and amused at the same time. If he would've chosen to plant his hands on his hips the effect would've cried out, I cook for him, I keep his ass in line, I all but babysit him on missions and he can't even unbutton his shirt? Maybe I should start sewing his clothes for him, too!
It neatly came around full circle to what Ocelot had said before -- how like a wife he was. He had the judgmental part down well enough. Surely Jack had seen the way Kaz was looking at him over dinner, that critical gaze that demanded things of him he either didn't understand or didn't see at all, the tense way he carried himself as he watched the older man forget that he even had a fork when his meal was finally presented to him. To call it embarrassing would have been an understatement, but the more he looked at him now, the more Kaz was finding it very hard to stay angry or even make the connection between the caveman that gorged itself on beef cutlets back at the table and the quiet, almost shy man that was fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
"You'll be stuck on this all night," He remarked, smiling a humorless smile in spite of it all when he crossed the room to lay both his hands on Big Boss', batting them away for the entire minute it took for him to work on unbuttoning the thing.
Well, this wasn't quite what he had expected, either. Jack's cheeks automatically went pink, and he was too stumped to say anything in response; he wouldn't have been surprised if Kaz had just sat down stiffly, however, waiting for the inevitable. Kaz was helping him out of his clothes, but then again, they'd seen each other without clothes often enough, so maybe that didn't mean too much, though it was the first time Kaz helped him out of a formal suit, and not a battlesuit. Which was something else entirely.
Kaz had also been the only one allowed to touch the scar and help him with it if it became necessary, so he didn't feel as uncomfortable having him right in front of his chest as he exposed it. He said nothing, but wondered how many times Kaz had looked at him and maybe touched him with not entirely kosher thoughts in his mind. Jack knew he'd looked at the other man's physique often enough, asking himself questions he didn't really want answers to, so he could keep wondering. Now, though, he didn't know what he'd possibly know in a few hours from now on. Kaz was very open with his relationships (and often enough, he heard about them from third parties), but Jack never really asked because he didn't want to hear about it. He didn't want to hear about things he'd never find out for himself. Maybe it was jealousy, but at least he was damn good and not showing it, not even in those instances where it was called for.
Kaz was almost done with his shirt, and Jack tried to force himself to act, move on to the next logical step - maybe pull him closer and kiss him while he brushed over his chest, but instead he said, in his endless fear to screw this up, "I should go take a shower." - A shower which usually followed once he was out of his clothes. Next logical step, and all that. Only this time, he didn't ask if Kaz wanted to join him.
Bet you never thought we'd get this far, huh? Neither did he. Kaz couldn't stop himself from chuckling, knowing that it's all wrong, that he should be the one scared out of his wits and sitting on the bed like a prisoner on death row. Part of Sunday is still with him, but instead of his own anxiety bearing down and threatening to crush him, it links hands with the realization that he's helping his commander out of his clothes and makes for an exhilarating feeling he's seldom experienced before. His fingers were nimble and though he supposed that although his mind saw a distinction between helping a woman out of her clothes and unbuttoning a man's formal shirt, his hands didn't and they moved carefully and quickly. Bare skin was exposing itself bit by bit and it took genuine self-control for Kaz to hold his curiosity back and force himself not to idly trace the lines of old scars with his fingertips, grazing puckered skin and making it look like an accident.
Jack was not nor had he ever been unpleasant to look at. It was that seldom debated fact (yes, fact -- it wasn't like he was the only one who thought so) that kept Kaz grounded and constantly arguing with himself over a more disputed line of thought: whether or not looking at him in that way had been the result of a dinky little crush or if there was something more to it than that. He wasn't above infatuation, however temporary as most of those cases may have been, but the problem with this was that it wasn't brief. Two years later and he still hadn't forgotten or moved on. Simply enough, they lived together with a sweet, hurtful ache that Kaz had no idea was mutual until now.
But it didn't have to be like that for much longer. Jack's chest had been warm through the fabric of his shirt, and with it gone and discarded on the floor, Kaz discovered that it wasn't just warm to the touch -- it was hot, almost clammy as if the older man was preparing to break out into a cold sweat. He glanced up, curious.
"Uh. Shouldn't that wait until--" He cut himself off, biting his lower lip. Remember, don't rock the boat. He conceded hopelessly, "Nah, you're...I guess you're right. You already smell bad enough." Another chuckle, more nervous than the last, and he took a step back to sit on the bed reluctantly.
"Hurry up. The dessert isn't settling well in my stomach. I'll probably fall asleep if you take too long."
"I don't smell," Jack replied, a little offended though not seriously feeling that way. He was pretty sure he didn't smell, not least because he showered earlier this day, but even so he had no way of telling. Right now, he was just glad he had an excuse to leave Kaz for a while and sort out his thoughts; if everything went well, they could shower together again after they were...done. After this.
He padded over to the bathroom, entering, closing the door behind him (but not locking it, as he never did), and heaving a sigh. Well done, he thought, leaning his forehead against the flat surface of the door, scolding himself mentally for being such a flake. He wanted this more than anything, so why was he so terrified? Why did he feel the need to be alone for a bit and take a long, cold shower? It made no sense, unless perhaps it was performance anxiety. There were so many (unimportant) things he worried about, even as he got out of his shoes and socks and pants, little details and what-ifs. What if Kaz didn't like it. What if he acted too brash or like a total idiot. What if they both realized that it wasn't that nice, that it wasn't going to work out, if the theory was different from the practical act.
What if he decided to just stop here and never find out.
He turned on the water; it wasn't freezing cold, but not really warm, either, as he stepped into the shower cabin. He just needed to get a clear head, cool down a little. Down a little...that's where he looked, too. It was the first time in a long time that he looked at his own body consciously. It wasn't in bad shape by any means; well toned and with defined muscles, all in all something you'd consider attractive, and the scars couldn't change that. Even below the waist, he wasn't too bad off, though that was perhaps the problem - he was a man, and very much of one, too. And Kaz had admitted himself that he'd never - done anything like this before. With a man. The first time, no matter if it was with a man or with a woman, was always weird, but from his own experience, it had never been unpleasant. Skin always felt the same way, bodies were equally warm. The details seldom mattered.
...The details. Yeah, maybe he should stop thinking about them so much. Kaz was probably no less nervous, so at least he wasn't alone in this. Reaching for the shower gel, Jack hoped that a freshly showered man, smelling a little like strawberry, was not entirely appalling.
He waited until he heard the door close before allowing the forced, fake mask of amiability to crumble and the unsureness hidden beneath it to rear its ugly head. Kaz laid himself out on the bed, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the red paper lantern that hung on the ceiling above him, wondering if he had done something wrong. Jack was strange when it came to personal space, and the fact that Kaz was one of the few people who he could stand to be touched by spoke volumes about the nature of the trust between them. He never tensed up around him nor was he reluctant to return the gesture in kind, an elbow in the side or an arm around the shoulders when they were in their best of moods, so the reaction he received before Big Boss ran off to the bathroom was both confusing and dismaying. They were off to a great start already.
At least he isn't locking himself in there. The whisper of the older man's clothes hitting the floor in addition to the sound of running water was relieving; it told Kaz that, for the most part, it was just what Big Boss said it was and not a lie to save face. Not an attempt at stalling. The guy needed a shower, that was all. He just had horrible timing and an inopportune way of announcing it, that's it. What was there to worry about?
Absolutely nothing. If anything, what Kaz should have been feeling right now was envy; a tinge of frustration for coming up short and not being invited to join the other in the shower. The feeling was there, shying away, but he found that forcing it to the surface allowed him to find a new subject to take his mind off the one he was brooding on and it was more productive to think about what Jack was doing as opposed to what they should have been doing together right now. He found himself flushing mildly as he held the image in his mind's eye. He hadn't been lying when he brought up the dessert they'd eaten, some kind of cheesecake with fruit, raspberries and blueberries drizzled with chocolate; how it sat in his stomach and made him feel full and a little sleepy. Licking over his lips, he rolled over on his side and watched the door, propping himself up with his elbow, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.
It took ten minutes for the novelty to wear off and his unease to push itself to the surface again.
"Hey?" He called out, loud enough for Jack to hear him through the door, or so he hoped. "You still alive in there?"
No answer. Of course. This was taking forever and Kaz wasn't very good with dealing with impatience. He got up, quietly shuffling to the door with his head lowered, considering if he should just use taking a piss as an excuse and wondering if Big Boss was dense enough to buy it. You could never quite tell with him; at times, it was like he was selectively stupid.
Still, it was as good a crutch as any and the only thing he could think of. Exhaling deeply with his hand on the doorknob, Kaz turned it and pushed the door open with, as he would realize soon enough, more force than necessary.
Nope, he did not hear Kaz calling out to him over the constant stream of water, or maybe he just didn't realize how long he really was inside the shower. He never showered for very long - he had a standard of hygiene, but he didn't remain in there for longer than was necessary. When he was clean and felt refreshed enough, it was time to leave, but this time, he spent much more time in there, scrubbing himself clean and just - well, enjoying the water.
...Or rather, stalling for time. Of course he knew he couldn't be in here the whole night nor did he want to, especially since this whole thing had originally been HIS idea, he had initiated it, so he had pretty much no right to leave Kaz hanging like that, in every sense of the word. Provided the guy was even looking forward to any of this. Jack knew he had a slight stomachache already, and not from the dinner - it's been years since he'd last felt that way about someone. Back then, when he'd been young and naive and shy and he supposed he still was, to a degree, only that he was 40 now and not 20 and totally inexperienced anymore.
When he finished up, he seriously considered for a moment to put his clothes back on, but then reminded himself that ideally, he shouldn't need any at all; so he just grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around his waist once he was done toweling himself (still wet, though).
Unfortunately though, just as he was about to exit, Kaz had a similar, just slightly inversed idea. Apparently, knocking before entering was really too much to ask (his own fault for not locking the door, he supposed), and so he got a doorful right in his face, hard enough to send him reeling while swearing.
In hindsight, he really should have knocked. Why it slipped his mind now of all possible times eluded him; frazzled nerves, perhaps, and impatience that gripped him and left no room for common sense. The door didn't open all the way because something was in the way, something big and heavy, and he would have pushed harder if he hadn't heard at precisely that second a thunderous crack. Wood against rock -- no, not rock, but something just as hard and not stupid enough to stay silent as it stumbled back on a wet linoleum floor.
"Shit!" The word slipped instinctively, the most (and only) natural thing Kaz could say when the realization that he'd beaned Big Boss in the head with the door sank in. The second instinct to push his way in and reach out to grab the other man by the arm before he slipped on the floor came next, but it had felt instantaneous. His already tense nerves were pulled taut like sensitive thread and his mind whirlwinded into panic and he didn't bother to set it straight.
I didn't -- I thought --
"Are you okay?" Managing to still his free hand, Kaz tucked it under Jack's chin and tilted it upwards, checking for bruises and the telltale signs of a broken nose. Granted, there was only so much damage getting hit with a door could do, but...
"I was just gonna --" --use the bathroom, see if you were trying to bail, say something, damnit-- "I had to use the -- ugh! Goddamnit!"
There was blood at his temples. Not a whole lot but enough to start trickling. Without thinking, Kaz grabbed one of the clean washcloths that hung on the rack next to the door and pressed it against the laceration.
Ouch. That hurt - pretty bad, actually, though he's lived through worse. Fortunately, Kaz didn't even get his nose, only his temple, and even though it was bleeding, it was nothing serious. He was more concerned about the towel slipping, so he tugged it back up, hissing. Kaz had caused him worse injuries than a minor laceration on his temple, and even though the man was very...caring right now, for some reason (honestly, that one time when he'd been shot in the shoulder Kaz had had the time to comment on the nurse's new outfit before asking him how he was doing), but it just made him want to bail even more.
He shook his head, "It's fine," he reassured, then, finding his balance, took the washcloth out of Kaz's hand and walked back into the bedroom, clad only in aforementioned towel and still dripping wet.
...What a nice date this was. He sat down on the bed, and began to brood, pressing the cloth firmly against his temple. Actually he wanted to be angry and yell and ask Kaz what the hell he was thinking, can't you even knock, it's rude to just enter the bathroom, but he wasn't in the mood for any of that. The whole right side of his face was aching, throbbing with pain (and he probably looked funny, too), and all he wanted to do right now was rest. Alternatively, do something. Anything.
So difficult.
No, it wasn't. It really wasn't. Kaz shook his head stubbornly, following him. "I should've knocked. You were taking your time, so I...I just thought you were still showering. You wouldn't have noticed."
Hesitantly as if gauging how wanted he was right now, he sat next to Big Boss on the edge of the bed. Yeah, it could have been worse; he could have hit him harder, leaving something worse than a simple cut and bruise. There could have been a crunch instead of a crack and Big Boss could have been pressing that white--now dull pink--cloth against his nose in a vain attempt to staunch a torrent of blood. Worse yet, Kaz could have pushed the door hard enough to knock Jack on his ass, in which case he was sure to receive a reaction far more bitter and resentful than the quietly fuming one he was getting now. He was lucky now that the other was still speaking to him.
"I'm sorry," He said finally, quietly, and he meant it. So much for a nice, private night between them. If one of them didn't have cold feet, the other did and of course it had to lead to violence. Every damn time. If sentimentality couldn't be counted on, blood certainly could. "Positive this isn't how you expected tonight to end, huh?"
There was a grim finality laced in those words, his way of saying how he expected the rest of the night to proceed. An early end to the party if there ever was one, but it wasn't like they were doing much celebrating to begin with. Warily as if expecting to be swatted away, he gently pushed against Jack's chest to get him to lay down, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the towel was slipping again. He tried not to look down as his hand drifted there to pull the wet cloth back up, trying to make himself look nonplussed and not disappointed at all.
Or embarrassed for that matter when his palm brushed against the stiff, distinct bulge outlined through the fabric. He added quickly, "You should probably rest."
That didn't go unnoticed. He blinked, confused. When Kaz's hand drifted off (down there) he automatically held his breath, half-expecting him to tug the towel down instead of up. He wasn't that lucky, though, because that would have made things a lot easier - easier to ignore those comments, too, about the night ending and him having to rest.
This was all wrong...and there was only one way to make it right.
Screw it. If he was laying down on the bed already, he might as well -
"Keep it there," he said quickly, making a grab for Kaz's wrist before he could remove his hand completely, shoving it back down into his lap, to that bulge he had just brushed over, and somehow managed to get his hand to cup it. He felt stupid, of course, because this was a pretty clumsy attempt at initiating something...sexual, but right now, he supposed it was better than nothing, though that didn't change the fact that he went beet-red; at least he could mask that with the flushed cheeks he already had from showering for so long as he forced himself to look into Kaz's eyes.
And reach up with his other hand, touching his cheek, his neck, arching his own hips and rocking into his hand ever so subtly, with only a towel inbetween.
"Ah." All he could bring himself to say. Ah -- an understanding, matter-of-fact grunt of a noise that he still managed to ruin just by looking like someone had slapped him across the face. His cheeks were tinged with red and his eyes widened marginally. Are you sure? is what he should have said, and he drew in a deep breath as if he were about to say just that, to question the figurative gift that had been dropped right in his lap like that, but nothing came out save for another more shaky "ah", this time when rough, calloused fingers brushed against the contours of his face.
Jack may have felt stupid right now, but Kaz could attest to feeling ten times more ridiculous as his hand tightened gradually over the bulge. He didn't even know what to do (and how could he not, really? it wasn't like he didn't know what to do with his own cock) and when the older man began rolling his hips in that subtle but very pronounced way that forced him to go with it, he was just about ready to suck in another mouthful of air just to keep himself steady. Relaxed.
He wants it, He thought, eyes never wandering from Big Boss' lone and now artificial blue one. The side of his head's bleeding and he's probably still pissed, but not enough to stop him from wanting this.
The disheartening weight on his chest dissipated, and he felt enough nerve to keep at it, fondling Jack's still flaccid member through the towel as he climbed onto the bed fully, knitting a brow in concentration. It might have felt good, but not great. He wanted to take it a step further.
His free hand placed itself over the one Big Boss had over his face, holding it there, while his active one sneakily slipped between the towel and down beneath where it grasped--albeit clumsily--for the older man's penis.
He was close to moaning right there, but stifled the sound by pressing his lips together and biting down on his tongue - albeit not painfully so. He wanted to say something, though he didn't know what; and he was afraid that the moment he opened his mouth, there'd be - sounds escaping him, embarrassing him further. He was lucky enough that Kaz chose not to comment on it and just went along with it, to hell with it all.
Really lucky, considering the mans initial reluctance due to inexperience (or so he hoped). Then again, there wasn't much to know about gay sex - if you like it being done to you, your partner probably likes it, too. He liked Kaz's fingers curled around his hardening cock, even if the grip wasn't as firm, but it always feels weird the first time you touch a dick that isn't your own. Jack didn't fault him for that; they could work from here.
Given that Kaz didn't need anymore guidance or prompting, Jack had one hand free, and decided that the best place for it to be was right underneath Kaz's shirt. Jack was as good as naked already, but his partner was still too clothed for his taste, and he didn't want to be the only one who got something out of this and enjoyed himself. With his fingers touching his skin, he traced the lines of his abs, up to his pecs; just feeling the skin below his palm in a way he had never felt it before. It was something else. Something he could get used to.
"You should kiss me, you know," he somehow had enough nerve to tease him, despite his position.
Even if he had heard a moan slip from Big Boss, what position was he in to make fun of him? Kaz's breath hitched at the dick hardening beneath his fingers, palming and roaming along the shaft. His intent was to approach the matter as one might approach an experiment -- carefully and always with the awareness that he was being judged every step of the way, or so he thought. It was hard to keep Jack's confidence down entirely because, whether Kaz liked it or not, the other had bounced back to his usual cheekiness that seemed to best present itself in intimate situations like this. He'd seen it on Sunday when they were on the roof; how, despite the embarrassment, the hangups, the general awkward rift between them, Big Boss could still find something to poke fun at. Maybe it was his strange way of lightening the mood. His way of saying don't worry in as many words as possible.
Good advice. The cords in Kaz's neck stretched and his head tilted and his once steady, shallow breath was now uneven with his own barely suppressed arousal and all he could think of was of the hand exploring his chest. That was Big Boss' hand, and in his own he had his cock. Even if I'm not like that I'm touching him and, wouldn't you know it, we're going to do it. Here. Right now.
Always a pleasant fantasy, that, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it the worst of times and even if it had always left him with that same ache afterwards. He eyed the other curiously, a lopsided little grin gnawing at his mouth.
"Only if you help me get these off." He lowered his body down onto Jack's after a moment of pause, letting go of the older man's hand to relocate it to his head, running it through his still damp hair. He wished he had something more sarcastic to say, something that would have hit hard, but only his lips would suffice now. Kaz licked over Big Boss', testing himself and deciding that he liked their coarseness, how pliant they were, and then kissed him in earnest seconds later.
Mmmmh. That was the only thought he had, and also the only sound he made, humming against and into Kaz's mouth, having no time to wonder about the lack of a snarky response. Instead, he gave a complying one; moving his hand and kissing him deeply.
Maybe this was getting somewhere after all. They had kissed before, although always reluctantly and unsure of what to do exactly with that hardness that was building between his legs, trying to force it back, but this time, he didn't have to. On the contrary, he wanted to get completely hard as soon as possible, if only to let Kaz know how much he really enjoyed this, how - content he felt. Content and all right with this.
...And drawn to the other man, of course. And from there on, it all happened naturally; he didn't have to force an erection, or his tongue to move against his, or his hand to wander back down Kaz's chest and stomach to his belt and fly. He couldn't see them nor did he need to; working both open wasn't difficult, though he did it deliberately slowly, and, once he was done, slipped his hand inside and groping his way. He liked what he found, enough to make him grin against another pair of lips, sucking on them.
He didn't keep his hand in Kaz's pants for long, though; that was just a teaser. Instead, he pushed him away subtly with both hands so he could help him get out of his shirt by grabbing its seam and pull if over his head.
And not one second after it was off, his hands were back on his body, pulling it down again.
Tease. Kaz was unable to help himself from shivering, the subconscious desire to thrust his hips into the hand that groped its way into his pants. He was running purely on instinct now, doing what felt was best. Being fondled was only half of it. He wanted to be drawn close, held steady by two firm arms before he lost his nerve to act again. Not like it seemed as though it was going to happen any time soon, though; if the hand wandering up and down his budding erection was anything but pleasant, he would have torn himself away from Big Boss in a flash. Instead he sighed near silently, barely holding himself back from groaning, first out of pleasure and next out of restrained disappointment when Big Boss pushed him back and forced them to separate for an instant.
The shirt fell to crumpled heap on the floor. He was about ready to start pulling his pants off before Jack pulled him back down again, rather abruptly, and he let out a surprised little mh! when their lips connected again. His taste was, Kaz decided, a mixture of tobacco from the cigar he'd smoked an hour again and the sweet aftertaste of the recent cake they had eaten, a somewhat bitter, cloying combination that stuck with Kaz as he continued to suck on Jack's lips and tongue. It wasn't disgusting enough to warrant separation; not at all. He continued to kiss him, moving down from Big Boss' mouth to his chin and then his neck, sucking on skin with a firmness he felt confident the other man would enjoy. Couldn't be too soft, after all. Where was the fun in that?
"'s funny," He husked, pausing right above Jack's left nipple. His hand was getting very slick, sticky with a substance he was well-familiar with and it made him a little dazed that he was even feeling it. "For a while there, I thought you were gonna call the whole thing off."
Not funny at all, if only for the reaction Big Boss would have gotten if he dared to pull such a stunt after the nightmare that was dinner. Kaz shifted again, taking a deep breath and finally deciding it was time to get rid of that towel.
Jack didn't object. At this point, he barely cared about the towel hanging loosely around his hips anymore; what he cared about was the man on top of him, kissing and biting and sucking on his skin. He did it in a way that made Jack wonder if this was really his first time with a man, but then again, he supposed that women were equally sensitive to these little touches.
"You've never seen me running away from a challenge before, have you?" He said, running a hand through blond hair and smoothing it back, and added, giving a short, hoarse laugh and thrusting into his hand, "I just wanted to smell nice for you. Sorry about that."
He gave a content hum, and closed his eye for a minute or two, just taking all of this in - his hand, his teasing voice, the atmosphere. Not even a month ago he would have never thought anything like this would ever happen between the two of them; christ, even ten minutes ago he hadn't thought this would still happen. But it was happening, and it was good - not least because for the first time in a long time, he was able to relax and enjoy it for what it was. Maybe a little more, given there was love involved; he trusted his partner implicitely, even if he knew that that perhaps wasn't very recommendable.
Still, that was one can of worms he didn't want to think about right now. He wanted to think about the hand running up and down his cock and warming him, the whole night -
Yeah, but that wasn't very nice of him. He had to give something back, not that he didn't want to, but it's been ages since anyone had been taking such good care of him. Not that there wasn't still room for improvement, but he wasn't picky.
With a heavy, drawn-out sigh though, Jack pushed against Kaz' chest until he was upright on his knees, then sat up himself, and yanked the only pair of pants down that was still left, helping him out of them hastily and tossing them somewhere next to the bed - he didn't look, his gaze was trained on the man, looking up into his face while his hands were exploring his hips and stomach and thighs, then finally settled on his now exposed erection, grasping it firmly for the first time and giving it a few hard strokes until it was all slick and wet.
He didn't comment on that, though there was a distant sense of pride that he felt; having this hardness in his palm.
He leaned forward and kissed down the shaft without any signs of hesitation; after his lips, his tongue soon followed, and he remembered how a man tasted. It wasn't disgusting, just something he'd pushed to the back of his mind for a long time and, gripping the base of his cock with one hand and steadying the man's hip with his other, he finally moved to its head and parted his lips, taking it into his mouth - just an inch or two for now, sucking lightly.
"You smell like a giant strawberry," He spoke breathlessly, choking down another laugh. "That's your idea of nice?"
He didn't even know why he said it like that; it just came out, another string of husky words that slipped off his tongue before he could do anything to stop himself or add that he very much liked how Jack smelled. Even though he preferred more muskier scents--sweat, wet, clammy skin after a day's worth of swimming in the ocean or exercising on a rain-soaked beach--the one that clung to the other's damp body wasn't bad at all. Kaz inhaled, taking it in, pushing his tongue against the nipple he was about to suck on. So far, so good. Men weren't so different from women at all; they were receptive to pleasure in more or less the same places at the very least, and the reactions he was getting from Big Boss were exceptionally pleasing. It was like taking a shot in the dark and realizing that you had not only hit your target on the first try, but had also somehow come across a payload of precious treasure by literally walking into it. Not bad for a first timer.
A warm glow settled upon him, neither pride nor relief. Comfort, pure and simple and poignant, and affection that had gone unchecked for too long. Kaz realized faintly that he could be sucking on this spot for a while and still be content, and it was a little amusing if only for how damn stupid they must have looked -- a pair of grown men carrying on like two virgins. It would have been hysterically funny if it wasn't so sad.
So naturally, it came as a surprise when he was pushed off and he immediately opened his mouth to protest. "H-hey, I wasn't--" --finished. The word died on his lips with the first hard stroke that sent another shiver up his spine. This time Kaz didn't bother holding back a groan, considering it a small mercy that the noise came out throaty and muffled, and for one brief moment he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Couldn't even begin to describe how it felt.
"Oh..." Warm, wet heat. The very same lips he had been kissing up until a minute ago. Both of his now empty hands went to Big Boss' head immediately, twining through hair and rubbing against scalp, clumsy. Though he wasn't selfish enough to ignore his partner's own needs in a time like this, he was starting to become even more conscious of his own and how good it would feel if Jack could take him in further. Just a little more.
Don't be greedy. Don't be stingy. This was more than enough. Affectionately, he stroked the older man's hair and urged him forward.
A satisfied sound coming from Kaz if he's ever heard one. Smiling inwardly, he drew back for a brief moment, licking over his lips while watching the other man's facial expression closely. He himself was embarrassed, yes - this wasn't something he did regularly, and it was reserved for people he truly cared about - but he wasn't gonna let that stop him anymore. The first time is always awkward, but you could get used to it. His hand moved again; and foreskin slid over the head, and back, and forth.
After the tenth or so stroke he leaned forward again, lips touching his exposed glans briefly; before wrapping themselves around it and sliding over the shaft effortlessly until he'd taken as much of him in as he was able to without attempting to deepthroat him. That was something he'd try later, when it didn't matter if he screwed up and ended up gagging.
Once his cock hit the back of Jack's throat, he moved his head back, running his tongue along the bottom of the hard flesh, then repeated the whole procedure a couple of times - sucking his cock, blowing him in the most ordinary, vulgar way, until so much saliva collected in his mouth that it trickled down his chin.
With any other person, he would have felt filthy and humiliated. Right now, he didn't mind it at all, and was able to concentrate on the task at hand, though his own neglected arousal was twitching between his legs, and his other hand wandered down between them in order to fondle it a little. From there on, he let Kaz's hands on his head set a pace, and moved according to his ministrations.
For most of the time, he kept his eye closed, but once in a while he opened it and looked up as much as he could without interrupting himself; wanting to see the other man's expression, his eyes, if at all possible.
His toes curled and clenched and he was breathing shallowly, erratically as he strained to keep himself from thrusting. Making this easy for Jack was a priority no matter how much of himself he was losing in the process, nudged out of him like the older man was undoubtedly doing with his inevitable climax, but it was a priority nonetheless that he kept at the front of his mind, refusing to let it be swept back by each wave of arousal that swept over him. In addition to being good with his hands, the older man was amazing with his mouth, too. It spoke volumes about him, more than Kaz would have ever known or cared to ask about, and idly he wondered how many times Big Boss had done this before in the past; how many men he'd taken into his mouth, how many had gotten off to the image of the older one's bobbing head buried between their thighs, if was the only one. He would have liked to believe he was the first even if that was probably an arrogant wish on his part, but it was still a nice one and that was all that mattered. He found himself needing very little else right now.
"Oh. Oh, Boss..." A tiny, weak chuckle. His face was hot and flushed, but that was okay, Jack wasn't any better off. At least Kaz wasn't drooling yet. "Anyone ever tell you you're really -- really good at this?"
Stupid question. Damn, at this rate it wouldn't take very long at all for him to come...
That's not the only thing I'm good at.
That's what he wanted to say. Something along those lines, anyway, or perhaps Did you really expect anything less? Though that would make him sound arrogant, so it was probably a good thing that his mouth was too full to speak. He just glanced up to him, an unreadable expression in his single, fake eye.
When Kaz could barely hold back the thrusting, Jack decided that it was enough for now or else it might be over to soon. There were so many other things they could do; they weren't restricted to only hands and mouths and what he had in mind was actually the one act he'd been looking forward to since he realized that Kaz was willing to engage in this sort of relationship with him. He removed his cock from his mouth, giving it a last lick before wiping the saliva from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, then placed both hands on each side of Kaz's hips to push him back. And down, onto the mattress, without any heads-up.
Jack immediately crawled on top of him, but didn't bother to hold him down. He didn't think that after that, there'd be much of a resistance; and so he moved to kiss him, unconcerned about the precome he no doubt still had in his mouth and which Kaz would get to taste now.
He moved close enough so that their erections could touch and rub against each other, and he grasped them both with one hand as far as he was able; grinding his hips subtly into his crotch.
And then his hand, still conveniently wet from wiping over his mouth, sneaked down past his scrotum between his buttocks.
All he needed was that hand on his face again for this to be perfect. Holding it would have been just as good, taking it into his own and linking fingers until the joints began to hurt from being bared down on. The man's breath tickling his arousal and the tight heat that threatened to consume it entirely was nice too, but above all, he wanted to feel Big Boss in every conceivable way. Shame I only have two hands and he only has one mouth. Heh...
He was losing it, wasn't he? In retrospect, this should have been the part where, upon being shoved onto his back, he would have protested the loss of Jack's mouth around his cock more vocally aside from making an irate, disappointed nngh but it changed the moment he felt nails dig into his hips as hands held him down firmly and a wet, somewhat sticky tongue prodded against his lips and entered with little to no resistance. Never got tired of that, even though each of their kisses were growing progressively more animalistic. Kaz only realized what the bitter substance coating Jack's tongue and lips was when they hastily broke for air for a few seconds, noting the stringy webbing it created between their saliva drenched lips, a thread that connected them that was broken the moment he smashed his mouth together with Jack's again, and he wasn't as disgusted with it as one might think. The surreality of it all was too great, and the fact that he was sucking on his own precum only added to it.
At the hips grinding into him, he returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm and was just about to start raking his nails over Jack's back before he felt something that made him tense up everywhere. It probably didn't do him any good--only made the penetration more painful like something stiff had wormed its way inside him, too small to cause significant damage but big enough to hurt and scratch--and his breath was caught in his throat and the only thing he could bring himself to utter was an a-ah, taken aback. His face burned and before he knew it, he was pushing Big Boss back by the shoulders.
"You should, uh -- aim a little higher." A nervous and decidedly forced laugh followed. Kaz lowered one hand and tried to gingerly direct the wet one down there up to his crotch. "And what's the rush? Why don't you slow down?"
You didn't even ask. That bothered him the most, he decided. He tried edging back on the mattress, trying to get some breathing room between them and only succeeding in hitting the pillows behind him in the process.
Well, now it showed that someone was still a virgin in some areas. Or just shy. But he wouldn't let Kaz distract him; Jack knew what he wanted and even though this was getting dangerous in terms of consent, he was sure he'd have more convincing arguments. Within seconds, his hand was back down where it had been before, not quite fully pushing in yet, but prodding and teasing.
"I'm not rushing anything. I'm taking my time. To make it easier for you, of course." Saying that, his single finger pushed in an inch or so; still harmless compared to what he was sure would follow later. At the same time, he made himself heavier on top of the man, holding him down with his weight alone, smiling mischievously. "This is a part of it, too. It'll be good, just relax." He gave him a full kiss on the lips, reassuringly, or so he hoped, because nothing would be dumber than having to stop here because Kaz was too afraid to have anything shoved up his butt.
(Not that Jack ever considered to be on the receiving end himself; not voluntarily so.)
With his other hand, he took hold of the man's erection again, grasping it firmly and stroking him; setting a pace that went along with the subtle movements of his finger - in, forward, out, back; so every little thrust was accompanied by a pleasurable stroke.
As much as Big Boss likely thought this was helping--his way of preparing the younger man and giving him a taste of what was to come--each little penetration and the scrapes the followed when he dragged his finger back out, then in, then out again was just that -- a tease. His stomach was rising and falling an an erratic rhythm, his lungs trying to compensate for the air lost with every rough stroke from the other's hand that took his breath right out of him in ragged little spurts. Jack's weight didn't help either; the man was built well and was, believe it or not, heavier than he was. Having him laying atop his own body as if it were a pillow made Kaz feel engulfed, held tight and trapped, and it was hard not to squirm.
"I didn't know that -- that part of it also said you'd be the one on top." It was choked out, and while the words themselves weren't spoken sarcastically, the context behind them stood strong. Truth be told, he was a little -- okay, a lot nervous. No one could blame him for being so, not when he could barely keep from quivering now when Jack's finger wasn't even entering him that roughly, but even that wasn't an issue so much as the fact that he was expected to be on the receiving end. Jack didn't even ask; he took. Bossy -- he really does live up to his name...
Kaz hunched his shoulders, taking in a deep breath and groaning softly under the strain of it all, mumbling incoherently around Big Boss' lips. He tilted his head to the side and grazed his teeth along the contours of the other's shoulder before sinking them into the soft flesh, biting down.
If this was how it was going to be, fine. No one said that he couldn't be just as rough and there was no better way to prove it than by making a point right here -- he wouldn't go down quietly without a fight. Jack would have to try harder if he wanted him to submit.
He exhaled air through clenched teeth; a sharp hiss when Kaz bit him in the shoulder, "The hell was that for?"
He had a mind to punch the man square in the balls for that, an action he absolutely didn't deserve, in his eyes - of course Kaz was a little prissy when it came to submitting on his own, but you'd expect that he'd make an exception for someone he'd been friends with for two years. "Don't be a pansy," he grumbled, trying to wedge him off his shoulder and push him back into the sheets.
Naturally he could already predict Kaz's reasoning once he used his mouth to speak again - Why don't you do it, if you aren't a pansy? Likely not expecting that either of them would be willing to do it.
He hadn't though this would be so difficult, and it wasn't like he wanted to force him if he was serious about not wanting to bottom to him. Jack, too, wasn't fond of the thought of himself being in that position, not because it might hurt or be uncomfortable, no - it had something to do about being vulnerable and dependent on someone else. He didn't want to depend on someone else, and he didn't want to be taken advantage of, either through someone using him for their own pleasure or by teasing him and denying him his.
Kaz was the same. So, he supposed, it had a lot to do with trust, and if it helped them to deepen their relationship, then he'd get over himself and do the first step. But not without being grumpy about it, though; still -
"Fine. You're too chickenshit to get your ass pounded? I'm not, so don't get too comfortable."
- there was a sense of superiority in submitting, to let Kaz know not only that he was a coward (and lacked the necessary trust), but that Jack wasn't really worried at all; that it was easy for him to say, 'okay, you do the work'.
He sat up, moved the the other end of the bed and looked through the nightstand, then leaned against the headboard; half-leaning half-laying down after he'd found what he was looking for.
He'd never done this before, but that didn't mean he had to let Kaz know that when he spread his legs and started to prepare himself. Rubbing more salt into the wound he'd just inflicted on Kaz, he was sure; even more so when tossing the tube at him with the words and you better lube the hell out of that, too.