by Meg Harding
“We need to move this to the hotel room,” he says, forehead pressed to Jackson’s, their breath shared in the miniscule space between them.
“Too far.” Jackson brushes their noses together, rubs his face against him like a cat.
“It’ll be worth it.” It takes sheer will to untangle himself from Jackson’s clinging limbs and rise to a stand. Sand falls from him like rain, dusting over Jackson beneath him. He holds his hand out and drags him up, helping him to swat his clothes free of the golden grains. He twines their fingers together, shifting till Jackson’s ring no longer pinches his skin.
The walk to their hotel is done in comfortable silence, neither of them wanting to break the anticipatory atmosphere that’s hovering around them. Aaron feels like he’s buzzing with energy and desire with the plans he has for once he can get Jackson flat on a bed.
Of course it isn’t till he’s pushing Jackson onto the bed, watching his loose limbs sprawl, the way his lips part, that he realizes he didn’t bring condoms or lube with him. He wasn’t expecting to have sex.
He runs his hands up Jackson’s splayed legs. “Do you have anything?” he asks. Jackson’s brows furrow in confusion. “Condoms.”
Jackson looks devastated, sharp blue eyes widening. Yeah, Aaron didn’t think so. He climbs onto the bed to kneel between Jackson’s legs. “It’s fine,” he reassures him softly. “I’ll get some tomorrow. There’s still plenty we can do tonight.” He flicks the button on Jackson’s tiny blue shorts open, slowly tugs his zipper down. “Hips up.” Jackson obliges, and he pulls them and his yellow Andrew Christian briefs down in one movement. He tosses them behind him, doesn’t look to see where they land. Jackson’s shirt is still on, the fabric shaking with his heavy exhales. “Take that off.” He’d do it himself, but he doesn’t have the patience for all those buttons.
He settles in the vee of Jackson’s legs and starts with kissing the side of his knee, working his way up with light kisses and teasing nibbles till Jackson’s thighs are shuddering, the muscles flexing with eagerness. The sounds falling from his slack mouth are delightful, and Aaron can’t wait to hear how he sounds when he swallows him down. If he’s moaning now, he’ll be crying out then. His cock is stiff and trailing up, his sac nice and tight in front of Aaron’s face. His own cock is painfully hard, and he makes sure to drag it over the bedspread as he sinks his teeth into Jackson’s right thigh and sucks.
Jackson shifts restlessly beneath him, legs twitching and hips lifting in little jumps from the bed. He puts his hands on either side of Jackson’s cock, fingers tracing the sharp line of his hip muscle, and pushes him down. The more Jackson tries to move and Aaron doesn’t allow it, the more frantic his noises become.
He starts with nuzzling Jackson’s sac, soft brushes of his lips and nose, and moves up from the bottom of his hard shaft to the very top with its glistening head. Jackson’s making a mess of his stomach. Aaron sucks him in with no warning, sealing his lips around the tip and sucking delightedly. He moans around him, laves his tongue over Jackson’s slit and pushes it against sensitive bundles of nerves.
When Jackson’s mewls have reached an entirely new decibel level, he slides his mouth down farther. Jackson’s slender and long, and he quickly reaches the back of Aaron’s throat. Aaron takes as much as he can, swallows and groans around it, works his tongue eagerly and thoroughly. He wiggles his hips and manages to get one of Jackson’s legs between his own, and when he grinds down, his cock drags over firm, lightly haired muscle. His moans around Jackson’s cock become deeper, his mouth a little sloppier. Jackson’s hands fly to his hair and tangle in the strands, tugging just on the right side of pain.
The closer he gets, the breathier he becomes. When Aaron glances up from beneath his lashes, it’s to see Jackson’s neck and the underside of his chin, the flush crawling down the creamy flesh. His head is tilted completely back, his throat working frantically as his breathing comes in “ahs” and broken hitches.
Originally he planned to draw this out, to tease Jackson till he was nothing but a quivering mess. But he’s already a quivering mess, and Aaron really doesn’t want to wait any longer. His stomach is molten heat, his cock dribbling a slick path up and over Jackson’s leg. It won’t take much to send him tipping.
He takes one of his hands away from Jackson’s hip and drags his fingers down. The noise that rips from Jackson’s throat, accompanied by a hard jerk of his entire body when Aaron presses two fingers right behind his sac, might be the best thing he’s ever heard. He doesn’t let up the pressure as he swallows hotly around Jackson’s twitching shaft.
For all the noise Jackson has been making, his orgasm is silent. His back arches off the bed. His hands go slack in Aaron’s hair before tightening fiercely. Warmth pulses into Aaron’s mouth, and he hurriedly pulls back enough to taste him before pulling off entirely. He watches the way Jackson’s cock jerks and pulses as he comes, admires the milky white that stripes up and over the jut of his hip bones and the cut of his heaving abdomen.
He crawls up him, slips and slides his own cock through the mess on Jackson’s belly. He takes Jackson’s mouth while he rolls his hips, shares with him the taste of Jackson that is bright and fresh on his tongue. Jackson’s lips are lazy under his, slow and uncoordinated with orgasm. Aaron’s movements become sharper, less graceful, the closer he comes to his own release. They’re not so much kissing as they are panting into each other’s open mouths, but he can’t bring himself to pull away.
When he finally comes, his hips pushing hard into the cradle of Jackson’s, his grunt is swallowed by Jackson, who kisses him eagerly and thoroughly. His hands are running over Aaron’s back, and Aaron shivers as Jackson traces the way Aaron’s muscles are shaking from his orgasm with his fingers.
He feels tingly all over, like little sparks are shooting from his limbs. The heat spreading rapidly between their bodies only encourages his hips to shudder forward, to drag his cock one last time through their combined pleasure.
It takes everything in his tired, Jell-O-like muscles to collapse to the right of Jackson and not on him. “Fuck,” he says. There’s a lot of meaning behind it. Fuck, that was the best sex he ever had. Fuck, Jackson is completely and utterly perfect. Fuck, he’s so in over his head and they’ve barely even started. Fuck, he already never wants to stop.
“We certainly did,” says Jackson, interrupting his thoughts, his voice slurred and slow. He starts to giggle, turning his body to curl against Aaron. Aaron wraps his arm around him and closes his eyes. Soon Jackson’s giggles have him laughing, and somewhere between honking laughs and shaking bodies, they fall asleep twined together like that.
Chapter Nine
SOMEONE SHAKES his shoulder, and he waves his hand to swat at them. “G’way,” says Jackson, refusing to open his eyes. He feels comfortable and content. He doesn’t ever want to move.
“I made coffee,” says Aaron, sounding far too perky for such an ungodly hour. “I can bring you a cup, if you want.”
Jackson would like nothing more than for coffee to be delivered to him in bed, especially if it’s accompanied by food. He could really use the energy. “Why’re you up?” he grumbles, rolling over to face him and slitting his eyes open. Sadly, Aaron is dressed, wearing an army green tank that shows his arms off to perfection.
Aaron smiles. “It’s almost eleven. If you don’t get up, your mom is going to charge in here and drag you out.”
He forces himself to sit up. It’s a lot of effort. His body feels like a limp noodle. “You broke me,” he says, reaching out to twist his fingers in Aaron’s shirt and tug him in for a kiss. “Is this okay?” he thinks to ask when their lips meet. Some of his past boyfriends didn’t like when he led things.
“’Course,” murmurs Aaron, kissing him slowly back. “But your coffee is going to get cold if you don’t get up.”
“Fine,” he sighs, and Aaron pulls away with a laugh.
“Get dressed,” he says as he exits the room. “I’ll ha
ve everything waiting.”
Dorian is sprawled on the couch wearing nothing but briefs when Jackson stumbles into the living space. He has a coffee cup balanced on his stomach. The entire area smells like coffee, eggs, and bacon. He turns his head. Aaron’s in the kitchen, puttering around in front of the stove, presumably creating the delicious smells that are filling the cabin.
His stomach rumbles.
Aaron turns and grins at him, waving the spatula in greeting. “I’ll have breakfast done in one second. Do you want your coffee first?”
“Coffee,” he says, deciding just this once he’ll risk the headache to feel more awake, his voice comes out morning gruff. “Definitely coffee.”
Aaron brings it to him, fingers grazing his as he passes the cup off. His hand is warm from the mug. “I should have asked, but do you have a preference for your eggs? I can make another batch if you don’t like scrambled.”
“Scrambled is fine.” He holds the mug up to his face, not drinking just yet but letting the smell fill his nose. His eyes sink closed as he breathes it in. He hears Aaron chuckle and peeks through his lashes, watching as he moves back to the stove to finish the eggs. It’s like there’s a glow of happiness in his sternum, and he can’t help but stare. No relationship has ever made him feel like this, and he wonders if that’s because he hasn’t put expectations on this. Aaron is a genuinely good guy, and Jackson’s not weighing this thing they have down with thoughts of a future. He’s finally just enjoying the now.
Aaron makes a mean cup of coffee, and Jackson lets out a happy noise around his mouthful. “What did you do to it?” he asks once he’s swallowed, eagerly taking another sip. It’s piping hot and burns his mouth, but it takes everything in him not to guzzle it down. He thinks he can taste the faintest traces of cinnamon.
“That’s a secret,” says Aaron, turning to wink at him from where he’s scooping the eggs onto plates. It should look over-the-top, but he somehow makes the cheesy motion work.
Dorian snorts from his position on the couch. “You two are ridiculous,” he says, but his voice is fond and teasing.
Jackson quirks a brow, pulse quickening as the lightest of blushes stains Aaron’s cheeks. “Someone doesn’t want their breakfast,” mutters Aaron, turning swiftly back to his eggs. He flicks the stovetop off.
“Bacon too?” Aaron asks Jackson.
“Nope, don’t eat pig.” Jackson takes a seat at the counter, cradling his mug between both of his hands, holding it under his nose. Every few seconds he takes a small sip, savoring the elegant flavor.
Aaron serves him first. His plate is filled to the brim with eggs. He sits a water bottle down beside it. Jackson looks at it. He’s already got coffee. He doesn’t know how thirsty Aaron thinks he is.
“It’s good for your skin,” explains Aaron. “You shouldn’t only drink coffee.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he says, pulling his plate closer. The eggs look fluffy. His mouth waters. They taste as good as they look. “This is fantastic,” he says and can’t help the way his cock twitches in his shorts when Aaron looks so pleased by his compliment. He looks like Jackson has just told him he’s won an award. The praise doesn’t stop him from nudging the water closer to Jackson when he takes another sip of his coffee, though.
Rolling his eyes, Jackson uncaps the bottle and takes a long swig. “Happy?”
Aaron nods, brown eyes practically sparkling with mirth. “Yes,” he says. He goes to the fridge and comes back with a small bowl with mixed fruits in it. He sets it down in front of Jackson. “Eat this, and I’ll be even happier.”
Jackson looks from the fruit to him. “Are you some kind of health nut?” he wonders aloud. He doesn’t have anything against fruit… he just isn’t its biggest fan. “How has this not come out before?”
“I made you bacon,” says Aaron, shoving the bowl closer with a broad smile. “Forgot you don’t eat it, but I thought you were going to, so I can’t be too big of a health nut.”
At the same time, Dorian says, “He’s definitely a health nut.”
Aaron launches a strawberry from the bowl in Dorian’s direction. He smiles at Jackson as Dorian indignantly squawks in the background. “One less bite you have to eat.”
Jackson snorts. He can hear Dorian getting up, and he turns to look. He keeps track of Aaron from the corner of his eye and can’t help but be impressed (and more than a little relieved) when Aaron’s gaze doesn’t stick to all the skin Dorian is flashing. There’s a reason his brother is a model. Jackson’s hard-pressed to find someone who won’t look at the twins appreciatively.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” he asks. “And where is Denver?”
Dorian tries to flick his forehead as he walks by, but Jackson jerks out of the way. “It’s too early for clothes and questions, but if you must know, Denver picked himself up a dancer last night. He didn’t bring him back here. Which, you know, probably for the best. I don’t think I could have coped with the racket from you and him.”
“Dorian,” snaps Aaron.
Jackson presses his heated face to the cool kitchen island and closes his eyes. He can’t believe he forgot there were other people in the condo. He’s going to have to figure out a way to be quieter.
Aaron sinks his fingers into Jackson’s hair and massages his scalp slowly. “I like your noises,” he says, lips pressed to Jackson’s ear so it’s just for him. “You’re probably trying to think of ways to keep it down, but I don’t want you to. Your brother is just doing what brothers do and being a dick. Ignore him.”
It’s like he’s reading Jackson’s mind. He turns his head so his face is no longer pressed to the counter and kisses what he can just barely reach of Aaron’s wrist. “It’s not too much?”
“Hell no.” Aaron kisses him. The angle is extraordinarily awkward, the both of them leaning over the counter with the edges digging into their stomachs. It’s not a position that allows for much of a deep kiss, but they try their hardest to lose themselves in it.
Jackson doesn’t know if Aaron manages to, but he zones out enough on the kiss that he somehow misses the front door opening. He’s not aware of the extra person in the room until a distinctly feminine-sounding throat clearing breaks the atmosphere. His eyes fly open, and he finds himself staring into equally startled wide brown eyes.
They stumble apart. Jackson’s lips are tingling. He wants to touch them, but he’s got a pretty good idea about who’s standing behind them, so he’s not going to. Aaron’s cheeks are flushed dark, his eyes focused on anything but whoever is right behind Jackson.
“Mom,” he says, going with his suspicions. “What’re you doing?”
“I was thinking I’d be waking everyone up. I can see now that isn’t necessary.”
Jackson can’t bring himself to turn around and look at her. He can’t think of anything to say either.
She clears her throat again. “Right, well. I’m going to go. Please be ready in the next half an hour. We’ve got a helicopter tour of the island, and they’re very strict about times.”
“We’ll be ready, Anna,” says Aaron. Jackson doesn’t know how he isn’t curled into a tiny ball of mortification. When the door clicks shut behind her, Aaron taps his fingers on Jackson’s cheek. “It was just kissing. Nothing to be so embarrassed by.”
“That was my mother.”
“I’m sure she’s seen you kissing someone before. It’s not the end of the world.” He nudges at his shoulder. “Why don’t you go get ready, hmm?”
Realistically he knows his mom knows that he isn’t innocent, by any means. But he’s worked very hard throughout his life to make sure she never sees anything but chaste kisses exchanged between him and his partners. He likes to maintain the illusion, even if it is one that exists only in his own head.
If there’s a niggling voice in the back of his mind that says a lot of his illusions are going to be shattered on this trip, well, he does a damn good job of ignoring it.
THE FIRST time Jackson pokes his head an
d his camera out the side door of the helicopter he talked the tour company into opening (turns out they’re a business that has been used on several of the films Jackson’s worked on), Aaron nearly has a heart attack. His hand flies out before he can think about it, latching on to the back of Jackson’s tank and holding tight. He’s lying flat on his stomach, snapping away while the tour guide yells to be heard over the whir of the helicopter blades.
They’re sharing the copter with James and Bastien, and the latter is starting to look pained the longer the door is left open. He’s clutching the straps holding him in place.
Aaron nudges his toes against Jackson’s side. It takes a minute, Jackson has to finish capturing whatever he’s taking a picture of, but he eventually gives Aaron his attention. His hair is wind tousled, forced out of its perfect gelled arrangement, and his cheeks are red from the wind. His brilliant eyes are squinted, water leaking from the corner. Aaron can’t hear him when he talks, but he can read the “yeah?” on his lips. He curls his fingers up in a come-here gesture and waits for Jackson to push himself up and collapse into the empty seat by his side.
To be heard, he has to press his lips to the shell of Jackson’s ear and raise his voice. “The windows are clean. Take the rest of your pictures through them?”
The look on Jackson’s face can only be described as a pout, but he nods his head and lets the tour guide slam the door shut. The inside of the cabin is eerily silent after all the noise. Aaron’s ears pop. Once the door is shut tight, Aaron unbuckles himself and trades seats with Jackson so that he can be pressed against the window.
“You don’t mind?” asks Jackson.
He shakes his head. He minds looking over Jackson’s shoulder a whole hell of a lot less than he does the open door and rush of wind. At least this way the guide can stop shouting and conserve his voice. Plus, he now has an excuse to snuggle up to Jackson in order to see. Even as involved in his work as he is, Jackson still presses back against him when Aaron leans over him. When Aaron rests a hand on Jackson’s side, he feels his ribs expand in a shaky exhale before he hears the tiny caught sound pass his lips.
