Notes: I love this ‘verse and had tremendous doubts about being able to
write it, so of course I had to try. Huge, HUGE thanks to
![[info]](http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
foxxcub
and
halfdutch
for putting up with my whining and beta’ing this thing a zillion times, and
that was before there was ever even any smut! And an even bigger thanks for
letting me keep the ending. ;)
Set a month after
halfdutch’s
Just
Imagined
"Good game," Jack mumbled as he slid down to sit on the floor, back
against the lockers. He sighed and swiped at his sweaty face with a towel,
trying to catch his breath.
"Lost, Prep," James muttered, yanking off his jersey and toweling down
himself and again, ever since James had been recruited to join the team a
month ago, Jack found himself watching, eyes sliding down James' taut torso,
his stomach tight and chest well-defined, and then quickly looking away as a
haze of memory threatened to make his body embarrass the hell out of him.
"Double elimination," Jack replied. "We win on Sunday we're back in it."
"Better win, then," James said, stripping completely now and eyes meeting
Jack's briefly as he did so and something in them, something Jack still
didn't understand, making Jack ache even harder than the look of James
completely nude, something he still wasn't used to and could never get
enough of. Then the moment was over as they both looked away and James
wrapped a towel around his waist.
It had been a month but it still felt weird, seeing James as a jock. Jack
had been just as surprised as everyone else when James had suddenly joined
the team and as a starter, knocking Jackson back to the bench.
James had grinned at him after that first practice. Just that good,
he'd said by way of explanation. Coach Asshole's in trouble, you know,
after four losing seasons - saw me in that pickup game, said you losers
needed my height and my speed and my jump shot. Did some shady stuff, fixed
my grades and here I am.
And here he was, Jack thought, still having trouble with the idea of James
as suddenly their new star player. Not that he didn't deserve it, he was,
without question, the best on the team. He'd just gotten so used to seeing
James as one thing and now he was seeing a new side of him. And yeah it
still felt weird but, well, good, he thought.
He sighed as he looked down the length of the locker room where the rest of
the team, shoulders slumped and heads hanging, were also stripping and
heading for the showers, bitching about bad calls and bad plays.
"I still can't believe you're here," Jack said, hauling himself to his feet
and pulling his jersey over his head. "Not that I'm complaining."
"What, ex-cons can't play basketball?" James asked, this time his
eyes skimming across Jack's chest and arms before he looked away, flushing
slightly, and Jack felt a moment's relief and satisfaction that he wasn't
the only one who felt weird about the whole thing, and wasn't the only one
who wanted more.
"No," he said, answering James question. "I mean coming on in the middle of
the season, and starting."
"Well, I didn't ask to be a damn jock," James said, scowling and
shaking his head in disgust. "Just did it so I wouldn't have to do any
fucking homework the rest of the school year."
Jack grinned. "Nothing wrong with being a jock," he said, and then again
James' eyes were on him, ghosting over his body quickly and again Jack felt
that thrill run through him that was almost as fierce as the way he'd felt
when James had touched him.
"Nothing wrong with some people being a jock," James said, again
averting his eyes. "I'm still catching shit from your prep buddies, even the
though I'm the reason the assholes have more wins than losses."
Jack pulled up suddenly, feeling a combination of guilt and anger, having
heard the insults and the catcalls and never doing anything about it, never
saying anything, simply leaving when it started or ignoring it completely
and he knew now that the reason he hadn't come to James' defense more often
had much more to do with what they'd done with one another than the fact
that the vicious bullying was wrong.
Jack didn't care anymore if anyone saw him and James as friends. It was his
fear that they might see beyond that that scared the shit out him, that they
might somehow know about what they'd done and worse, that Jack wanted more
of it, all the time, and from James and no one else.
"Listen, James, I . . ." Jack faltered and then his eyes were focused on the
grey tile of the locker room floor.
"Prep," James said, stuffing his suit into his gym bag. "I can take care of
myself. I've done more damage with my elbows in the past month than I
ever have."
Jack was laughing suddenly, remembering that at least four of their
teammates had gotten their noses broken during practice scrimmages.
"I know, but still . . ."
"Don't worry about it," James said, starting to head for the showers and
then he stopped and turned on his heel.
"Long bus ride home," he said, voice low, and this time he didn't bother to
hide the quick look that slid along Jack's body.
"Yeah," Jack said, voice suddenly hoarse with confusion and need, unsure if
this was a promise or an invitation or what. "Three hours."
James nodded. "Lot of those assholes will be asleep before we even hit the
interstate," he said, eyes dark, and then he was gone, off for the showers.
Yeah, they would be, Jack thought and he fell back against the lockers and
sighed, deciding to wait until James was out of the showers before he took
his own.
A month since he'd spent the night at James' house, had tasted him, had come
in his mouth and now touching himself was never enough - his eyes closed and
he pictured James and the way he looked and the noises he made and the way
his mouth had felt on him, shit, and he'd worried, wondering if it
was written all over his face what he had done and what he was thinking but
still trying to find a way, a reason to get James alone, do it all again.
But then his father had somehow found out about all the partying and the
fact that Jack's grades had slipped slightly and he'd been grounded, jailed
was what it felt like, weekends spent at home with his father railing
drunkenly that Jack had to worry about his future while Jack ducked his head
did whatever it took just to get his father to shut the hell up and there'd
been no opportunity since to seek James out.
It had been only in the dark, in his dreams, that they came together, dreams
that left Jack blushing furiously as he snuck down to the laundry room to
shove the sheets into the washer.
And then suddenly James was on the team and they were together every day,
talking even, just about everyday shit, but then sharing covert glances in
the showers that left Jack with face flaming and fighting with all he had to
keep his body under control.
But they had never touched, never talked about what had happened. At times
Jack wondered if they'd gone too far, done too much but then James would
give him that look, their eyes locking briefly and the look in James' eyes
hard and Jack knew he'd been thinking about it, too, about what they'd done
and wanted to do it again.
It always made Jack hard, the thought of it, that James wanted to touch him,
suck him off again, maybe, and he'd had to give up tucking in his shirts. He
never knew when they might collide in the locker room or on the court or in
the hallways and every time they did, both of them locking eyes and then
brushing one another off, Jack's body reacted, uncontrollably sometimes.
He wanted more, he thought. A three-hour bus ride, dark, the rest of team
asleep and James . . .
He stopped himself before he could finish the thought. If it happened, it
happened and he'd worry about the consequences later.
And if it didn't happen . . . well, he'd find a way to make it
happen.
His body wouldn't let him do anything else.
And he refused to let himself think about his heart.
***
Jack shoved past the rest of the team and made his way to his usual seat at
the back of the bus and noted that James had already taken up residence in
the seat opposite him, leaning back with arms crossed and long legs splayed
at opposite angles along the seat bench.
"Long ride back, Prep," he murmured, his eyes darting from Jack to the rest
of the team and back again.
Jack's breath caught and his stomach tightened and then he fell into his
seat and threw his gym bag on the floor of the bus and stared at James for a
long moment. "Yeah," he said finally. "Long ride."
He wasn't sure but he thought James smiled just a bit before the lights went
out and the bus started moving.
***
It hadn't been his intention to fall asleep – in fact it had been the
furthest thing from his mind once they'd hit the road. Considering the
fierceness with which his body was raging and the way that James was staring
at him from across the aisle, eyes black and unreadable in the darkness,
sleep had been the furthest thing from Jack's mind.
But it must have snuck up on him anyway, because he was pulled up from a
fitful and restless sleep by James' mouth hot on his ear and his hand on
Jack's crotch, stroking firmly through denim.
"Wake up," he whispered, and Jack shuddered at the wet, hot swipe of his
tongue along Jack's ear. "Been a while, too long, need it . . ."
Before Jack was even able to open his eyes he was groaning loudly and
thrusting up hard against James' hand. James snorted and clapped his other
hand over Jack's mouth even as he started stroking harder and more quickly.
"Quiet," he hissed and Jack opened his eyes wide in shock and fear and
arousal and watched as James peered over the seat back.
"Okay. They're all still - Jesus!" he muttered as Jack suddenly
pulled him fully on top of him and up tight between Jack's thighs, grabbing
James' ass and kneading in time to his frantic and erratic thrusts up
against him, mouth ghosting along James' own.
"Careful, Prep, I can't . . . God . . ." he moaned, soft and low by
necessity and then he was humping Jack hard, a frenzied grind of crotch
against crotch and Jack's hands were tight in his hair as he moved as much
as he could, fuck he thought, so fucking good and he was
drowning, dizzy, too much but not enough, not after all they'd done and too
damned quiet, he wanted James making those noises and saying his name in
that way that made him hard, made him want to come, and with everything he
had Jack forced himself to stop moving, forced himself to move his hands to
James' hips and make him stop moving, no way in hell was he going to
come in his jeans again, Jack thought, not after all that had happened.
"Stop," he whispered and James stared down at him in shock.
"Stop? Why?" he whispered belligerently, defensive now and already
pulling away and Jack shook his head and wrapped his hands around James'
neck and pulled him close.
"Wait. When we get home, alone, I want . . ." he whispered and trailed off,
not wanting to sound stupid or sappy.
"What? What do you want?" James murmured, relaxing into him now and Jack
sighed in relief.
"To . . . hear you. I want to hear you. Loud. Saying my name," Jack said and
then closed his eyes against any ridicule that might flare in James' eyes.
James was quiet for a long while and Jack kept his eyes closed, body
trembling as he waited, then suddenly he was being kissed, a hard, forceful
thrust of tongue into his mouth, teeth clashing with his as it felt like
James was trying to devour him, and he was just beginning to respond when
James pulled away.
"Right. Later, then," he whispered and then he was gone, back across the
aisle to his own seat and they stared at one another, and Jack felt as if he
were making promises and James was making promises of his own, and then
finally Jack closed his eyes, trying to get his body under control before
they pulled into the parking lot of the high school.
***
He must have fallen asleep again because suddenly the lights were bright and
the rest of team was quickly filing off the bus, out to waiting parents or
their own cars, and he blinked in surprise and noticed that James was
already gone.
He grabbed his bag and stood, making his way down the aisle and down the
steps and saw James ambling slowly to the city bus stop, and he heard the
sniggering behind him over the fact that their star player had to take the
bus home and again he felt the anger and the guilt and he watched James go,
warring with himself about saying something, anything.
But then James casually flipped them all off over his shoulder, not
bothering to look back, and Jack found himself grinning.
"Ford!" he yelled. "Need a ride?"
James stopped and turned and stared for a moment and Jack wondered if he'd
done the right thing. One thing he'd learned was that James didn't want
sympathy or pity, and Jack hoped like hell he took the offer for a ride for
what it was, a half-assed attempt to do the right thing.
"Sure," James said finally and Jack released the breath he hadn't realized
he was holding. "Thanks, Shephard." He began walking slowly in the direction
of Jack's car.
"No problem," Jack said, and started digging for his car keys.
"You're giving Ford a ride?" Jackson said, snickering. "Is he like
your boyfriend or something?"
Jack was surprised at how little the remark bothered him and continued
looking for his keys. "I gave you a ride last week, Jackson. Are
you like my boyfriend or something? Or maybe you just wanna be? Because
you know, if so, I'm sorry to tell you, you really, really aren't my
type."
Suddenly the sneering and sniggering changed direction and Jackson flushed
under the barrage of insults. "He's trash, Shephard," Jackson hissed,
trying hard to climb out of the hole he suddenly found himself in.
"Well, if anyone would know about trash, Jackson, it'd be you," Jack said, a
none too subtle reference to the fact that Jackson's father was head of the
Department of Sanitation and something he generally suffered greatly for,
and Jack grinned and punched Jackson hard on the shoulder as he shoved past
him and made his way to his car where James lounged against the passenger
door, waiting.
"Not your type?" James asked loudly. "You sure about that, Shephard?"
Jack looked back at Jackson, short, black-haired and running to fat despite
practice two hours a day and Jack grinned. "Nah," he said. "I like blondes."
Jackson spluttered and the cat calls continued as Jack unlocked the driver's
side door and hit the automatic lock and he stuck the keys in the ignition
as James climbed inside and suddenly the car smelled of him, of James, and
he again was fighting against memory to keep his body under control.
"Good one," James said, tossing his bag into the backseat.
"Yeah, well," Jack said, shrugging and starting the car and reaching down to
turn down the volume when U2 began blaring from the speakers.
"Won't change anything," James said, staring out the window. "But thanks,
anyway."
Jack stared at him for a moment, trying to deal with a completely unfamiliar
and confusing feeling of sadness.
"Yeah," he said finally, sighing and putting the car into gear.
***
They'd ridden in tense silence, tense at least for Jack, conversation that
had become easy for them over the past month having apparently deserted
them, and it wasn't until Jack had turned on to the desolate stretch of road
leading to James' house that James moved, so fast that Jack had no time to
react, leaning over the console and making quick work of Jack's button fly
jeans and then suddenly his cock was in James’ mouth.
"Fuck!" he muttered, hips bucking up helplessly as he almost ran off
the road, and he could feel James laughing, as much as he could anyway with
Jack's cock in his mouth and then he was sucking in earnest, a firm, wet
pull that had Jack seeing stars.
"God," Jack mumbled, searching desperately for a spot to pull over. "God,
God, God, God . . ."
Finally he saw a dirt road, an entrance to an abandoned oil site, and he
pulled in and hit the brakes so hard that he accidentally forced his cock
even deeper into James' mouth, and he found himself laughing breathlessly at
James' muffled noise of complaint.
"Sorry," he whispered, although he wasn't, the feel of his cock deep in
James' throat had been amazing, and James raised his head to look at him,
eyes dark as he smiled slightly, stroking him now with his hand, slowly and
firmly and Jack groaned, God, he thought, more, he wanted more.
"You gonna make me do all the work?" James whispered and then Jack moved,
clambering over the console and cursing as he banged the shit out of his
knee and then he was shoving James' seat back and reclining it as far as it
would go and going immediately for the fly of his jeans and then James was
laughing.
"What?" Jack asked, scowling and cursing and struggling with buttons.
"We're both way too tall to be doing this in a damn car - shit!" he
hissed as Jack's hand finally closed around him, and Jack grinned and shoved
himself up tight against James as he jerked him, watching his face and
feeling his breath speed up, matching Jack's own.
"We'll make it work," he whispered and then again James was kissing him,
hard and demanding and different, hungry, Jack thought, as his entire body
tensed and he kissed him back, tasting him again, finally, and the movement
of his hand sped up as James' again grabbed his cock, jerking him hard and
he groaned against James's mouth, Jesus, he'd never thought anything
could feel this good and then to Jack's confusion he was pushing Jack away.
"What?" Jack asked, and then impulsively swiped his tongue along James'
mouth and James gasped slightly and shifted underneath him.
"Lift up," James whispered, and Jack did so, still confused, and then James'
hands, large and warm, had a firm grasp around both their cocks, sensitive
skin against sensitive skin and surrounded by the roughness of James' hands
and Jack's head fell forward on James' shoulder.
"God," he whispered, looking down through a red-fevered haze of need
at their cocks tight against one another in James' firm grip, and helplessly
he bucked up hard at the sight of it, the feel of it as he moved so fucking
good he though, and his entire body was on fire and he did it again,
harder, gasping at the intensity of it and James groaned, loud and hot
against Jack's neck.
"Fuck, yeah, move," James ordered and Jack did, fast, hard thrusts of
his hips and he found his eyes closing, shit, he thought, hips
pumping, so damn good and James was gasping, arching up against him.
"God, James," Jack panted, grunting and moving faster as he felt it
building, threatening to overcome him and then James was moaning and cursing
and saying Jack's name, making those noises of need, better even than Jack
remembered, and James was writhing underneath him and it was crazy, Jack
thought hazily, the way all this could make him feel.
"Fuck, Jack, Christ, so good, don't stop," James muttered, and Jack
shuddered, feeling as if his entire body were on the verge of exploding and
he looked at James, head back and eyes closed and moving in time to Jack's
thrusts and it suddenly occurred to him that it felt like he was fucking
James, and the thought terrified him but it thrilled him even more and he
captured James' mouth, tongue delving and searching and tangling wetly with
James', and then his movements were frenzied, frantic, so close to coming
and he groaned, the sound muffled by James' mouth and James' echoed it, a
low, rough noise that slammed through Jack like touch and then he was lost,
blinded, coming hard and shooting off over James' hands and belly where his
t-shirt had ridden up and James groaned again, Jack's name, and then came as
well, jerking up against Jack, hot and wet against Jack's now too-sensitive
cock and Jack winced and pulled back slightly, breathless and sweaty and
rested his head against James' forehead as he closed his eyes and tried to
bring his shattered body back together again.
"Told you we'd make it work," he whispered finally and opened his eyes to
find James staring at him.
"Sure as hell did," James said, grinning suddenly, and again Jack found
himself laughing and then for some reason he was reaching down, swiping one
finger slowly through the come on James' belly, feeling him flinch as he did
so and then James had a hard grip on his wrist and brought Jack's hand up to
his mouth and stopped for a moment, staring at Jack with heavy-lidded eyes,
and then to Jack's amazement his tongue darted out and he licked the come
off Jack's finger, long, hot wet swipes of his tongue and then he drew
Jack's finger into his mouth, sucking hard and then teasing with the soft
play of his tongue and then nipping sharply.
"Jesus," Jack hissed, staring and shocked to find himself getting
hard again.
James let go of Jack's finger and rested his head back. "Good," he murmured,
shoving up against Jack again, hard again himself and then Jack moved, hand
smearing in the come on James' belly and then grasping James' cock,
stroking, hand wet with come and James cursed, thrust up into his hand and
then he was doing the same, come-slick hand tightening around Jack's cock
and jerking roughly.
"Fuck," Jack groaned, amazed that the surge of need could come
roaring back so roughly after what had just happened but there it was, and
somehow he managed to roll so that James was on top and he slid his hand
into James' hair and tugged him close, kissing him again and this time
tasting James and himself and the entirely new taste of the two of them
combined and again his body raged, and he jerked James hard as he continued
to kiss him, movement of hand and lips and teeth and tongue becoming more
and more rough as James stroked him hard and thrust into his hand and then
they were both scrabbling, moving, parting long enough to rid one another of
their shirts and then colliding again, sweat-slick skin against skin and
both riding a long, hard wave of desire and then they both were lost, taste
and touch and scent and sound, hoarse cries of need and loud groans of
pleasure and it happened just as quickly this time as they both fell over
the edge, first one and then the other.
***
James collapsed atop him, straddling one of Jack's thighs and resting his
head on Jack's shoulder, his face buried in Jack's neck and without really
thinking about it Jack started threading his fingers through James' hair.
James yawned widely and then sighed deeply in appreciation and relaxed
against Jack heavily.
"You gonna take me home?" he mumbled. "Because if you don't I'm gonna fall
asleep right here. Especially if you keep doing that."
"Yeah," Jack said, yawning himself and fighting a losing battle with the
bone-deep exhaustion he was feeling. "Just give me a minute."
"Right," James murmured, and immediately he was asleep, breathing deeply,
his chest rising and falling against Jack's, and Jack started to make a
half-hearted move to wake him but then he decided to wait, to let him rest,
just for a second, and as he listened to the rhythm of James' breath Jack's
eyes slowly closed and sleep overtook him, as well.
***
End
