Liberation
by hija_paloma and Webcrowmancer

* * * *

All right, he swiftly admitted in the silence of his own mind, it was more than interest. But still, it made no sense. Even after a couple of pints.

There was something entirely too easy about this: warm lager, the sight of Johnny's tongue-tip absently licking away a touch of foam from his upper lip. And when had he shaved? Oh, right. The awards ceremony...and here he was a bare two weeks later, with Jack in this pub, to collect the award he had won.

Jack blinked, and took another swallow from his glass, realizing the award was in the bag on the seat beside him. He should just hand it to Johnny and...

And leave. But he didn't want to. And Johnny was here to stay for the duration of the deliberations over production of the film, after all. Before they began shooting.

He drew a breath, and heard Johnny's voice directed at him, the low, smooth, velvet tones reaching him effortlessly beneath the overall noise of the pub, and quickly looked up to meet those dark, dark eyes.

"Are you okay?" Slight amusement and honest concern.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, quickly, wondering when he'd turned into a stammering idiot who couldn't think of what to say, or how to say it. Damn it, he was never this way with Johnny before. Throughout months of filming and hanging out on ships and in exotic locations. Hotels and bars, and- and yachts.

Jack cleared his throat. And tried again. "Well, congratulations. For, you know, the nomination. And the S.A.G...." He helpfully trailed off, realizing at the last instant that making small talk of any kind right now would not only be a disastrous failure, but that it felt too intimate, it felt too right to be anything but wrong, for it to be just the two of them here. And it was still too public; what if someone passing by happened to recognize the 'famous actor'?

Still, Johnny had dressed overly casual, as usual, as was an unfortunate necessity.

But Johnny was smiling that little self-effacing smile, the one that said 'aw shucks I'm no-one of any importance' and replied, "Yeah, man, that really shocked me. I couldn't believe it. Don't get me wrong," he hastily added, "that was very, very cool. But, yeah. It was - so unexpected really."

Slowly, firmly, Jack met his eyes. "Yes, well, you deserve it." And he tried to ignore the sudden rush of heat that flooded his insides, meeting Johnny's calm gaze. It was hardly a surprise, considering Johnny's undeniable attractiveness, but he'd never really had a problem about finding either men or women desirable, and Jack was abruptly dismayed to realize that he did have a problem now. This was unlooked for, unwanted, and completely startling. Of course Johnny had this reaction from just about everyone he met, certainly. And he thought he'd managed to escape it, himself...

Jack smiled wryly, and lifted his glass to drain it, in a bit of a toast, just to acknowledge the absurdity of succumbing to the unconscious, unknowing charms of renowned beauty, which was hounded the world-over by celebrity-seekers and the press.

Damn. To make matters worse, he could feel his face flushing.

***

Johnny had always prided himself on being good at people. The trick, he thought, was to watch them. All the time. The more you watched someone, the easier it was to see when they weren't acting right. Easy to tell when they were lying or lonely or falling in love. Easy to tell when they were afraid.

Jack was jumpier than Johnny could've imagined him before tonight. He was normally very composed; even Orlando's antics on the Pirates set had never unsettled him for more than a beat. Tonight, though, Jack was fidgeting. His hands danced across the top of the bar, searching for something solid to anchor him, finding only the glass in front of him. Finding it maybe a few too many times in rapid succession.

The only thing more restless than Jack's hands tonight were his eyes. He glanced around the room as though he were expecting an attack, and wasn't sure from which direction it would come. From time to time, his eyes would land heavily on Johnny, and rest until Johnny felt like he might understand, always darting off again two heartbeats too soon for epiphany.

"Jack?" The look the other man gave him was a bastard blend of stark terror and ...guilt? "Are you sure you're alright, man?" Johnny asked again, reaching out to touch Jack's shoulder. He saw the miniscule flinch, hard as Jack must've been trying to suppress it, and froze just short of physical contact. He paused for a moment with his hand hovering over the curve of Jack's body, as though he were trying to read his aura, and felt the frown flicker across his face. "Something I said?"

Jack shook his head, though the tension drained visibly from his posture as Johnny drew back his hand. "I'm fine, really, it's just... this place, bit weird, you know, seeing you again. Guess I hadn't realized how much I'd missed you until now." Jack smiled, but it was a far cry from his usual sweet, easy expression. Instead, it looked like a face he kept forgetting to make.

Johnny returned the smile anyway, if only to try to force that odd, frightened tension from Jack's face. "It is a bit weird, isn't it. Come on, let's go somewhere else. Where are you staying?" He stood, dragging Jack's eyes up with him, and Jack started as though he'd been sleeping.

"Oh! Your award... I've got to..." Jack looked so completely confused, so lost, that Johnny couldn't help but laugh.

"It's alright, Jack, we can bring it along, yeah?" He was immensely gratified to finally see the tension starting to bleed away from Jack.

"Of course; right." This time, the smile was genuine, and he didn't pull away when Johnny draped an arm over his shoulders and steered him toward the door.

"Come on; my hotel's just up the street."

Outside, Johnny began fishing about in his pocket and eventually retrieved a previously rolled cigarette. Jack considered him and realized he really, really wanted one himself. Getting out his lighter, he offered the flame to Johnny, who murmured his thanks.

Lighting up a fag for himself now, Jack was grateful for the chance to simply walk.

And tried to suppress the frisson he felt, at knowing that he was accompanying Johnny back to his hotel-room.

He kept pace with Johnny, walking beside him along the dark, shiny-wet street, in the direction of Johnny's hotel, which wasn't far. Somehow it felt less sordid than taking Johnny home with him. Then he nearly rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of that thought; as if there was anything to imagine feeling sordid about without reading anything into this. Which he couldn't. Or shouldn't.

Jack took another drag, then shoved his left hand in the pocket of his leather jacket and hugged it closer to himself in the cold air, wondering if the lateness of the hour was also taking its toll on his composure along with the two drinks he'd had. Johnny had only had the one pint, as Jack had already finished off his first drink while waiting for Johnny to arrive earlier in the evening.

But the cold air was bracing and helped to bring him back down to earth a little. Not to mention give him some relief from the heat he still felt lurking in his face.

Silly. It was silly, to imagine that there was even the slightest reason to worry about what it meant, this...attraction he'd abruptly found himself mulling over, seeing as there was no hope in hell of ever achieving anything. With him. Get a grip, man, he thought sternly to himself.

They stopped outside the hotel entrance, to finish their cigarettes, and Johnny asked, "Want to come up? Where are you staying?"

"Actually, I live not too far from here," Jack admitted.

Johnny looked over at him quickly, as if slightly taken aback. He even blinked at Jack, who wondered why he was suddenly getting cold feet about going up. But Jack knew what Johnny didn't; his composure was brittle tonight and he really didn't feel like tempting fate. He liked Johnny; it just wouldn't do to suddenly go all 'groupie' on him...but Johnny was speaking and he had nearly missed it, from staring back into Johnny's eyes.

Johnny had such dark eyes, behind those glasses. Looking so young, and innocuous.

"...was under the impression you'd have to take a cab back, though, yeah?"

Jack dragged hard on the smoke. Suave. Cool. He could do this. Sure. Casually watching the cars pass on the street. "Well, yes. But I could just take the tube back to Victoria Station."

Johnny tilted his head back a little at this, and his eyes narrowed, as if taking Jack's measure again. With a slight hint of a smile playing around his mouth, he said, "Are you sure that's wise? I mean, it's late. And we're freezing our asses off out here. Come on up, have a cup of tea with me, and I'll call you a cab when you leave."

Jack gave a nonchalant shrug and attempted a flash of his usual smile. "Alright." He dropped the stub to the pavement and ground it out with his heel.

In the foyer of the hotel, the wave of heat from the hotel's interior helped take the cold from him, but his jacket was leather and he was already starting to feel clammy under it. By the time he and Johnny got up to the room...both of them, up in his room, together, alone...he'd be sweating.

Oblivious, Johnny led the way to the lift, saying, "We're all the way up on the eleventh floor."

Oh God, Jack thought. Eleven floors up...in a lift. With him.

But it was too late; the door had chimed and opened. He drew a breath.

As he followed Johnny into the elevator, Johnny leaned over, too close to Jack's right, to press the button for the 11th floor, and Jack could feel the chill emanating from his skin, he was so close. He could smell the cigarette smoke on Johnny's breath, and see how reddened his lips were from the cold outside.

He swallowed in a throat gone dry, and shifted the bag nervously.

Elevators, he thought. Hard enough to look at anyone in them to begin with.

As they began to ascend, Jack's stomach dropped, only it was compounded by the fact that even despite Johnny's thick, brown suede jacket and jeans, the woolly hat, and the glasses, he looked as sexy as he'd ever appeared previously, at premieres or off the set. Jack licked his lips, wondering why his mind had gone so completely blank.

The silence that lay between them suddenly grew charged, and Jack abruptly wondered if he should try to say something. Anything.

Johnny's low, even voice drawled carefully, "I'm always tempted to sing, 'It's A Small World After All'."

Jack snickered, letting out a chuff of laughter. "Right. Then there's always 'Oh, not again. Damn motion sickness'."

Johnny grinned.

The silence didn't seem so loaded, now.

3rd floor...

"So, how's Vanessa? And Jack?" Jack asked, wondering about Johnny's son, and his...girlfriend. Yes. Just wondering.

"They're good, yeah. Doing really well," Johnny said, looking straight ahead at the door.

"And Lily-Rose?" Jack asked, feeling like he was repeating himself.

4th floor...

"You asked me that before," Johnny pointed out, with a little smile. "But yeah, she's great."

"Oh, right, I did, didn't I," Jack said, feeling incredibly stupid and gauche. His leather jacket felt heavy and confining. And he was starting to sweat in it, just as he'd feared.

5th floor...

With a sharp, knowing look, Johnny observed, quietly, "How's Michelle?"

The tone of his seemingly innocent question made Jack dart a returning glance at him, and he almost reminded Johnny he'd already asked him that earlier himself. And then he realized what Johnny was really asking.

He opened his mouth to reply, and realized he had absolutely no idea what to say. Or how to say it. "She- she's fine," he blurted out, feeling caught.

His cheeks were burning and all he could think of was how incredibly edible Johnny's neck looked. He wanted to nuzzle it, to lick him there, to bite him...

6th floor...

But Johnny's dark eyes held his, and he wasn't looking away.

Jack stared back at him, paralyzed in place, and thought, how did it come to this?

He had to look away before the moment stretched into one of 'those'. The ones that transformed a perfectly manly, comradely, acceptable shared look into one filled with innuendo, questions, invitation and terror. Not to mention one that was blatantly queer.

He respected this man, as an actor, a damn fine one. But he'd never imagined he would succumb to Johnny's charisma, his effortless sensuality. He didn't have a problem with men, he simply preferred women. Michelle. Michelle was lovely, Michelle was -

Michelle. She was as open-minded as he was, about people, and people's needs, desires. This wasn't about behaving like a groupie, or one of the famous star's fans of the 'sexiest man alive', or the celebrity hounds who just wanted a piece of him. It was about making the mistake of ruining a friendship with a fellow co-star and sometime-acquaintance, who'd actually said on numerous occasions that he thought Jack was 'a really great find'. He took a sharp breath and glanced at the red panel, which turned into a 7 as he looked at it.

Four more floors. Wonderful. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Beside him, Johnny looked down, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

Busted, Jack thought, depressively. I'm busted.

And an unexpected little ache arrived somewhere in the middle of his chest.

What was I thinking? Stupid; stupid.

His heartbeat, though, was pounding in his ears. He felt awkward; fifteen years old again, still sorting out whether or not he fancied girls or boys, and trying to come to terms with the fact that it didn't make the slightest difference to him at all. Girls, definitely. Boys, he could talk to. Girls had been a mystery. Not for long, certainly.

He'd grown up in a household filled with known names, famous actors, big stars coming and going. With two parents in show business, he'd grown up around them so Jack had no illusions about the mystique of celebrities. But Johnny had a mystique all his own. It practically oozed off of him, without any effort on Johnny's part, and seemingly unconsciously too.

But he'd been able to handle it before. He'd even made jokes about it. Mr. Caribbean Sex. It had been different though, seeing him dressed up like a pirate. It hadn't even been Johnny, back then. It had been the film itself, and the Jack Sparrow role.

As much as Jack had found it amusing, and had admired Johnny's performance, this was different. This was now, and here, and Johnny was probably thinking that he was trying not to hit on him, even now.

He deliberately tried not to allow himself to glance at the other man. For God's sake, Johnny was Johnny, and didn't need him acting like a moron around him. He had to pull himself together. Tea. Tea was an excellent idea.

8 floors...

Damn it. He'd thought a couple of pints would relax him. They'd only helped to surface the very thing he'd felt from the moment he'd laid eyes on Johnny in that pub, approaching his table. And to make matters worse, they had made him less able to disguise his response.

Why was it different now, between them? In an embarrassed tone, despite his attempt to sound nonchalant, he remarked, "Would the weather be too dangerous a subject, do you think?"

***

Johnny's skin was crawling under the weight of Jack's stare. He resisted - barely - the urge to rub at his neck. Jack was busted, but Johnny didn't want him to know it yet.

"In my - humble - experience," he said with a wry smile, "people tend to talk about the weather when they're trying not to talk about something else."

Jack grunted, but didn't look up at him. Telling.

"What aren't we talking about, Jack?"

Jack cleared his throat nervously and finally turned to look at Johnny. There was a desperate plea in his eyes that made Johnny feel like the world's biggest ass. He relented, letting Jack off the hook. For now.

Ninth floor.

"Bleak. Very bleak," Johnny ventured, coaxing a faint smile from Jack with his impersonation. "Probably snow tonight."

"Ah, well, then. Good thing I'm not walking home."

The smart thing, the decent thing would be to leave it alone. To let it go, to change the subject. But of course, he couldn't.

"You could always spend the night," he offered. It wasn't a test. Alright, he did want to know how Jack would respond, but he'd meant the offer genuinely.

Jack merely snorted and said, "Oh yes. The tabloids would just adore that. Front page on The Sunday Mirror, I'd wager. The Sun would probably run a special double issue."

Johnny chuckled appreciatively. He'd missed Jack's dry, snarky sense of humor. And then he realized he hadn't said so, before.

"Jack." He'd gone too long without seeing that smile, sweet and apologetic, as though Jack were perpetually sorry for being amused. "I missed you, too, man."

The elevator marked the tenth floor with an electronic "tsk" as the display changed. In the sudden awkward silence, it sounded like cannon fire.

Jack opened his mouth and paused for a beat. Finally, he found the word he was looking for. "Johnny..."

"No, really, don't. It's okay. I was just giving you shit, that's all." He didn't know why he felt the need to forestall Jack's explanation, but it was definitely there, and as strong as any compulsion he'd ever known. In some irrational part of his mind, Johnny thought that letting Jack explain away the awkwardness, the tension in the air, would damage something fragile between them.

Jack coughed and looked at the red 10 above the door. Johnny looked at Jack. It was only fair, after all. Jack had been staring at him all night.

Just as Johnny had decided that he was trapped on what was, in all likelihood, the slowest elevator in the history of mankind, it slid to a stop, a soft electronic chime rang from the speaker overhead, and the doors slid open.

"Well. Here we are," he said, and led Jack off the elevator and down the hall to his room. As he fumbled with the proper timing of inserting and removing the key card, and turning the handle to get in, he felt a brushing, almost imagined touch at his elbow.

Johnny abandoned the key card in the lock, turning toward Jack with some curiosity. Jack was a friendly man, but not nearly so open with his physical affections as Orlando. When he did reach out, Johnny was careful to give the situation the attention it deserved.

"Really, Johnny. I'm sorry, about before. At the pub. It wasn't you, I just - I was having a bit of a flashback, I suppose. Seeing you looking so - so not Sparrow, it was sort of a shock."

Johnny felt like he finally understood where this tension was coming from, this superficial distance that was keeping Jack away from him despite the pull underneath. "Not who you were expecting to see, right? I always forget - everyone's life goes on even after we part ways. It's a little sad, really."

Jack smiled again, that rueful curve of his lips, and nodded. "It's exactly that. Made me feel like I've been living in the past since we wrapped. But it really is good to see you again."

There was nothing else to say, then, and they understood each other at last. Johnny pulled Jack to him for a hug, and to his credit, Jack hardly startled at all. To his credit, Johnny pretended not to notice the soft rub of Jack's nose along his neck, under his jawline. But he filed it away for later reference.

Carefully, they pulled away from each other without making eye contact, and Johnny turned back to the door. Finally, the catch gave.

"Victory," he declared, winking at Jack, and they stepped out of the hall into the cool dark of the room.

As he sliced up the lemon, Johnny couldn't help but notice Jack staring at his hands. Distracted, he fumbled, and nicked his finger with the knife. The sharp sting of citric acid brought him out of his tangled thoughts. Johnny cursed softly and lifted his hand to his mouth, sucking carefully at the cut to clean it of the caustic juice.

As he did so, he looked up into Jack's eyes. Busted. Jack's gaze was fixed on Johnny's lips, wrapped around his injured finger. His mouth was slightly agape, and he was unconsciously patting the corners of his lips with his tongue.

Johnny grinned. "See anything you like?"

Jack started as though he'd thought he was alone in the room. "I... that looked like it must've hurt."

"Don't suppose I could talk you into a kiss to make it better?" His answer was a delightfully satisfying blush and a hastily averted gaze.

Johnny slipped a couple of lemon slices onto each saucer and handed Jack a cup. Jack took it eagerly, as though grateful to have something to do with his hands, something to focus on other than Johnny.

Johnny sipped carefully at his own tea. The steam rising from the cup clung to his still-cold glasses, obscuring the lenses. "How is it? Ok?"

"Mm. Yes, good." Jack's voice was taut and restrained.

Johnny looked up at him. Through the misty lenses, the dark blur could've been anyone. But it wasn't. Anyone. It was Jack, and even through the clearing fog, Johnny could tell Jack was staring at him again.

He removed his glasses, setting them aside on an end table. "You'd think, after all this time, I'd remember to take the stupid things off." He smiled warmly, invitingly at Jack. Time to play his hand. "Besides, some things, I don't need them to see."

Jack blushed - again - and hastily gulped his tea. He dropped the cup back into the saucer with a clatter, coughing and wincing.

"Jesus, man, are you ok?" Johnny set his own tea down and moved to stand beside him.

"Yeah, I'm alright. I always - always - burn myself. Can never wait for it to cool enough to drink."

Johnny winced. "Ouch. Would've thought you'd be better at this, being British and all."

Jack chuckled at his own incompetence. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? It's not the pain that bothers me, so much. It's just that my tongue feels all fuzzy for two days after. It's like I've suddenly grown moss in the back of my throat."

Only one cure for that, Johnny thought, and far be it for him to refuse just because Jack had been so stingy when he'd cut his finger.

"Want me to kiss it better?"

* * *

Jack stood in mystification, staring back at Johnny. It wasn't possible. He couldn't have said that. But the words were still ringing in his disbelieving ears. What did one say to that, anyway? Yes? No? Yes, please? What took you so long? Are you sure you want to?

He stammered, "Johnny, I-mmmph-" Johnny's mouth was abruptly on his: warmth and lips and tea.

When Johnny's hand came up to steal around the back of his head, Jack realized he wasn't hallucinating, and he returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Jack's heart thumped in his chest as Johnny didn't seem inclined to pull away, and both of them appeared to be sliding very quickly into that hazy place where kisses go on and on, and things lead from one moment to the next in hot, melting, irresistible desire.

As Johnny finally pulled back, Jack struggled to open his eyes, only to find those deep, dark eyes staring back into his with a curious mingling of amusement and concern.

"Did I read you wrong?" Johnny asked.

"N-No, not at all," Jack said quickly, then wondered when it was that 'suave' had somehow transformed into 'awkward' and 'all-too-eager'. He grinned. "I really, really didn't think that you'd, well, that you'd be interested," he said, slowly.

"I could say the same about you," Johnny pointed out, with a smirk. "You do realize, don't you, that you've spent most of tonight staring at me?"

Jack felt his face redden. "Ah," he said, expressively. "And there I was, thinking I'd gotten off scot-free." He flicked a glance back at Johnny and saw he was smiling back at him. Wryly, he continued, "So I'm busted, then?"

Johnny gave a laugh and reached out to touch his elbow. "Yeah, but don't stress out about it, okay? Don't worry about it. Hey, why don't we move this to a better location? Over there?" He motioned with his chin in the direction of the settee, across the spacious room. "Let the tea cool and we can...you know, whatever."

Lifting the hot cup of tea, Jack murmured, "Yes, 'whatever'. Excellent idea." He ventured across the hotel-room, wondering at the fact that, despite his pounding heart and flushed state, not to mention partial erection - which, it had to be said, had actually been present for most of the evening - Jack could feel a sense of shared amusement at the situation.

Removing his jacket, he regarded his shirt. It was one of his favorites; forest-green, the one everyone always told him brought out his eyes, and it was sweat-damp under both arms. He sighed to himself, wondering if it even mattered. He sat down and waited for Johnny. That kiss, he thought to himself, was very revealing. Johnny hadn't meant it to tease. If anything, it was a come-on. It was permission. But for how far?

Johnny turned on the lamp by the left side of them, and came to join him on the settee, and Jack noticed that the tension had drained out of him completely, even with Johnny sitting so close to him.

Jack looked up and saw that Johnny was watching him. The sensation of feeling caught returned with all the finesse and delicacy of a sledgehammer, striking lust and panic deep in his gut.

He swallowed, and asked in a voice that made even him cringe to hear it, "So, you're...okay with this, then?"

Johnny blinked at him, with the expression of a sphinx. "Wow. You're really tense, here, aren't you? Jack, man, we've got to do something to loosen you up."

Clearing his throat, Jack answered, "Well, it's not every day that I get invited up to - to..." He trailed off, not even sure how to describe what this was.

Johnny's raised brows indicated some residual amusement at what they were getting into. "To have a cup of tea?"

Quickly, Jack marshaled what was left of his senses. "I really wasn't planning on this, I swear."

Johnny giggled in that little endearing way of his and shook his head. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were new at this."

Jack's eyebrows lifted of their own volition. "You would, would you? Well, Mister Depp, I'll have to see what I can do to prove myself in the 'snogging' department." He sat up straighter and decided he was up to the challenge, regardless of the fact that he really wasn't all that well-versed in seducing men, really.

"Only snogging, huh?" Chuckling a little under his breath, Johnny gave a bit of a nod. "And there I was, thinking you were interested in shagging me as well."

"I wouldn't presume," Jack replied, showing his teeth in a meaningful grin. "It's just that I prefer women to blokes. You're an exception. An exceptional exception," he added quickly, hoping he hadn't somehow just cancelled himself out with his statement.

"Me, too," Johnny admitted, a note of seriousness creeping into his voice now, as well as uncertainty. "I mean, about preferring women. Mostly. Usually." Johnny leaned forward to pick up his cup of tea, and took a careful sip of it, perched on the edge of the settee now.

Jack felt clumsy and foolish; he wondered if he'd lost his window of opportunity. But it was up to Johnny, here; he'd already sussed that Jack wanted him; it was up to Johnny to decide whether or not anything would - happen.

But it was hard to breathe, let alone speak or think or know how to act, what with Johnny sitting so close to him, and that brief taste of Johnny's mouth lingering along with the burn that had scalded him - all heat and cigarettes and tea and desire. Dryly, Jack considered the irony - perhaps like with hot tea, he'd end up seizing hold of the fire that was temptingly sitting beside him and scald himself in the same manner...

One night, just one night like this, with him...It would be enough, he firmly told himself. It would have to be. It didn't even really matter that it was only this one night, because there would surely be others, other nights, other...lovers. But this was special. He wanted it to be special. And he still wasn't sure if Johnny was expecting him to jump him or not. It wasn't like he was a groupie; he didn't have expectations of this turning into some kind of heartbreak. This affair. And suddenly he wondered if he was fooling himself.

Without looking at him, and still cradling the tea in both hands, Johnny slowly observed, "You know, Jack...It's been a little while for me, too. I'm sure the press would be really disappointed at how much tamer I've become. How settled things have grown, for me... over time. I'm not exactly the wild rebel anymore, you know? Well, not so much, anyway."

Jack laughed silently, unable to help himself. "That is so much shite and you know it."

Johnny lifted a brow at him, turning his head to glare at him askance, but he cracked a grin also. "Hey," he protested, "I'm usually in bed by ten. My days of sleeping in and partying all night long are over. Long gone. I'm getting old, you know."

Jack shook his head, still chuckling. "Absolute bollocks."

"It's true," Johnny persisted, with a wounded tone. "It's also true, what they say; I don't feel forty, you know?"

Jack sat forward to pick up his own hot cup, gingerly. "I do, actually. I mean, I'm not forty, but I can relate. Right now, I think I feel about sixteen."

Johnny brought his tea to his lips and sipped. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm willing to make an exception in your case."

"That sort of begs the question," Jack began, feeling the unwelcome return of that awkward nervousness mixed with hope.

"Haven't given it up to anyone in a while." Johnny gave him a glance. Another meaningfully hot, searing glance that cauterized what was left of Jack's sensibilities. "I don't, usually. Sometimes, though, it's - sort of one of those things, you know? Sometimes you just need to... find someone you trust enough to really let go with."

Jack considered this, as well as what he thought Johnny was really saying. And the fact that when Johnny put his cup back on the coaster on the table, his fingers were trembling a little. It all combined to form the undeniable impression that Johnny was not only willing, but actually considering him, him...

He wants me, Jack thought. More than that, he wants me to want him. And the recognition of it must have transmitted itself in his gaze for as he looked up to meet Johnny's eyes, they widened perceptibly and Johnny licked his lips, once.

Jack put his tea down and reached over, to take Johnny's hand in both of his, enjoying the simplicity of holding the slighter smaller man's hand, noting the elegant fingers, the astonishing delicacy of them that would suit any woman's. He looked up and saw Johnny watching him with that knowing look, the one that said he was reading Jack.

Jack murmured, "You can trust me. What do you want?"

Johnny gave a slight smile, the self-effacing one. "I thought we were kind of wanting the same thing."

Jack leaned towards him to place his face near Johnny's, pressing their cheeks close together, and whispered in his right ear, "I want you, here and now, tonight. Just like this. No strings, no pressure. No problems. Just...you and me." A slight shudder rippled through Johnny sitting beside him, and Jack felt it, as he pulled Johnny closer into him, not relinquishing his hand, and added, "You can let go with me."

He felt the surrender in the way Johnny leaned back against him, into him, and he brought up one hand to steady himself by holding onto Johnny's shoulder while scooting closer, nuzzling along the slender column of Johnny's throat. Enjoying the shiver that ran through Johnny along with the accompanying stifled gasp, Jack mouthed the tender skin there, and murmured against his neck, with accompanying swipes of the tip of his tongue, "You can trust me. You can let go; I'll catch you. Don't worry."

"Jesus, man, just-" Johnny gasped, then he pulled away a little. "If we don't move this in there, we're gonna end up - like a couple of teenagers... making out right here on the couch."

"So?" Jack asked, simply, and used his superior weight advantage and the elements of surprise and audacity to inexorably push Johnny backwards, until he was lying atop him on the ample settee. He attached his mouth on Johnny's neck now and sucked, thrilling at the way that Johnny's hips bucked up against him almost as if involuntarily, and he felt the answering hardness of Johnny's erection under his jeans, rubbing against his crotch.

The maddening sensation of still being clothed and wishing they were naked was driving Jack barmy; he wanted to feel skin against skin. Kissing the tender flesh just beneath Johnny's earlobe, before trailing his mouth along that lovely jaw, Jack relished the delicious, spicy warmth of him, feeling intoxicated by the closeness of Johnny against his lips, his face. Not to mention all up along the length of him, and that lovely hardness poking against his lower belly.

He wanted to ravish this man. This- this beautiful, wonderful man. Jack felt lightheaded at the impending reality of it. And the fact that Johnny wanted him to.

The headiness was affecting his brain; he couldn't think of anything now except the driving need to move against the man under him, and he moaned in pleasure and satisfaction as he began to undulate against Johnny.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Johnny managed, laughing a little. "Let's take this next door. Come on."

Holding him down, Jack lifted his head and regarded him. "Alright," he agreed, amiably, before swiftly plunging down to capture Johnny's lips with his own, taking advantage of Johnny's surprised, parted mouth to seek out that sweet tongue, and then there was nothing but liquid heat and melting, throbbing pleasure, lost in the beauty of having Johnny giving it up to him.

When his lungs finally insisted, he relinquished Johnny's mouth, pulling back to pant, "God, I want you."

"Up, up," Johnny urged, bucking a little under him, but Jack grinned down at him at this, not least of which because it felt all too good.

"Do that again," Jack ordered, still grinning down at him, loving the way Johnny's expression turned startled.

Johnny's eyes narrowed and he smiled back, catching his lower lip between his teeth. "Well," he said, "this is going to be an interesting ride." And Johnny complied, surging upwards to grind against Jack, who let out a breath and closed his eyes at the sensation.

Blinking, Jack said, "You're right. We'd better move." He got up, reluctantly removing himself from Johnny's body, feeling the cold of no longer sharing his body heat...as well as the sheer absence of Johnny against him.

He stood, and held out a hand to Johnny, helping him to his feet. Jack let Johnny precede him in the direction of the bedroom next to the main room, through the large archway that joined the two rooms of the suite. He let Johnny get in through the doorway, and then he pounced, pushing Johnny against the wall on the inside of the bedroom, to lean in once more to taste the other side of Johnny's neck, nibbling wildly. Johnny gasped and seemed to turn boneless against him.

"Want you," Jack groaned, helplessly.

Johnny laughed softly under his breath, as the younger man rubbed shamelessly, against him. Jack's taller, lankier form was strong enough to pin Johnny against the wall.

* * *

Really, once he'd decided to go through with this, the rest had been easy. Baiting Jack. Making sure they both understood what was expected. Making sure the desire was mutual. Baiting Jack - it bore repeating. And oh, how he had risen.

Johnny's head thumped softly against the wall as Jack scraped his teeth over Johnny's collarbone.

"No good," he heard, muffled, and Jack pulled away.

"What-" he cut off his protest when he saw Jack's fingers, leaping from button to button as Jack shed his shirt, revealed a white t-shirt underneath. He couldn't help it-he giggled. "Jesus, man."

Jack looked up sharply, worry quick in his eyes. "What?" He was frozen, like he still more than half expected Johnny to throw him out on his ass.

"How many layers did you wear tonight?"

Jack grinned, and a drop of hot lead fell from Johnny's chest to his gut. "Fuck off, it's cold out, alright?" He reached up and pulled his t-shirt over his head, and any further wit Johnny might've provided was lost in the flex and ripple of his arms.

Johnny let his eyes travel over smooth skin, spattered with freckles and dark hair, sharp and soft and altogether too entrancing. Have to touch, he thought, and reached out to brush his fingers along the curve of a muscle, over a dusky nipple.

Jack inhaled sharply at the caress. "Christ." It was a simple exhortation, but no less forceful for its succinctness. It told Johnny all he needed to know, anyway, and he bent his head, following the path traced by his fingers with the soft brush of his lips and tongue.

He splayed his fingers over Jack's sides, slid his hands down to cup hips gone suddenly slack. Johnny pulled them tight against him again as he meandered across Jack's chest, now dragging his tongue through surprisingly soft hair, now biting the abrupt rise of collarbone, now mouthing at a rounded, muscular shoulder.

Jack's hands hung limp at his sides, the t-shirt dangling forgotten from his fingertips. Breath rushed through his slackened mouth and his chest heaved under Johnny's touch, Like the sea in a storm, Johnny thought, and damn if being around Jack didn't bring Sparrow back just a little.

The thought made him grin, and remembering the earlier blasphemy, he ducked his mouth to press flat against Jack's nipple. The ensuing deep, throaty moan was more than enough encouragement to suck, hard, and the judicious application of teeth was definitely called for here.

He hadn't thought to hurt Jack, but the slow, scraping bite produced a cry that was damn near loud enough to be called a scream. Jack, apparently rediscovering his arms, shoved Johnny back against the wall. He didn't have time to be worried, though, before Jack was tearing his own shirt off, pinning Johnny's arms to the wall over his head with one hand.

Jack's other hand cupped the side of Johnny's face, roughly pulled his jaw forward for a deep, savage kiss that did little to distract from the roll and press of Jack's body against his.

Finally, his mouth was released. Johnny gasped for air, his forehead resting against Jack's. Try as he might, he couldn't twist his gaze enough to make eye contact. "Thought we were headed for the bed," he managed.

"What's the hurry?" Jack responded. "Or are you going to try to tell me you're not enjoying this?"

Johnny laughed. He did manage to keep most of the disquietude out of the sound, but the ragged edges bled tension and fear. "This, making out like a horny fifteen year old? Or this, being thrown up against a wall by a man ten years my junior?"

Jack shook his head slowly, rocking Johnny's back and forth with the motion. "This, this," he answered cryptically, and then clarified with a slow grind of his hips. The friction of rough denim, trapped between the heavy fabric of Jack's trousers and Johnny's light boxers, chafed his straining cock in a painfully good way.

The tension of the evening, the slow teasing play, the grip on his wrists, holding him still, it was driving him quite surely insane and if the strain didn't break soon, Johnny was certain he would. Another twist of Jack's hips, the long slide of his free hand around Johnny's waist, and Johnny's mind was filled with a red haze.

"Oh, fuck, Jack!" He strained to move, to press into the too-soft caress of Jack's exploring hand, but he was held firm.

Jack stilled and ducked his chin to catch Johnny's gaze. "No, fuck Johnny," he corrected.

Johnny opened his mouth to say - to say what? What to say to that? That he hadn't - or didn't want to - but everything he started to say turned out to not be what he wanted to say, and in the end, he inhaled and swallowed deeply as he gave a curt nod of his head.

Jack's tentative smile seemed to ask for confirmation, and it felt like the first jerky movement had loosened something twisted inside him. Johnny nodded again and smiled, feeling it reach his eyes this time. "Yeah," he breathed, and he knew Jack understood what he was saying by the widening of his smile.

Jack slid his hands down over Johnny's arms and cradled his face gently. "Yeah," he whispered against Johnny's lips. This time the kiss was softer, undemanding. Johnny wasn't sure if it was meant to seek reassurance, or offer it. Maybe both.

Johnny imagined he could taste reluctance on his tongue as Jack pulled away from him, not releasing his face. "Yeah. So. I suppose we should move this party to the bed, hmm?" There was genuine fear in Jack's voice, Johnny was sure of it.

He shook his head. "You're still - what's bugging you, Jack? Why are you so frightened to go forward with this?"

Jack smiled ruefully. "Sooner I toss you into that bed, the sooner you're going to be throwing me out of it."

Caught off-guard by the frank answer, Johnny could only shake his head. "I offered you to stay the night," he countered, though he knew it was weak.

"Makes no difference if the sun's up or not, Johnny. It all comes down to the same thing."

Johnny sighed. Jack was right, of course, but it made damn little difference at this point in the game. "If I promise not to throw you out - tonight, or in the morning, or whenever you're damn good and ready to get up - will you, please, kindly, find it in your heart to quit teasing me and dicking around, and get around to the "fuck Johnny" segment of tonight's entertainment?"

Nodding, Jack smiled. "I think that's feasible," he said, and pulled Johnny away from the wall, stepping backwards toward the bed without taking his eyes from Johnny's.

So good, to be back in control, to feel like he was once more in control of something, anything at all. Jack pulled Johnny with him, a distinct sense of satisfaction settling upon him as Johnny allowed himself to be drawn towards the bed.

A glance behind himself in the dim room revealed to Jack that the bed was...big. He stopped, feeling the edge of the bed against his calves, and murmured in a tone of admiration, "That's- that's really large, actually."

"I'm glad you're impressed," Johnny managed hoarsely, and pushed him backwards with both hands.

Jack fell back in surprise, bouncing a little on the bed, with Johnny following him down.

Narrowing his eyes, Jack commented, "Oh, is this what you had in mind?"

Johnny raised his head and looked down at him with the expression of a cat staring at its prey it had just pounced. "Well, we're gonna be filming in Wales, probably, in a couple of days. And the scenes are, shall we say, interesting. I'm gonna need all the practice I can get. You can help."

Jack grinned helplessly at this, raising his brows. "Debauchery and naughtiness, I take it?"

"Yeah, and that's not even the half of it," Johnny replied, grinning back at him with something of a leer.

"So this is really all in a good cause, then," Jack said, contemplatively.

The wicked light in Johnny's eyes made Jack suck in a breath, at this, as the reply curled into him with promise of more 'naughtiness' than he could probably handle in one sitting. "I may not even let you go. You might have to stay up here until I'm through with you. You can help me...go over my lines."

This last was punctuated with a slight pinching of his nipples; damn, but Johnny had already twigged to what that did to him. Jack gasped aloud before he could think.

Johnny's hot mouth crashed into his, taking possession of him again, reminded him that he didn't have to worry anymore, or try to think - or even worry about thinking. Kisses, oh God, kisses; sweet, hard, demanding kisses, and Jack knew that he was dealing with someone who knew what he was about. Johnny...

He hadn't realized he'd murmured against him in-between the slide of the kisses across his mouth to his chin and lower down his throat, until Johnny lifted his head and asked with a little-boy-smile, "Enjoying yourself yet, Jack?"

But all the blood-flow had long since fled from his brain, and was pooling in a heated puddle in his lower belly, and his cock leapt a little at the sound of Johnny's voice purring into his bones where his chest lay against Jack's...Or was it more because of the slow, unceasing grinding of Johnny's body into his? All he could do was nod, mindlessly, and say, "Y-Yes?"

Control...what had happened to control? Mustering himself, Jack drew a breath and took hold of Johnny by both shoulders, then rolled, effectively pinning Johnny beneath him, and then realized what utter folly this move had been. Because there was no way he was going to be able to do anything else in any other position, and he'd have to simply do it to him right then and there, what with all the heat pounding through him and the lovely, lovely shimmy and wriggle of Johnny under him.

"Oh," Jack gasped. "God, oh God," and he trapped Johnny's mouth under his again, resolutely attempting to lose what was left of his mind before he lost his nerve.

Because he wanted him, oh dear God in heaven he wanted to fuck him. And Johnny was going to let him...

As he pulled back up, he stared into Johnny's dark eyes, noting how the long fringe obscured them and gave Johnny a rather coy look. What he was going to suggest died on his lips, and he blinked, realizing it was very, very true: Johnny was beautiful. Really beautiful. Not just a pretty man, a sexy star...He had that- that special something. That quality of-

"You really do prefer being on top, don't you?" Johnny observed, quietly.

Despite the lack of any possible hint of criticism in this, Jack found himself drawing up a little, defensively, and he quickly said, "Oh, if you'd prefer-"

With an almost silent laugh, Johnny pulled him back down to him and whispered, "In case you hadn't noticed, I trust you. I'm not going to kick you out on your ass. You may find yourself having trouble trying to leave."

Unable to resist the impulse, Jack leaned on one arm, and brought up his hand to brush the long, dark strands away from Johnny's eyes. The sensation of lying on top of him, trapping him under his own body to the bed beneath them, was somewhat of a balm to his earlier insecurity. Which had mostly gone, fortunately. Mostly. "You're something special, you know that?" Jack asked, quietly.

An expression slid into Johnny's eyes at this; a wistful, long-suffering look. It darted away in the next breath, though. "And what exactly do I have to do to get you to fuck me?"

"Is that what you want?" Jack asked, suddenly feeling certitude returning along with his confidence, as he realized that Johnny was... jaded.

"Well, I was rather looking forward to getting 'debauched', as we discussed," Johnny said, dryly.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I am on top tonight, and tonight's menu of debauchery will indeed include you getting fucked," Jack promised in a conciliatory fashion. "But not," he said, and kissed Johnny swiftly, "until I've decided," another kiss, "you want it more than I do."

Johnny emitted a laugh at this, as if surprised. "Is that a promise?"

"Ooh, I fully expect to hear some proper begging before I'm through," Jack said, in a low, teasing voice.

Johnny's snickering laugh at this was accompanied with a playful and shameless squirm against him, which made his heart leap into his throat...as well as causing more interesting groin-twitching that made him bite his lip.

"Yes, Johnny, your ass is, as they say, mine," Jack informed him. "And you'll be screaming for it before I'm done."

"The question on everyone's lips is, 'when'?" Johnny said, with another writhe under him, this time a little more desperate and obvious.

Staring down at him, Jack said, "Well, I didn't exactly come prepared. Do you have anything? I mean..."

A flare of recognition lit Johnny's face and he bit his lip as if in thought. "Yeah, oh yeah. Uh- try- over there." And he indicated in the direction of the other side of the bed. "In my bag. Let me up."

Jack moved off of him, and Johnny merely proceeded to move to the side of the bed, standing up to remove what was left of his clothing. Jack found himself watching with his mouth parted, and he shut it with a clop.

Naked. Completely naked, and completely perfect. Slim, and lithe, everywhere he looked, all the way down the treasure trail to Johnny's mouth-watering cock. Emblazoned onto his retinas and unable to imagine ever forgetting the sight.

As Johnny came to stand before him, holding out a hand, Jack felt lightheaded, and took the offered hand, allowing Johnny to pull him to his feet. "Are you going to finish undressing, or do you want me to do it for you?" Johnny's question wasn't acerbic at all, but matter of fact, and Jack realized it was a choice.

"Oh. Right. I'll - I'll do it; you go ahead and...and..." His brain had apparently decided to leave the building for good. God, he'd thought he'd gotten over feeling like an awkward teenager with women, and here he was going through it all over again. Suave, suave, he firmly reminded himself.

But Johnny had stepped away to go to one of his bags, had turned on the bedside lamp and was rummaging around in the bag, standing there naked in the lamp-light, saying, "Wasn't planning on getting lucky, myself, you know. Here," and he tossed a small tube of KY to Jack, who caught it despite being taken off-guard.

"Ah, yes. We'll need this," Jack commented. "And one of those," he added, moving to nab one of the small cushions.

"And this," Johnny said, tossing a rubber at him with something of a speculative glance. "You do remember what goes where, yeah?"

With a self-deprecating grin, Jack said, "Oh, yes; no worries, I think I can manage."

"Good, that's good," Johnny said, "because, you know, man, I was starting to worry that you'd caused permanent damage with that little accident with the tea, there." Switching the lamp off and climbing into the bed, slipping between the covers and settling in. "Come on in, the water's fine."

Left with only the light from outside to illuminate the room from the window, Jack licked his lips, nervously, realizing that he felt absolutely no guilt whatsoever to be doing this. And that was what was making him feel odd; it was as if he really ought to be feeling guilty. He'd had friends, good friends, men friends, who'd fancied him but never pressed, and he'd passed them over. And if that little expression he'd caught on Johnny's face a few moments before had been any indication, Johnny believed he was simply doing this to sleep with Johnny-the-star, not Johnny for himself. That had to be rectified.

Removing his clothes, and his boxers, and armed with condoms and lube, he joined Johnny in the expansive bed. Leaving the items beside the nearby pillow, he nestled in against Johnny, loving the way the hot skin felt against his own as he slid against the slighter man. The fact that Johnny was shorter and more slender of build than himself served to add to his excitement, he realized.

Taking him into his arms, Jack murmured against him in the close darkness, "First, I'm going to make love to you. Until it's not enough. Then, I'm going to fuck you."

He could hear Johnny's heart beating wildly, even as Johnny casually replied in a low, husky voice, "Promises, promises, Jack."

It was like going under, allowing himself to submerge beneath dark waves and breathe in water, drowning. Letting control begin to slip away along with reserve, and simply letting his hands and mouth go where they wanted.

His senses were filled with Johnny, with the little inadvertent gasps and sighs, the heated press of their bodies together, the thrill of holding him close, of holding him down.

And suddenly, it wasn't awkward at all, because it was another man, and therefore more familiar terrain. The thought of giving Johnny what they both wanted galvanized him and he began to kiss his way down the smooth chest, inching downwards until he was in a crouching position, allowing the covers to slip down from his back, and he reached up for the condoms, unwrapping one by tearing it with his teeth, fumbling a little and glad for the darkness. Oh, but it didn't matter anymore, because this abruptly turned into foreplay, somehow, as he made out the glint of Johnny's eyes watching him hotly in the dim light of the bedroom in the overly-sized bed.

His luck held and it didn't take long at all to unroll the rubber onto his cock. With a grin, he picked up the lube and applied a generous amount to his fingers. Shifting in once more to settle between Johnny's legs, which were parted on either side of him, he murmured, with one hand on Johnny's right thigh, just rubbing lightly, "Lift your legs."

The little gasp that caught in the back of Johnny's throat, and the slight hesitation was offset by the sensation of Johnny's calves rubbing against either side of him as he complied.

Grabbing the small cushion, Jack helped to shift it under Johnny's hips, elevating him further into an easier position. The vantage of this new angle made Jack bite his lower lip at the sight, somehow lewd and exposing and yet so very lovely, to see Johnny like this, and he stroked a hand along the inside of Johnny's right thigh, eliciting another of those small gasps.

A tremor from the man under his hand, however, reminded him that Johnny must be feeling exposed indeed, as well as expectant. Lying there obediently holding his knees up against himself, waiting. Jack found his mouth filling with saliva, a hot flood, as he abruptly wondered how delicious it would be to take that pretty cock into his mouth. In a moment, he promised himself. First things first.

Leaning over him to place his hand on the bed, he watched Johnny's face as he carefully felt between those parted buttocks, and found the tight, puckered anus, not taking his eyes from Johnny's as he began to swirl with one slick fingertip against it. Johnny stared back at him with a somewhat anticipatory expression he could even make out in the darkness, but his eyes were a little wide and Jack smiled down at him.

"Has it been a while then?" he asked gently, mindful to keep his touch as gentle, as he slid his finger into him up to the first knuckle, silently marveling at the sweetness of the sensation, feeling Johnny's body opening to him.

Another shiver rippled over Johnny, who managed, "Jesus Christ...just...just-" and fell quiet.

"Mmhm," Jack agreed, and slid his finger in deeper, receiving a hiss for his boldness. The exhilaration and tenderness lanced through him, at being able to do this to him, to do this to the beautiful man who lay spread and offered before him, so willingly - and so completely opposite to all his expectations and doubts from the evening.

And with a wicked grin, he moved down now to lick at the length of Johnny's erection, which jumped slightly, even as Johnny emitted a low yelp. Jack twirled his tongue around the glans, tasting the clean, nearly salty liquid on the tip, and then engulfed him whole, sucking him in entirely, enjoying the way Johnny gave an open-mouthed groan at it.

Jack was surprised at himself. He hadn't expected to want to do this, nor enjoy it as much as he was. But the thrill of making love to Johnny completely eradicated any lingering doubts he'd had about the actual technicalities of the act.

He felt so much more than mere sexual pleasure in this moment, of enjoying the trust and intimacy of Johnny allowing him to take him in his mouth and linger there, feeling the girth stretching his lips. He felt...a warmth emanating from the core of himself inside, a cessation at last to the little ache that had been twinging away inside of him all night long.

Jack kept the strokes of his finger slow and long, feeling deeper, and then retracted a bit before adding a second fingertip - very slowly indeed. He knew what would feel good at this point and realized making love to another man, even this man, was far easier than he could have imagined, because he just...knew. Reaching up to handle his balls, firmly, fondling them, he felt the shudder rip through Johnny, and then heard the gasped exclamation.

"Jesus- fuck, man, just...God, y-you'll have to- stop. It's too much," Johnny insisted.

Jack stopped, letting Johnny's cock slip from his mouth. Glancing up, he asked, "What, too much? Too much what? Are you begging, already?"

Johnny let out a breathy laugh. "No, no," he said, a bit too quickly, "just your mouth. That's too much right now, yeah? Don't- don't want to lose it too soon, is all."

Jack found himself chuckling. He replied by sliding both fingers deeper and then crooking 'up' a little, smoothing against that spot inside that suddenly had Johnny whimpering as if in pain.

"That's alright," Jack commented, lightly. "You can lose it. I want you to. You can lose it as many times as you like. It won't get you fucked any faster though. I did promise to do this at my pace."

Panting now, Johnny gasped in a slightly disbelieving tone, "Bastard..."

Jack smiled wolfishly. "Well, yes." And he punctuated this with another relentless rub with his fingers buried in Johnny's ass. The strangled, guttural shriek was most lovely to hear.

But he decided to be merciful. And it really was too beautiful, to give him this pleasure.

Sweet, in fact. To worship in silence in a moment of peace, with nothing but moans and a sensation of flying as he continued to touch him, and the thought of being inside of him was almost too much now.

Pulling his fingers out, he reached blindly for the KY and slicked more onto his fingers before slathering it over his stiff cock, still adorned and ready. Edging forward on his knees, he helped Johnny place his legs on either side of his neck, and leaned over him, trying to slip the head into that longed-for entrance, and pushed in...

Hot, so hot and oh, God, so tight, and he was moving slow, ensuring he wouldn't hurt him, and Johnny was panting. So obviously trying not to seem like he was either, which Jack found inordinately endearing.

And he was only getting started here. The unique and wild flavor of sliding into him, feeling the tightness of Johnny's body on his cock more than made up for the fact he was wearing the rubber, and it really didn't matter in the least. And the pleasure was crashing through him relentless along with the pounding of his heart and the way neither of them was saying anything at all, just hearing each other's breathing coming quick and loud between them.

The darkness was just enough to lend a little aid for whatever awkwardness remained, although there was very little of it left, either for his doubts or fears about 'performance', because it was all going up in flames as he was losing himself in Johnny, Johnny...

"Johnny," he breathed, aloud, loving his name, loving him, loving the way it felt to be buried inside of him, and he knew he was very near the edge of losing control.

He paused, ceasing all movement, and forced himself to suck air into his lungs, slowly.

"Fuck," Johnny said, lowly, with meaning.

"Quite," Jack agreed, weakly. He gulped in another breath. "I really didn't think it would be this...well, this good," he managed.

Johnny licked his lips and said, "What, exactly, do you want me to say to get you to fuck me properly, Jack? Begging? Bribery? Do I have to call you some special name, or something?"

The desperation and strain in Johnny's voice made Jack chuckle, helplessly. "You mean like this?" he inquired, pushing forward with a lurch of his hips against Johnny, allowing himself to press into him up to his balls.

Johnny's muscles in his legs tightened, and he squirmed a little, on Jack's cock that speared him. "God-oh-God- fucker; just fucking do it. Please."

But the pleading note in his voice was enough to reach into Jack's reserve and control and the spiraling lust it sent throughout Jack was a shockwave that melted what was left of his ability to think and he surged forward again, caring less about being careful, and realized what Johnny needed. Which suited him fine, as he needed this just as much, himself, if not more.

This...rhythm. Like dancing. Enjoying him, loving the heat and the delicious, luxurious completeness of being engulfed in him. There was something precious and heady about being the one to do this to him, to give it to him when he'd not been taken for a while.

The drinks he'd had before had long since given way before the adrenaline and the pleasure cavorting through his bloodstream, and he had to force himself to remain at a steady pace, keeping it hard but slow, remembering to take each moment of this clutching heat around him.

Johnny's head was back, his chin uplifted, his neck arched, and he looked too incredible, and Jack could not resist. He leaned in to mouth along his jaw, up to those parted lips that loosened a moan into him.

"Oh, yes," Jack growled against him, bucking into him hard, again and again, nearly coming undone from the way Johnny's body seemed to pull him in.

And Johnny was too pretty while he was being fucked. But Jack was holding out for something sweeter, and prettier...he wanted to watch him come.

* * *

It had been too long. He'd forgotten what it was like, exactly. Didn't usually find himself on the receiving end, and it had been alright, really, up to this point, with how reticent and shy Jack had been.

He'd even wondered if he'd been wrong about Jack, all those hot sidelong glances and - Christ, but it felt good - and his senses were about as pummeled as his ass with the shafting Jack was giving him.

But kisses and reassurance had led to this, and he couldn't wrap his head around when it had suddenly turned into him begging for it. He hadn't wanted it, really. It had been a revelation to discover that he, in fact, had. And he was astonished to discover the words pouring out of his mouth.

"Please, oh- GOD, harder..."

Jack was already treating him to a vigorous thrusting, the likes of which he'd honestly not experienced in - well, a good while.

But at his pleading, Jack chuckled darkly, a wonderful sound that curled into him with velvet, wicked promise and Jack replied, "Harder? I was thinking more along the lines of-" and he broke off, while pulling out a smidgeon, and then angling his next thrust more shallow but with an intent that found its mark and made him literally see stars.

"Christ, man," Johnny yelped.

Jack was laughing a little. "Thought you'd like that," he said, in a tone of pleased satisfaction. And he did it again, leaving Johnny half-clawing at the pillows and Jack's arm.

Jack's earlier promise about fucking, and lovemaking, and when one would become the other, and the seductive nature of Jack's longing for him all night - it all began to cartwheel through him, and merge into the simplistic yet completely devastating culmination of where they had been going together.

He hadn't lied; he did trust Jack. He'd trusted him to know how to accomplish this too, and give him what they both seemed to really need, and he found himself open-mouthed, groaning, staring back up into shadowed green eyes in the half-light of the room that were so focused upon his that it nearly took his breath away. Luckily what Jack was doing to him hadn't already stolen it, and he managed to gasp, "Touch me."

Breaking the rhythm momentarily, Jack swiftly moved to lean upon one hand, and reached down to grab Johnny's eager, straining cock, and hissed, "That's it."

Jack worked him quickly, expertly, and took up that shockingly pleasurable, burning shafting of him again, coring him out, leaving him boneless, weak, liquefied.

The sure, knowing hand on him combined with the hard fuck was making him fall apart at the seams, the pleasure ripping through him with little lightning jags and ludicrous shapes like in the cartoons, and he gave a low shriek as his orgasm hit him like a runaway train, overdue and over-stimulated.

Jack was repeating in shocked, breathy, adoring tones, "Johnny, oh Johnny-"

Which was fine, because Jack's voice grounded him with the weight of the desire and care in it, and was breaking through the haze and the lust that swam in his head as his hearing cut out, only trickling back as he found he was jerking helplessly under him, pinioned on Jack.

Jack tensed then, and stiffened tautly, and cried out, releasing in that moment with a series of mistimed, wild thrusts into him. Johnny found he was holding his breath, open-mouthed, watching as Jack's face took on a look of pained wonder.

Seconds slipped past. Time didn't exactly stand still, but Jack went motionless now, his breathing coming in gulps, panting, and then let out in a deep sigh. He was shaking.

Johnny grinned. "You're really beautiful like this."

His voice sounded loud even to his own ears, in the air between them, and Jack merely grinned back, and then swooped down to capture his mouth, moving over his lips briefly with a tender possessiveness that sent a dart of warmth through him all over again.

Jack lifted up all too soon and murmured, "You alright?"

Johnny just nodded, and stroked a hand down Jack's arm. Who moved, shifting and pulling out of him, carefully. Johnny winced in spite of himself.

"Sorry," Jack mumbled, helping him to bring his knees down - and then promptly surprised him by looming over him to lap at the wetness cooling on his midriff. In between licking at his skin, cleaning him with that warm tongue, Jack explained, "Don't want to waste it. I...mm...wanted to taste you."

Jack moved away in the dark, dealing with the condom, and leaving the expanse of the bed altogether.

Johnny removed the cushion from underneath himself and tossed it to one side. He flinched as he rolled to a sitting position. He was going to be sore tomorrow. So much for wild debauchery and decadence. Pulling the covers back up, he settled into the bed. Lazily, he asked, "You're coming back, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack's vague reply returned from the corner of the room, before Jack followed suit and climbed back towards him, getting in beside him and snuggling up to him, one arm going about his midsection loosely...but not too loosely.

Thinking it over, Johnny reached for him. "You okay? I'm not exactly kicking you out."

He wondered if Jack had got over the earlier doubt about this. And whether or not Jack had managed to exorcise his attraction to Johnny through it. He even found a part of himself sink inside, at that thought. Jack would probably leave of his own accord, actually.

* * *

Jack leaned into him, settling against him. He heard a slight misgiving in Johnny's concern for him and wondered.

The moment he'd caught, earlier, returned to him full-force; the look in Johnny's eyes when he'd informed him that he was special. Jaded? Or...was it something else? Resignation?

He sniffed casually. "You're not getting away that easily." He tightened his arm about Johnny.

Not wanting to pressure Johnny in the least, yet abruptly wondering if Johnny would try to bring this to some kind of premature conclusion, out of some defensive need to protect himself, Jack added quickly, "I hardly think that qualified as practice though."

Johnny was laughing silently at this. "I love it."

Jack blinked. "Love what?"

Still chuckling, Johnny continued, "England. Everyone says, 'no sex, please, we're British'. But you guys, you're really all so casual about it. No big deal. I love that. Really."

With a wry smile, Jack replied, "Well, naturally. As everyone knows, the English practically invented sex. We've been doing it longer than you Yanks, after all."

"Sure. And if I make you eat those words, Jack?"

Grinning sharply, Jack turned his face to regard Johnny at this one. "I see. I must prove myself, for England. Excellent. Alright. I'm up for the challenge. I'll eat those words. And if I'm the big, bad wolf, what does that make you?"

"Red Riding Hood. Obviously," Johnny rejoined, flippantly, easily. "Although I thought you fancied yourself as James Bond?"

"Mm. I wish," Jack commented a little ruefully.

"Could still happen," Johnny said, a few heartbeats later.

"Sure," Jack agreed. "So long as I keep wearing the brocade and the frills in Pirates movies opposite you? Not going to happen," he stated, with some amusement.

Johnny was still and quiet. Then he said, "Jack, man, you have to understand, this, here...it's not...it's just..."

Jack squeezed him. "I know," he said, quietly, interrupting Johnny. "It's alright. I already know."

But Johnny let out a breath that was even a little shaky, and said, "No, not that. I want you to know it isn't just a one-night stand, you know? I wouldn't do that. I don't do this either, usually, it's just..." he trailed off.

In the dark, Jack smiled widely, abruptly feeling a lovely affectionate warmth creeping throughout him. "Yeah, I know."

Johnny was quiet. "Good," he finally murmured. He relaxed against Jack, imperceptibly, but Jack felt it, and caught at last the full import behind what Johnny had said.

Just because morning came didn't mean it would be over. Not simply to be discarded. Or placed on a shelf of memories. Or denigrated to a one-night stand, regardless of how much one openly claimed it wasn't, right after the act.

Holding him, warm, still wanted, the delirious deliciousness of having had him, Jack relaxed too, realizing he'd not quite let go himself. He sighed contentedly.

As Johnny moved a little, shifting into him yet closer, Jack knew beyond any words they might have spoken now, he'd won something. Something far more valuable than 'friendship', or trust.

He smiled again, and allowed his eyes to close.

* * *