Fic: Say When (J/J, NC-17) 3/4

[bellap74]

Chapter Three ~ Immerse me until I believe.


The weather in Windermere is dry and bright if a little chilly. Jeremy stands looking across the lake and eating a sandwich, the sky is reflected on the still surface and he thinks of James. Feels excitement still knotted in his gut from the day before and wonders whether the sweeping thrill and uncertainty might not be a bit like being flown above the clouds in May's Cessna. Normally he'd clamp down on such thoughts and remonstrate with himself but today it feels allowable, it's not like he hasn't been thinking about anything else after all. Granted he did insist on driving up to the shoot alone so that he could listen to Seger and wallow in lyrics, and maybe Always In My Heart was on repeat for a while but there'd been a twenty minute conversation with Andy after that where James didn't feature at all. Possibly the previous night had a somewhat May flavour too but surely that's excusable given the words Jeremy had carried home, poetry written for him - about him. Words that he'd reread at least a dozen times - enough to remember them easily under the spray of the shower with his eyes closed. In fact he'd remembered them so well that they themed his morning shower too, filling his head as he stroked away brilliant images of blunt fingers and long legs. Now here he is having a quick break after hours of driving, on camera and off, so he reasons it's allowable think about something other than cars.

“If we can do the long curve again,” Iain says stepping up beside him, “that'll do us for today. The light's going to be gone soon.”

Jeremy checks his watch, “Bloody hell, it's gone three.”

“Yeah, but we'll be finished by four if we set this up. OK?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Jeremy nods and moves towards the car, in this light it looks almost orangey brown and he thinks James would appreciate that. Pulling his phone out he takes a quick picture and sends it with a message claiming BMW have styled it on James' shoes.

It takes James a while to respond. He doesn't get the message for half an hour because whilst Jeremy's breathing the fresh air of the lakes, albeit through a filter tip, he's sitting at his computer trying to write a column and not think about him. The past few days have taken James by surprise, at himself as much as Jeremy and his normal ability to shut down certain trains of thought seems to have been lost. He's spent almost twenty-four hours regretting the choice to stand down rather than push for dinner, imagining Jeremy alone with the note he'd written and wondering if he was turned on or imagining them together - bringing himself off just like James at the thought of it. Now he sits smiling at his phone and the cheeky message, it's a very Jeremy thing but something he'd normally say after the fact not there and then. His gut warm with the knowledge that Jeremy's thinking of him, he sends an equally teasing response, Always said the German's had great taste. Better than vile, green & made of suede.

He doesn't expect a quick reply, if any, so he stares at the screen in front of him and tries to write his column, the one loosely themed on traction rather than the one in his head fetishizing pot-bellied men. A minute later his phone bleeps and he laughs reading Jeremy's fond insult and familiar query of what the hell James knows about anything. He knows that Jeremy is twisting him in knots, knows that he wants him and wishes he could enjoy this final tease knowing they're almost there. I know you should wear better shoes, he writes almost considering an 'x' at the end but reigning himself in until Jeremy responds immediately with - Why?

Someone waves to Jeremy from the other side of the road where they're changing cameras. signalling a five minute wait; he returns the gesture and switches his attention back to his phone. He doesn't care too much what James thinks about his footwear but he's still keen for a reply. It arrives just as Dan signals four and Jeremy nods before reading, - Because you're bloody gorgeous down as far as your feet - and then he gulps in a breath. Checking the message again, he finds the very same words and although they make him chuckle and think of the times they've wound each other up before, they also make Jeremy feel stupidly happy. He can't really believe that James means it of course but the evidence is mounting and Jeremy's never been afraid to face facts. I could use that text against you, he sends.

Yes but you won't, James responds.

Jeremy sees the countdown signal reach two and quickly replies, But I could. It's silly and only words on a phone but it feels exciting and it's definitely the closest he's been to mutual flirting in years.

Better not tell you what I was going to say next then.

Oh God, Jeremy thinks, not now James; not nearly three hundred miles away when concentration is a must. He doesn't tell him that though, instead he calls him a stripy coward and puts the phone back in his pocket. As he looks up, Dan leans in against the driver's window and asks him to do a 'comfortable' run back down to the lake. Ignoring the phone vibrating against his thigh Jeremy does just that; he feels confident and energetic and the car seems to know it, like an animal might. Together they make images that he knows will pop off the screen and make Wilman a very happy man.

At the side of the lake, Jeremy leaves the BMW standing for close-ups and lights a cigarette. He moves well away from the crew as though hoarding some special treasure and pulls out his phone, his fingers feel clumsy on the keys and he's nervous of what he'll find. Maybe the text isn't from James or if it is then maybe it's simply a returned insult - perhaps that would be better than something which might make him want to return to London immediately. Letting his eyes fall in a long blink, he gathers himself and checks the message, it is from James and it makes him hate the bloody Lake District.

Do I have to be brave to want you? Can only a hero fuck you?

No, Jeremy writes, racing pulse resonating around his body. He wants to go home now, to tell them they've got enough and just drive a straight three and a half hours to Hammersmith. But he can't and instead smokes another cigarette in frustration while wondering if he'll be able to recapture this momentum tomorrow. He can picture himself on James' doorstep but not what happens next. The phone jumps in his hand and Jeremy reads James' reply - Good. I still want to earn the medal though.

Jeremy closes his eyes and feels himself sway.

**********

The emphatic 'Great!' he receives makes James laugh and abandon writing for the day in favour of an early beer and some cloud watching. He knows from Jeremy's last text that he's busy finishing up for the day and James thinks it's just as well to leave him to it; the small annoyances that come along at this point in a shoot are familiar and Jeremy won't need distraction. Instead he sits on his back doorstep and watches the sky above him move, savouring the cold beer and thinking about taking Jeremy up in the plane one day. It's quite a tame dream really and perhaps a little ridiculous but it's one that he's had since the Cessna became his. Sharing the sky with Jeremy, writing themselves large on a big blue screen for no one to see and being trusted to keep them both safe. He lets his mind wander on the subject through another beer and a couple of cigarettes before the light starts to draw in and his stomach rumbles.

By the time he's eaten a quickly constructed meal and opted for tea rather than more alcohol, James is feeling less giddy. It's not melancholy or regret, not even frustration but the warmth inside him feels like it's ebbing away. He sticks the radio on for a while and lets some Brahms soothe him while he washes up and then his phone bleeps and the feeling clarifies, he's missing Jeremy; missing someone who wouldn't normally be here anyway but perhaps should be. The message isn't from him though, it's Colin asking if James fancies a pint, he declines politely and flops down on the sofa. Running his hands through his hair, he releases a slow breath and reasons that this tension will be best resolved by a long shower, at least thoughts of Jeremy will be of some use there. Decision made he heads upstairs and strips, dropping his phone onto the bed just as it bleeps again, this time it is Jeremy and James is so bloody glad. Can't help thinking I'd be better off there tonight, he reads and mutters agreement as he pulls his boxers off.

Jeremy waits. This is the first time he's let his need rule him and had the guts to make a move towards James. The message is clear but not too obvious he thinks, James can choose to see it as a filming grumble if he wants to. But why would he? James has been far more blatant, Jeremy reassures himself, he'll take the statement as it's intended. Still when his phone chimes he hesitates, filling his lungs before checking it - You'd be stripped and then dressed in me, laid out and covered slowly, I'd be sucking stains onto your skin as you writhe around below me.

The air leaves Jeremy's lungs and he gasps another breath in, pleasure shivers running down his limbs and his heart speeding up. He waits unsure of the right response and hears another message arrive, If you were here I'd be alive, to every thing about you. You'd fill my mouth, my body, my soul as if I'd never been without you. The words stare at him, regular and clear on the screen but there's something more, lifting them out, making them dig into Jeremy's mind and stretch throughout his body. He flicks back to the previous message where stripped, covered and sucking all leap out at him, making him want; then back to alive and mouth and body. He feels the churning inside, the flush rising upwards and the blood throbbing downwards.

He texts the only thing he can think of to say, Do you know what you're doing?

I'm thinking of your shoulders, James replies, your broad back beneath me moving, grasping you and sliding in, the fit so tight it burns for soothing.

Jeremy's hand goes straight to his throat as he swallows hard and then down to his crotch, the heel of his palm pressing in and his eyes sliding shut. He's stupidly aroused now, wants nothing more than to have James here with him, making good on these promises. Instead he's alone on a bed again, hand on his cock and James' bloody poetry driving him on; in frustration he replies, Actions speak louder than words. He doesn't even know what he means by that, maybe it's a set-up for tomorrow because there's nothing more James can do right now from three hundred miles away. Then the phone rings, Radar Love fills the air and Jeremy thinks he might explode before he can answer it.

James licks his lips as the phone rings against his ear and then he hears Jeremy's unnatural hello. It makes him smile and he squeezes his cock as he forgoes niceties in favour of passion. “I want you all around me,” he says lowering his voice, “until we're one and have no names, we'll fuck like an inferno, let sweat and come douse the flames.”

“Christ,” Jeremy breathes heavily and James can tell he's turned on. “James do you know what you're doing?”

“Seducing you, hopefully.”

“It's bloody working.”

James smiles against the phone, fingers locking at the base of his cock.“That's excellent. Hello by the way.”

“Hello, May.” They both chuckle and James can hear the nervousness in Jeremy's voice, the willing uncertainty. “You're as eloquent as usual when you're not being filthy then?”

“Well conversation is easier when I haven't got a raging hard-on.”

“Oh.”

James doesn't speak, wondering if Jeremy will offer him more or at least say something to keep the conversation from dying an awkward death. He doesn't though and after a few more seconds of breathing down the line, James concedes. “Right, I should probably go.”

“No.” Jeremy takes a deep breath and cuts through James' goodbye, “I'm ready.”

“Are you?”

“Jesus, James! Yes.”

The forcefulness of Jeremy's reply makes him gasp and James strokes himself slowly, “Where are you?”

“At the hotel, in a delightfully floral room.”

The room is indeed floral but could only ever delight the most easily pleased of guests, it's either incredibly detailed retro chic or hasn't been redecorated since the early 70's. Either way it reminds Jeremy of the house he came home to in his teenage years and that just adds to the churning inside. He feels excited and horny but nervous too, unprepared and on the back foot like his early experiences - a combination he hasn't felt for decades. But it seems right to be closing his eyes against chintz and taking a leap into something new and amazingly it feels right that it's James he's leaping with.

“Are you really -?” He stops himself, wanting to say 'hard' but embarrassed by the word on his lips. “Are you - turned on?” he says instead and wishes he had the ease with words that James does in this situation, cursing the reversal and the loss of his eloquence.

“Fucking hell, Jez. Of course I am.”

“Well I didn't know,” Jeremy blusters and tries to undo his belt silently, “the things you say to me might not work for you.”

“They don't need to you fool, it's how I feel.”

Jeremy swallows and nods, then realising his error says, “Me too.” His belt buckle clinks as he pulls it free and he freezes, wondering why he feels so awkward about being aroused.

“You do realise you turn me on don't you?” James asks not giving him chance to answer, “I mean I have made it clear enough. You seemed to want verse so I gave you it but I can just tell you what I want if you'd rather.”

“Oh, God.” Jeremy groans, “James - I... I'm sitting in a hotel, trying to undress without you knowing because I can't stop thinking about you and neither can my cock. Every time you say any of those things to me I just get ridiculously horny and I'm sorry but I probably don't appreciate the poetry or whatever it is, anywhere near as much as I should because-.” He stops and takes a deep breath, “Because all I can think is that I want you.”

“Jez-.”

“And that I'm sick of wanking on my own.” Jeremy adds quickly, zipping himself back up in frustration.

There's a thick silence for a few moments, both of them breathing heavily and weighing up the next step. Jeremy starts to wonder if he's ruined everything but then James' voice sounds stronger in his ear, “Shall we do it together then?”

“What?”

“Take your clothes off,” James says, “I'm naked and I'm wanking as I talk to you, thinking about being there and pining you to that hotel bed.”

“James? Christ, really? I'm - ready for this.” Jeremy gabbles and he doesn't care now what words come out of his mouth because James is moaning down the phone at him and urging him to get his clothes off. He tries to comply without putting the phone down but gets tangled and has to tell him to wait while he gets his jeans off.

“OK, ready now?” James chuckles and it's a lower, filthier sound than usual, making the hairs on the back of Jeremy's neck stand up.

“Yes, God. James - I'm so fucking hard.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Shall I talk to you?” James asks and Jeremy all but begs in response, desperate for a picture to be painted and for James' low voice to fill his ears. “Shall I tell you how I've thought about you, wondered what you'd feel like beneath me, how I'd feel beneath you? How I daydream about your body and how I could make you come apart, let myself break inside of you, over you, because of you.”

Jeremy strokes his cock in a steady rhythm, pulse pounding in his ears and says, “Tell me.”

“About us - about me offering myself to you, kneeling naked at your feet and being willing,” James breathes heavier and the effect along with the words drives Jeremy on. “Can you picture it, Jez? Just us in that room and all the time in the world.”

“Yes, fuck.” Jeremy says and it's such an effort to answer, to drag himself back from the world in his head. He wants James to take him there, lead him through and just keep going but most of all he wants the tone of voice James adopts for poetry. “I want to hear your words,” he says, feeling suddenly free to demand, “Tell me in a poem.”

James groans and with only the briefest of pauses says, “I'm yours to explore as I bend to you, tend to you, offer my cock or my mouth or my arse to you. You can touch me and take me on the bed or the floor, let me work for you, jerk for you, be master or whore.”

“Not whore,” Jeremy pants heavily, fist working himself in the rhythm James has set, “not you. I want you to fuck me.”

The words are so intense that James knows how much they're meant and he feels himself surge, pre-come coating his fingers as they work up and down his cock. He can hear Jeremy breathing harshly along with him and lets his mind go free as he opens his mouth, “My fingers will travel you, my tongue will unravel you, open you up and deep in I slide. Feel my thrusts rocking you, claiming you, shaping you, mould to the bed let me inside.”

“Oh-hh.”

Eyes shut, James is lost, close to the edge and wanking himself faster. “This fuck is hot -it feels slick, like my mouth on your dick - uhn - it's hungry and fast like my hands on your arse, but my hands on your leg would be slow, make you beg-.”

“James! Oh, fuck.”

“Strip you slow so you'd know, that I'm hard and I'm ready but I'm not going to rush, fuck you deep fuck you steady,” James moans, hardly aware of the words, only seeing the images in his mind and hearing Jeremy's responding sounds. “Put my mouth on your skin, take a taste, breath you in, make you ask for it, throb for it, need for it, plead for it.”

“Uh-huhh, Christ -.” Jeremy groans, “ I'm - unnnh..”

The orgasm builds layer upon layer, filling James' groin with heavy heat, each word threatens to trigger it and he tenses. His cock pulses in the same random desperation as his hand moves and he pants between words, “Wank for me, feel your skin, imagine that I suck you in, - there between your knees and before I swallow I say please.” James voice falters, becoming tight as he feels himself fall, “Please - Jez can I suck you, make you come and later fuck you, please can I taste you, can I savour, uhh - can I swallow and know your flavour. I can make you feel amazing, feel as if your spine is blazing, fingers on your skin make patterns, kissing you, sucking you, nothing else matters. Uhh, I'll be beside, below, above you; ask me why- ”

“Uhnn - James.” Jeremy cuts in, and the noises that follow are barely controlled. James feels almost high and he falls silent, listening to Jeremy's orgasm as it plays out over the phone. He lets himself speak again as Jeremy recovers, his own need pulsing.

“I want you, fuck I need you,” he almost whines as the pleasure hits, Jeremy coaxes him over the edge and James comes loudly.

They've barely managed a full recovery sentence between them before Jeremy swears, he wants to lay back on the bed and listen to James ramble but someone is knocking at his door. He shouts for them to wait as he scrambles back into his jeans, wiping his hands on the worn denim, “Shit, it's Iain - hang on a minute, all right?”

James sighs, “You go. It's OK.”

“No, it's really not,” Jeremy snorts. “I can't open the door like this, you've got me - Hang on!”

“Go and have dinner, man.” James laughs, “You've earned it.”

“I don't want -.” Jeremy stops, huffing as Ian calls through the door, “Look, I'm not asleep or dead, I'll be there in a minute!” He doesn't want to let this go, let James go not now but James is already excusing him and it feels like the wrong way to leave things.

“Come over when you get back.” James says sounding much more like himself and less like a wanton tease.

“What time?”

“What? Christ, I don't know.” James laughs again, “Don't ask me to think when I've just -. Whenever you're ready.”

Jeremy sighs and shakes his head, “I've already told you, I'm ready now.”

**********

Jeremy answers the door in an adjusted state and goes off to dinner, his head full of James and disbelief at his luck. The promise of tomorrow fills him with an anticipatory frustration that he knows will make the morning's driving fast and sleek, but for now he needs food and possibly wine. James is right, he has built up an appetite and as he chews on his steak he wonders why it's sleep that follows straight after sex rather than a sandwich. He thinks of James again and changes sandwich to pie then chuckles, pulling up an old anecdote to cover himself when the others show interest. It's not until much later, after dinner and with a glass of wine in his hand, that he drifts from the general conversation and realises he wants to know what James was going to say next, that he wasn't so caught up in the power of the words and his own physical reaction that their meaning didn't filter in. Some of them have settled in his head and he can almost hear James urging, 'I'll be beside, below, above you, ask me why -.” He hadn't finished that sentence and maybe James has no idea what he was saying, caught up in the moment and unthinking; perhaps what follows is more teasing filth but Jeremy's mind settles on the rhyme and won't let go.

Finishing his wine, he gets distracted again into a conversation about Berlusconi and the planned Italian trip. It keeps Jeremy occupied for another hour or so until finally he feels exhaustion hit and heads back to the hotel and the peace of his room. He needs to grab at least seven hours sleep with the early slot they have tomorrow but he's giving himself the chance of ten to allow for insomnia. Somehow his body and mind don't feel like they want to fight tonight, but if they do at least he has some entertaining thoughts of James to replace the usually empty frustration. As he undresses, Jeremy realises he wants to talk to him and say goodnight although such a need seems premature. It feels right to have that contact though and if he's honest, he still can't get the unfinished line out of his mind. Running through potential rhymes and certain that there's only one it can be, he picks up his phone; he wants to call and ask out loud but at the last minute he can't and instead sends a message. Certain that James will still be awake and that he'll understand, Jeremy writes, I'll be beside, below above you. Ask me why - ?

For the next few minutes he worries, cursing himself for pressing 'send' and hoping that James does indeed know what he's asking. He worries more when his phone lights up in response and then he reads, I'll be beside, below, above you; ask me why, perhaps I love you. He smiles and feels giddy satisfaction at guessing the rhyme, enjoying the tease of 'perhaps' and letting himself wonder. Not knowing how to respond but wanting to, needing to so that James doesn't think he's gone too far, he sends - I'm not a handyman with stamina, you know.

No, you're an angry man with a hammer, James' response reads, But I still would.

Jeremy laughs and concedes, You were right about penis poetry, it works.

I know and because of you my head's full of it, James replies and this time there's an 'x' at the end all by itself. Jeremy swipes his thumb over it and tries to find the right words, he has so many of them and he's ready to share. In the end he can't make sense of them on the screen though and opts for a familiar style, It's all in your head? So you finally admit that you're a mental.

He sends the text and waits but a response doesn't come, he waits long minutes checking his phone but it doesn't light up or make a sound. Cursing his idiocy and male pride, he tries to formulate a new message, a better one. Finally as he's looking out of the window into the darkness and wondering how he can possibly have upset James with one stupid comment, when James has literally talked him off over the phone, there's a loud bleep. Jeremy's speed at retrieving his mobile would be comical to anyone watching and he reads the message quickly, then again slowly and sits down on the bed.

Is lust the madness or does love make me crazy, should touches be heated or careful and lazy, should I burn for your body or covet your heart, if both diseases are present where should I start?

Jeremy soars and plummets at the same time, revelling in the words but resentful of the distance, not pausing to acknowledge his nerves he calls James' number. As soon as it's answered he insists, “I wish you were here. There's so much to say.”

“I know,” James soothes. “Tomorrow though, yes?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy says feeling connected for the first time in ages.

“Sleep tight old man.”

“You too,” Jeremy hangs up, “You too, James.”

**********

Chapter Four ~ Let words ever be your tease.