wax wings: eight
January 2013
The apartment
There are boxes everywhere, sitting unpacked and stacked neatly against the walls of the apartment. They don’t have much yet; they have Jack’s bed and Alex’s old orange sectional sofa, an old wall unit that Rian and Zack gave to them, Jack’s old television set and miscellaneous dishes. It’s perfect - it’s theirs, after all - even if there is a lot left to do. Most of Alex’s stuff is still sitting in boxes and bags in Jack’s old bedroom. He feels slightly guilty; the look on Pete’s face when he pulled his car out of the driveway this morning just about broke his heart. The tears he felt building up are going to have to wait until later. Rian and Zack are unpacking dishes, arguing over whether the forks go on the left side of the drawer or the right, and Jack is standing in the middle of the living room with hands on his hips, staring at the piles of boxes everywhere. May gave them very specific instructions to stay out of both bedrooms because, according to her, men just aren’t capable of putting a bedroom together correctly.
Alex is actually very surprised that she’s come around so nicely. He was half-expecting her to give him a dead skunk as a housewarming gift, honestly. Instead, she is bossing the boys around, telling them to move things half an inch to the left, the right... He’s glad she is helping with the move, because seeing everything all haphazard and disorganized is very stressful for him. It’s sort of a tentative half-friendship at best. Jack comes over to him, pulls him into a hug.
“You okay?” Jack mumbles against his skin. Alex nods slightly, seeking more skin-to-skin contact. It’s not a sexual thing at all, yet, more for comfort. Jack can usually tell when he’s freaking out about something. They’ve known each other for fifteen years, or just over half their lives, so it’s second nature to both men to know how the other feels most of the time. Jack’s lips graze his gently.
“I’m good,” Alex sighs. He tightens his grip on his boyfriend’s waist, closing his eyes for a moment. This is their place; this is where they are going to live together. No more sneaking around, no more hiding, no more angry sisters or ex-wives or people to make their lives complicated. He’s happy. “I just love you, is all.”
Jack says, “I love you too,” and rubs his hip affectionately. He’s been doing things like that all day, sort-of teasingly, and Alex is not sure where this is leading. He’s hopeful, sure, but not expecting. Their lips meet again in another warm, soft kiss, and it takes all of his strength to keep from pressing Jack against the wall and taking him right then and there. Jack kisses him again, laughing slightly, and says, “Go help May with the bedroom stuff. I’m going to keep Zack from stabbing Rian with our cutlery.” While that is an amusing vignette to play through in his head, it definitely isn’t something Alex wants panning out in his kitchen. And the last part of that thought sets him grinning again - his kitchen. The kitchen that belongs to him. And Jack.
He pads into the bedroom - May has got everything under control, it seems, so he doesn’t know why Jack wants him in here. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Oh, you’re here! Good,” May says. “I need you to put Jack’s Christmas lights up. I would do it, but...” She shrugs.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I see your problem; vertically challenged. You just tell me where to put ‘em, and then I’ll see if I can get those stupid hooks into the drywall.” They spend the next half hour wrestling the lights into submission, screwing cup hooks into the wall and finally, finally hanging the damn things, which Alex will admit look pretty impressive when all is said and done. They really cast a sort-of romantic glow over the room, which. He’s trying very hard not to think about that part, because there’s a bottle of wine in the refrigerator and he spotted a box of condoms in one of the boxes of stuff Jack hauled into the bathroom earlier and he is so, so nervous about all of that. May is wrestling with the sheets, trying to get the fitted one onto the mattress without strangling herself with it.
“A little help?” she mutters.
“You know,” Alex says, “I feel like he just sent me in here to keep me out of the way.” He straightens out the offending sheet. “Pull on your side, that’s...” Together, they manage to dress the bed. Again, it’s impressive, and it’s making him nervous. This is really his place; he is going to live with his boyfriend and it’s going to be awesome. They are going to have sex in this bed, possibly tonight, and. Hell. Possibly every night. And May is showing no signs of wanting to tackle him to the floor and stab him with a coat hanger, or anything. He doesn’t doubt that she could. After all, she is a Barakat. They’re crazy-wild and stuff. He is somewhat disturbed at the lack of dust ruffle among his boyfriend’s bedding, though. There is going to be so much dust under the bed. “I swear to God, I am dragging that man to Bed, Bath and Beyond this weekend even if it kills him.”
May laughs. “You’re such a little house-husband, Gaskarth. Just wait until we do the other bedroom; then we can take him to IKEA and really have fun.” Alex squeals internally at the prospect of going to IKEA. He intends to get their new catalogue as soon as possible. It can live on the magazine rack in the bathroom. Along with, like, Better Homes and Gardens and oh God, he is such a house-husband. May is right.
“... There’s nothing wrong with my love of IKEA. It’s a nice store.”
After a few more hours of unpacking, everything is done. Rian and Zack shuffle off home and May hangs around a while, straightening things up and chastising her brother for his poor taste in everything. Once she’s gone, Jack comes to Alex, wraps his skinny arms around Alex’s waist, and sighs contentedly. “L’v you,” he mumbles in Alex’s ear.
“Love you too,” Alex breathes. He’s still not quite believing this. It is a lot to process in one day. But it’s easier with Jack’s arms around him, holding him. He would really like a glass of wine, maybe a little snuggling on the couch, and a lot of Jack. “C’n we open the wine now?” he asks, twisting around in Jack’s arms for a kiss.
Jack says, “Baby, we don’t have any wineglasses.” But a minute later and he’s holding the corkscrew in his hand, fiddling with it until Alex takes it away and does it with a practiced hand. He likes wine; it’s nice and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. They end up drinking it out of plastic cups - the red kind that’s generally used for beer at parties - and it does a lot to help Alex relax because, holy fuck, he’s nervous. Alone with Jack in their very own apartment, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he wants, of course, but he doesn’t quite know how to get that. What if Jack doesn’t... want to? Or, worse, what if Jack does and then he’s all... bad at it? All these worries swirl around in his head while they drink, snuggled up on the couch together under a blanket. Jack shifts slightly underneath him, presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. He says, “Tired, love?”
Alex nods - he feels warm, content, sleepy curled up against Jack’s chest. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” Jack rubs his sides affectionately, squeezes him, and they go to their shared bedroom for the first time. Alex isn’t sure what to do with himself - is he supposed to strip out of his clothes, let Jack do it for him? Does Jack even want to? The wine isn’t helping his nerves at all. Jack touches his waist lightly. “Hmm?” he purrs, leaning into the touch. For a second, he’s very glad he unpacked most of the bedroom boxes without May hovering over him. Jack pushes his t-shirt up with his fingers, grazes the skin underneath.
“Stop lookin’ so nervous,” Jack says. “I won’t bite, promise. Unless... Unless you want me to.” Before Alex can react - he’s blushing, he’s so blushing - Jack’s mouth is pressed against the curve of his neck, sucking softly. He can’t even think. “Hey, come on. It’s okay, swear to God. I’m just... I just love you a lot.” The feeling of lips on jaw is soothing, arousing; he’s starting to relax, so he feels okay to pull his shirt off and let Jack look at him. His nipples are hard, which is partly the fault of the frigid air in the apartment, partly the fault of the boyfriend with the half-guilty look on his face. Alex sits down gingerly at the edge of the mattress, pats the space beside him. This is their bed. Jack sheds his t-shirt and jeans, flops down on the other side of the bed.
Alex slithers out of his own jeans, curls up next to Jack, trying to ignore the anxious quiver of his lower lip. Jack kisses his forehead. “I want to,” he whispers. “Just, just so you know, I’ve... I’ve wanted to for a long time.” Their lips meet hesitantly, tentative, and it’s nervous at first. Alex presses himself against Jack, clinging to the shoulders that are so much broader than they were ten years ago, trying to suppress the little noises in the back of his throat as Jack’s tongue licks against his own. Everything feels like electricity - every touch, every fevered kiss, every brush of skin on skin as they kiss deeper and harder than ever before.
Jack pulls away from his mouth. “Love you,” he murmurs, kissing a trail down Alex’s neck. “Is this good, d’you...?” Under the glow of the tiny lights on the walls, he looks so beautiful.
“Yeah, yeah,” Alex replies absently, blissfully unaware of anything but the hot-wet feel of Jack’s mouth on his skin, the warm hand creeping up his thigh, the press of Jack against his hip. He can feel the tightness and pressure starting between his thighs; Jack palms at him through his boxers, sending hot-cold shivers all through his body. “Unh,” he says weakly, knowing that if they keep this pace he isn’t going to last more than five minutes. “I want you.”
There’s a pause as Jack inhales sharply and sits up. “Are you s-sure?” Jack says. He drags his nails over Alex’s chest lightly. “We don’t have to, not tonight... If you’re not ready...”
Alex says, “But I am ready.” He doesn’t know how to communicate all this desire - all this need - to Jack. It’s not just a sex thing, to him. It’s about feeling loved and needed and wanted, something that has been sorely lacking in his life of late. So when Jack slips out of his boxers, leaving nothing but lovely, soft skin, he’s relieved. He’s relieved when Jack kisses him, taking the time to undress him slowly, taking the time to get to know his body. They make out a while longer, touching and feeling and...
“Tell me what you need,” Jack says against his throat.
“Can we just...” Alex bats at him weakly, stretching until he can get at the box sitting next to the bed. “Hold on, I know it’s here somewhere,” he grumbles, finally producing what he’d been searching for. Jack’s eyes get very wide; he laughs shakily and pulls Alex to him, the hard press of his erection obvious against the older man’s thigh. “I, uh, I thought we might need this tonight.”
“You are the only person I know who would pack lube in the same box as Christmas lights,” Jack grins. “So how’re we doing this, am I...?” Alex nods, tiny and nervous and shaking. “Hey, ‘s okay. We’ll go slow, we’ll just.” He squeezes the tube, coating his fingers as he leans down for a kiss. In retrospect, Alex is glad to have had only one glass of wine, or he’d have passed out by now. Jack pushes one finger into him - he’s not expecting it and lets out a little squeak. It doesn’t hurt, he’s just surprised. He’s nervous as hell. What if he’s bad at it, what if it’s not... good? It has been so long for him - probably less for Jack, though he hasn’t asked - and it takes forever until he’s stretched and ready. “Hey,” Jack whispers. “You’re okay.”
“Yeah,” he whispers back, holding his breath as Jack pushes into him slowly. And Jack recognizes his discomfort, stays still for a moment and squeezes his shoulder affectionately.
Jack kisses him lightly and murmurs, “You need to relax, babe. I love you no matter what.”
And those, apparently, are the magic words that help him to stop tensing his muscles and relax. “Okay,” he says finally. Then it’s fine - better than fine - because Jack is inside him, moving gentle and slow, and every time Jack hits that spot he can’t help crying out, mumbling strings of obscenities and clinging to his boyfriend until the heat starts pooling between his legs and Jack is stroking him, breathing heavy and hard. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna...” There’s that moment where both of them hit their climax and still, nuzzling each other and touching until their breathing slows and Jack pulls out, looking sheepish.
“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Jack says. “That was... um.”
Alex says, “I’m taking you shopping this weekend because it really bothers me that we don’t have matching towels.” He rolls over, snuggling into Jack’s chest comfortably. “Oh, I love you too.”
“... You weren’t thinking about the towels while we were having sex, right?”