yours and mine - part iii-a
It’s easy, almost too easy, for Jesse to submit. It probably shouldn’t be this easy and he wonders what it says about him, but what his brain doesn’t want, what his body tries to fight, his heart clearly craves and what he can’t fully do on his own, Andrew gives him that last little push and it’s all he needs. A month goes by just like that, eight days spent with Andrew and four nights pressed back against his chest while he sleeps.
Usually, before they go to bed, they’ll talk for a while, about anything that’s on their minds. By now, Jesse doesn’t have any filters with Andrew and vice-versa. He’s never been able to trust someone like he trusts Andrew, to be so completely comfortable and happy with someone.
So on Friday, when Jesse’s had a horrendously exhausting week and all he wants to do is block out the world with Andrew, the moment the door’s closed behind them he sinks down to his knees, wrapping his arms around Andrew’s legs and pressing his face into his thigh. Andrew cradles Jesse’s head, running his hands through his hair and Jesse finally lets himself relax, guard slipping away.
Andrew’s not completely oblivious to the fact that Jesse has it pretty rough. Never had much money growing up, was never really able to escape the bad part of the city. He struggles to get by, in his apartment that Andrew’s never seen but that Jesse assures him is nothing he’d be interested in, and Andrew truly wishes to help him but he doesn’t want to be rude. He knows Jesse writes for a magazine but it doesn’t pay much, and he sees how Jesse wolfs down his food when he comes to eat (which doesn’t bother him, as he loves being a mother). It makes his heart hurt, but how do you bring up that kind of thing? The one time he offere to loan Jesse some money when he was having trouble paying his rent, Jesse vehemently declined, and so he hasn’t brought it up again.
“Jes, babe, c’mon,” Andrew murmurs, nudging Jesse under the arm and he pushes himself up with a sigh, though he already feels much better, reassured that he and Andrew’s connection is something he can’t lose.
In the bedroom, Andrew sits on the bed and Jesse’s back on his knees, hiding his face in Andrew’s lap as Andrew runs his fingers through the mess of tangled hair until it’s smooth again. Seeing Jesse distressed breaks his heart, and the urge to protect him is almost overwhelming, to push away anything in the world that could possibly hurt him and just keep him for himself. He winds up falling asleep there and Andrew doesn’t mind at all; he flips the television on mute, watching the news with subtitles until Jesse starts to stir again, about two hours later. Andrew’s leg is asleep from the weight of Jesse’s head, but he hasn’t moved.
“Good evening, love, did you have a nice rest?”
“Yeah...” Jesse blinks his eyes open in the most adorable way, shaking his curls. It’s hard to believe that this is the same boy he got moaning like a filthy whore just one week ago. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and grins at Andrew. “Sorry. I’m... I’ve been so tired.”
“Do you sleep at night?”
“Only when I’m with you.”
Andrew’s heart flutters. He wants to wrap Jesse up in his arms and never, ever let him go. Jesse leans back and yawns, stretching his arms and moving to get up.
But he can’t - Andrew pushes down on his shoulder, pressing him back into the floor. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I - I have to...”
“You have to what? I didn’t say you could go anywhere.”
“I have to pee, Andrew!”
Andrew presses on the back of Jesse’s skull, holding his head against his leg with a small amount of force. “I didn’t say you could.”
“I-I didn’t know I had to ask...”
“You do from now on. And you’re going to wait.”
“Why?”
Jesse regrets the question the moment it’s out and Andrew pulls him up a bit, by the back of his shirt, just far enough to smack him across the ass. “Because I said so.” He knows Andrew doesn’t have to be a reason, that just being in control is motivation enough.
“Drew... I have to go.”
“And you’ll wait. If you soil my carpet, though, you’ll regret it.”
Jesse’s never had anyone tell him when he can and can’t go to the bathroom - even in school, he never asked, just left (which he always got in trouble for, but he wasn't going to ask to pee). He feels like a child, and as his face flushes in shame he hides it in the side of the bed. He knows what this is - Andrew testing his will to obey. Humiliating him, proving his dominance. There’s noting stopping him from getting up and sauntering off to the bathroom, laughing in Andrew’s face. No real loss of autonomy here.
Nothing physically, at least. He’s not being physically restrained. He hasn’t been threatened. But if Andrew wants him to stay, he’ll damn well stay. They both know it, the undeniable control Andrew has over him already and Jesse himself doesn’t even know why, why he lets Andrew tell him what to do, make him do these demeaning things.
(Maybe because the way Andrew does it, they don’t feel demeaning, even when he’s being rough. Even when he’s telling him he can't go pee. They make him feel wanted, and they make him feel secure; the notion that if he messes up, he isn’t accountable, because Andrew will fix it. He’ll never lose Andrew as long as he plays his role. While he knows Andrew loves him, the extra security blanket is something he’s never had before).
It just feels good and right. But he already knows he’d never do this with anyone else. If (God forbid) he and Andrew were to split, he’d never try this again.
“How long do I have to wait?”
“As long as I want you to.” Andrew looks at the alarm clock on the bedside table, the floating green numbers. “The sooner you close your mouth, the sooner you can get up.”
So Jesse waits. He hides his face in the covers on the bed, though Andrew can see the red creeping up his neck. He feels the pressure on his bladder and when he whimpers, Andrew presses his fingers down on the back of his neck, hard, a warning touch that makes him gulp. "You need to be quiet, Jesse.”
He gives a final grunt and turns his head to look up at Andrew with the best puppy-dog eyes he can muster, but Andrew only smiles, unaffected. “That’s not going to work. The only thing that’ll make me let you up is you doing what I say.”
I am, Jesse’s about to reply, but that wouldn’t be doing what Andrew says. So he purses his lips, focuses his attention on a picture on the wall across the room, trying not to think about the pain in his bladder, the trembling of his legs, getting worse with each passing moment.
Andrew finally gives the word, when he’s afraid he’s going to wet himself: "you may go."
Jesse leaps unsteadily to his feet, bounding to the en-suite bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Sweet relief.
When he comes back out, Andrew pulls him into a hug. "That was good, Jess," he whispers. "So, so good."
oOo
Jesse’s woken up in some time in the night, after falling asleep with Andrew as usual, but he’s being roused by Andrew’s hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently, their bodies pressed together. “Andrew...?” he’s concerned, worried for a moment, before he hears the gentle click and feels the cool liquid spreading over his hole. “Andrew.”
“Shh,” Andrew coos, and Jesse’s too exhausted to do anything, even with the nap he took earlier, so he groggily buries his face in the pillow again. It smells like Andrew.
Andrew doesn’t stretch him, instead just uses the lube generously and pushes in slowly, gradually. Jesse presses back against him, letting a single groan escape from his lips with the familiar feeling of being so full. He’s never had sex before that’s quite like sex with Andrew. Nothing else is quite as good. (He tells himself it’s just because Andrew is damn good in bed. But he still knows there’s more to it than that).
It takes a few minutes, Andrew moving slow and careful, so slowly that Jesse doesn’t even really wake up, until their thighs settle together and Andrew leans back to grip his hips, hands warm. Jesse obligingly clenches his ass and Andrew groans, choked. “Jesse, oh, fuck. You’re so tight, so tight, baby...” The room’s pitch-dark; Jesse can only feel Andrew inside him, hear his voice above him.
“Yeah? Fuck me, Drew.” Jesse’s words are muffled by the pillow, but Andrew does as he says, and moves his hips with slow, blissful thrusts. He must have woken up from some sort of dream, Jesse muses, and the thought makes him feel proud. He’s still too sleepy to participate, but Andrew doesn’t seem to mind and Jesse doesn’t mind being used. His body opens easily for Andrew’s cock, thrusts getting faster, Andrew’s breath above him becoming sharp and ragged. He’s close, and Jesse pushes his ass back to meet him a few times.
“Come on, come inside me,” he growls, clenching his ass. “I’m yours, Andrew - sir.”
“God, yes, you are-” Andrew fists Jesse’s curls, thrusts two more times before he’s coming, cursing and leaning down over Jesse’s back.
Jesse patiently allows Andrew to come down from the high and remove himself. Then Andrew pulls him back into his arms, intertwining their limbs. Both of them are even more tired now, and the feeling of Andrew’s arms and the cum dripping out of his ass is a comfort to Jesse as he falls back into sleep.
**
To make them official, and easy to keep track of, Andrew writes each of Jesse's rules in a small notebook, and they both sign their initials after each one.
It’s an easy list to master; only four so far. They write it that night, sitting against the headboard, discussing, deciding to just start with these few, get used to them. Seeing them written out like this... it feels so much more real, purposeful. Jesse, all evening, has been at an odd sense of peace with himself, as if today they somehow crossed a line. And it feels good.
oOo
“England?”
“For three weeks. I’ve got to visit my parents, and my grandmother - to be honest, I don’t think she has much time left.”
“When are you leaving?”
“A week from Tuesday. Jes, love, I’m so, so sorry, but it just came up - my mother and father called me the other night insisting I come to see them immediately. And I do miss them. I try to see them at least a few times a year.”
Jesse can’t be mad at him, of course. He’s saddened, though. And jealous, jealous of the people that will get Andrew all to themselves for three weeks and take away the once-a-week time he has with him. In fact, the amount of negative feelings he has towards his news surprises him. He pictures Andrew out laughing and gallivanting about the streets of London without him and the image doesn’t sit well with him.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I understand completely, it isn’t your fault. I…” he cuts himself off; he doesn’t want to admit it.
“You what?”
“Nothing.”
“Jesse, you what?”
“…I’llmissyou.”
“Aw, Jess….” Andrew sighs, his voice whispered and warm through the telephone. “I’m gonna miss you, too, love. I’m sorry, I am. If I could take you, I would.”
Could you? Jesse wants to ask but he knows that’s an unreasonable request because it’s Andrew’s family and he doesn’t want to intrude. But the thought of Andrew being gone suddenly makes him feel so desperately alone. And worried - worried that something will change while Andrew’s gone, that the absence of Jesse in Andrew’s life for that time will make Andrew change his mind, come back and not want him anymore. He doesn’t like the thought of Andrew being with other people, so far away from him, as ridiculous and overly-jealous as that is.
“No, no, I understand… family and all. But… I can still see you on Friday? This Friday?”
“Of course, Jes. I’m looking forward to that.”
Jesse smiles a little, slightly reassured by the nickname. Jes. He’s Andrew’s Jes and Andrew wouldn’t desert him. “And Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
“You can touch yourself while I’m gone.”
Oh. Of course. Because that was his biggest concern.
oOo
on to part b