yours and mine - part iii-b
Friday, the last time they’ll see eachother for three weeks, Andrew’s decided to make it memorable.
They’d just gotten back from a shower. It was a long one, a hot one with the water burning their backs, Andrew’s hands running up Jesse’s side, tracing his curves; his hips, his ribs, his shoulders. He pressed kisses to Jesse’s neck, scraping his teeth over the skin until it bruised, and his stomach, too, scratching, biting and pinching.
He took one of Jesse’s feet and gently did a touch-up on the shaving of his legs - though Jesse’d done an impressive job, understandably, it wasn’t perfect. Once, he pressed down on the blade a little too hard, murmuring “Sorry, J-Baby,” when a bubbly read streak appeared on the skin in a way that said he wasn’t really sorry, but he didn’t miss the way Jesse’s cock responded to it even as he hissed. He filed that away in his brain as he kissed and licked the speck of blood before moving on.
He worked two wet fingers inside Jesse, teasing him, working him nice and open until Jesse was ready for him to fuck him right there, under the hot spray but he didn’t, just worked him until he was choking and nearly sobbing with desire.
Then, then. He pulled Jesse to him by his shoulders and then pressed down, pushing him to the floor until Jesse’s legs gave in and his knees smacked the shower floor. It hurt, but he didn’t complain because Andrew’s cock was right in his face.
He leaned right in but Andrew pushed him back with a hand on his forehead. “Did I tell you to do that?” he asked darkly, and when Jesse whimpered and shook his head no he declared “then don’t.”
Andrew brushed the tip of his cock over Jesse’s lips, smearing them with precome, teasing him until Jesse was twitching, gasping and choking, nearly sobbing, begging to have it and Andrew knew he had him right where he wanted him. Desperate and needy, for him and only him.
He fucked Jesse’s mouth then, roughly and without concern, forcing his head back against the hard tiled wall but Jesse loved it, practically drooled around Andrew’s cock as he took him as far as possible, swallowing the come when it spurted down his throat without warning. Then Andrew yanked him up and kissed him on his abused lips, pulling at his curls and the message was clear even without him saying “you’re mine, mine, all mine, Jesse.”
When they got back to the bed, he pinned Jesse down on his stomach and tanned his backside with the palm of his hand, just for the hell of it, watching Jesse’s bottom grow a deeper red, as Jesse moaned like a whore through the whole thing, obviously getting off on having his ass beat.
But he didn’t touch him.
Now they’ve been kissing for the better part of an hour until their tastes mixed together, not touching, until Jesse’s body’s gone loose and his eyes have gone dark with desire for something more. Jesse’s splayed out bare across the bed, fingers raking and curling through Andrew’s hair whining for more and groaning frustratedly as Andrew ignores his pleas. He’s aching, desperate to be touched, but Andrew hasn’t even brushed his cock since the episode in the shower, and it’s hard to the point that it’s painful but Andrew doesn’t even seem to notice this.
Andrew leans back, looking down at Jesse’s face as he traces his jawline with a knuckle. “Jess. I want to try something, will you let me?”
Jesse doesn’t even have to consider; he nods. He trusts Andrew fully, trusts him not to do anything that would hurt him. He’s not afraid of Andrew, but a shudder runs through him when Andrew comes back over to the bed with a handful of neckties for a completely different reason.
Andrew lifts one of Jesse’s wrists, looping the tie around it and looking down at him with concern. “This alright, Jes?”
Jesse nods furiously, breathing deeply as Andrew ties both wrists to the bedspread, tight enough to be borderline painful, secure enough for him to tug all he wants without coming free.
Andrew could do anything to him. Absolutely anything, and he would be helpless. He would have to take it. Even if he didn’t like it.
He likes the thought much more than he probably should. He thinks he’d do anything right now if Andrew would just let him come.
“Stoplight?”
“Green, green, green.” Jesse gives the ties an experimental tug and the binds don’t budge. Andrew’s fingers flutter teasingly over his hips and thighs and Jesse whimpers as he arches into his touch. He’s been hard since they lied down on the bed but Andrew appears to be indifferent to his discomfort. How long will he keep this up for? Andrew hasn’t even brushed his cock yet.
“You’re so beautiful, babe,” Andrew whispers and even now Jesse’s heart flutters. No one’s called him beautiful before and it’s also the first time Andrew’s called him ‘babe’. And for once he believes Andrew’s words.
“Unnh, Andrew.”
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“Touch me.”
“Tsk...” Andrew’s palm pops against the side of Jesse’s thigh “where are your manners, my pet?”
My pet. Maybe to another person it would sound degrading but Jesse takes the title as a major accomplishment. Andrew’s pet, that’s what he is. “Please touch me, Sir,” he whispers, and there’s no second-guessing or self-consciousness about addressing him that way. “I need it, I need it, please.”
“You don’t need it.”
“Want it. I’ve been good.”
“Oh, you have, Jess. But you know how to be good already. Where’s the challenge in that? We haven’t even gotten started yet. I can give you the best fucking orgasms of your life, Jess, but you gotta keep being good.”
Jesse groans.
“I wonder if I could make you come without even touching your cock.”
“I’m sure you could...”
Andrew’s thumb brushes over his hip bone and Jesse’s breath hitches, goosebumps blooming over the skin under Andrew’s warm hands, aware of Andrew’s eyes all over him even though his own are closed. He’s so open like this, stretched out, his body completely accessible for Andrew to use. Like in the shower, Andrew was taking what was his, using Jesse’s body like a toy, confident that he had him and Jesse loved it. He loves the rough side of Andrew as long as it’s followed up by his sweet, nurturing side.
“I want to try something else, Jes. Something else new. You’ll like it, I promise. Will you let me?”
“Oh, God, of course. Anything. Anything.”
Andrew smirks and shuffles back, sitting inbetween Jesse’s legs. Jesse watches him with bated breath, not sure what the hell he could be up to when Andrew nudges his thighs apart. “Relax, Jesse, baby,” he whispers and Jesse closes his eyes again, whimpering and sinking down against the pillows underneath him. Trust, trust.
Andrew cups Jesse’s ass-cheeks in his hands, each globe fitting perfectly in his palm, and squeezes. Jesse sinks his teeth into his lower lip as he feels Andrew spread them apart, stretching his hole and he nearly jumps out of his skin when Andrew’s tongue jabs at his hole.
“Oh-ohmygod!”
Andrew wraps his fingers around Jesse’s thighs, pressing into the skin hard enough to bruise, forcing him to keep still by shoving him down into the mattress. “Nnnn--!” Jesse’s high pitched squeals while Andrew circles his asshole are almost shameful, but he’s not showing any restraint right now. He pulls at the cuffs to no avail, wanting to bury his hands in Andrew’s temptingly soft hair, but they do not budge. All it gets him his skin rubbed red and raw, yet his he doesn’t even notice this. But every time Jesse’s almost there, Andrew stops, waiting for him to come down before he moves on, and the denial is worse every time.
“Andrew-w-w.... please...” Jesse finally sobs, heavy and dry, not able to take it anymore. Andrew finally takes it as the surrender he’s waiting for. He sits up some, brushing his thumb over Jesse’s cheek. When he looks into those blue eyes, he finds the surrender there, the I’m yours written across Jesse’s face, meaning it in every sense of the word.
“You can come now, Jesse.”
He ducks back down, lapping at Jesse’s clenching hole and it takes only moments. Jesse is practically convulsing, the waves of pleasure wracking his body, and Andrew knows he’d do anything to see that look on his face. Seeing Jesse finally get his release is enough to make him cream his own pants, digging his nails into Jesse’s ass with a groan.
oOo
Everything’s so much harder without him. Jesse finds himself checking his inbox every hour and then having to remind himself that there’s not going to be anything there. He’s got things he’s bursting to tell Andrew at the end of the day and finds himself disappointed again when he realizes that Andrew’s not going to be online. And he doesn’t want to bother him by calling him - he’s got to be busy. It’s an almost crushing fucking loneliness that he thinks is pretty ridiculous but he wants Andrew.
So he goes out to lunch with Justin on Friday, the day he’d normally be with Andrew, which isn’t anywhere near satisfying. They sit in the same coffee shop they always do, getting the same lattes and sitting at the same table. It’s like a tradition for them but all Jesse can think of is how it’s Friday and how much he wants to be on his way to Andrew’s house.
“You’re really missing him, aren’t you?”
“What?” Jesse’s sort of been staring out the window beside the table, listening to Justin talk about something he doesn’t care about, just thinking about Andrew. Wishing Andrew was here. Wishing he was there. Why couldn’t he go with him?
“Andrew. You’ve just been staring out the window for the past three minutes.”
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you just call him?”
Jesse sighs. “He’s not going to want to talk to me - he’s with his family.”
“Jesse. You’re dying to talk to him. Literally, I’ve never seen you like this. I’m afraid you’re actually going to die.”
“He’ll be back on Thursday.”
“You think you’re gonna last that long?”
Jesse looks down at the newspaper on the tabletop beneath him, frowning. “No,” he says honestly, running the pad of his index finger over the newsprint. He then pushes it away and shakes his head. “This is ridiculous.”
“What is?”
“This. Me being so… so fucking attached to him. I shouldn’t be missing him this much, should I? Is this ridiculous?”
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”
“How isn’t it ridiculous?”
“Jesse… can I say something, in all seriousness?”
“Of course.”
“I think you love him.”
Jesse blinks, twice, straightening in the chair. “Why do you think that?”
“Because you’re not denying it.”
oOo
“What’s that?”
“What-?”
Jesse’s in his kitchen with Emma the next day, Saturday, and he probably should have known not to wear a wifebeater, because Emma doesn’t miss anything and the marks on his shoulder aren’t really that faint either. She takes his wrist to pull him more under the light and turns him around, furrowing her brow at the back of his shoulder.
“Jesse, what…?”
“What, Em?”
“What happened to you here?”
“It’s just a bruise, it’s noth-“
“It’s quite a few bruises, Jesse. What happened to you?”
No one should ever piss Emma off. She’s got the emotional and physical capacity to really fuck someone up, especially when it comes to the people she loves being in danger. And Jesse’s one of the people she loves.
Jesse knows exactly what she’s looking at. He’d admired the half-circles of bruises left from Andrew’s fingertips in the mirror that morning, reaching back to press on them and groaning at the renewed ache. He knows they look misleading, too. He also doesn’t know how he’s going to explain this.
He tries to play dumb. “It’s nothing, Emma.”
“Jesse, this isn’t nothing. This is something. Is - is this from… Andrew?!”
“No! I mean - no!”
“Jesse, if he’s hurting you-“
“He’s not hurting me.” The answer comes out quickly, maybe a little too defensive. But it’s not a lie - Andrew’s not hurting him. There’s a difference between pain and hurt, and he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to explain that. Emma knows very limited details about the nature of their relationship and he knows she’s less than comfortable with it, so this is only going to add to that.
“Are these from him? Did he do this?”
Jesse’s quiet - he can’t lie outright.
“Jesse, he can’t-!”
“It’s not what you think, Em!”
“Then what is it? This is abuse, Jesse, he can’t hurt you like this. If he’s forcing you to-”
“It isn’t abuse, Emma.” Jesse turns around to face her again. He feels exposed, violated, having something revealed that she was never meant to see. Something that was supposed to be theirs - and only theirs. But she’s seen it and now she has to know the whole truth or she’s going to start accusing his boyfriend of being a criminal. He can’t run away from this. He knows she’s just a concerned friend. She doesn’t understand and he doesn’t know how to make her understand.
“How isn’t it-“
“It’s not abuse if I like it.” Jesse says the words quickly and then closes his eyes, balls his fists at his sides and waits for her reaction. She’s shocked into silence and he doesn’t want to see the look on her face.
“What?”
“I said ‘It’s not abuse if I like it’.” Now he’s just humiliated. This was never supposed to happen - Emma was never supposed to find this out and now he feels like a disgusting freak for what they do together.
“I know what you said. But - Jesse, look at me.” Jesse opens one eye and Emma gently takes his wrist, leads him over to the couch. They sit. Jesse’s still looking away and Emma has to repeat “look at me” to get him to comply. She lifts a hand and places her had on top of the bruises on Jesse’s shoulder; they don’t hurt unless you press on them. “’It’s not abuse unless you like it’. You like it?”
“I… y-yes.”
“Does he hit you?”
“No! No, Emma, it’s not like that…” Jesse puts his face in his hands, wishing he knew how to make her understand. Andrew is his world and he doesn’t want her to have a bad opinion of him. “He doesn’t hit me. We just... we kind of… get... rough.”
“You’re telling me that you like being physically hurt, Jesse, and that’s a little concerning.”
“It’s not concerning. It’s a perfectly legitimate and healthy sexual preference called masochism.”
“…Okay.” She leans back a little, lifting her eyebrows and trying to process this information. She’s been on the internet, she knows what it means. But Jesse is the last person she ever expected to be into that. “Jesse, when you told me you met him online - when you told me where you met him - that concerned me a little. And now you’re… he’s not forcing you into anything, is he? He’s not pushing your limits?”
“No, Em!” he whispers, looking her right in the face so she can see his truthfulness. “He’d never do that. I’d never let him do that. He doesn’t hurt me, Em, I promise you. Everything’s okay - it’s a hundred percent consensual.”
“Okay,” Emma sighs, pressing her thumb and forefinger to her forehead like talking about this is giving her a headache. “Well, you’re going to want to wear long sleeves, because other people might not understand so easily.”
oOo
On Friday, Jesse feels lonelier than he’s ever felt before, and that’s saying quite a bit. The only thing he’s able to think of for most of the day while he’s at work is how much he wants to be elsewhere, how much he desperately wishes he’d be able to have Andrew’s smiling face to look forward to seeing when he gets off.
But when he leaves, it’s back to his ramshackle apartment with the half-molded carpet and cracked tile in the bathroom and a dinner that comes out of a plastic bowl. He shovels the tasteless food into his mouth, plopping down on the old couch beside Charlemagne, feeding him little morsels of chicken while he scarfs down potatoes and watery gravy. The cat, aware of his discomfort, rubs his head against his side and Jesse sighs as he plays with his pet’s ears.
He didn’t want to admit it to himself, didn’t have to admit it until now, that he’s really attached to Andrew. Even if they haven’t done much, even if they’ve just fucked and cuddled a few times, Jesse’s depended on it. Andrew’s been something that, for the past couple of months is always there, every Friday and he’s counted on that as a sort of rock.
Andrew’s not like anyone else he’s ever met. First, there’s that Andrew can give him the best fucking orgasms he’s ever had, but it isn’t just that. Andrew treats him like a treasure, like he’s wanted. Cared about. Andrew’s arms are the only place that he’s safe and when he can’t count on that to be there...
He gets attached easily. He’s always known that about himself and it’s why he pulls away from people, to spare himself that hurt. It’s why he sleeps around, or used to, to get that feeling of being desired by someone without the emotional connection that would only leave him hurt.
He’s fucking lonely. Lonelier than ever, like a black hole swallowing him right up until he wishes he could just sink down into the depths of the earth. It physically hurts, and he can’t will the feeling away.
He used to see a therapist, to help him with these kinds of episodes, but he can’t afford one anymore, so he’s resorted to other methods.
After a couple hours in the apartment, it feels like the walls are closing in on him and he can’t take it anymore. Forgetting the trash on the couch, he leaves.
**
He doesn’t taste the alcohol. He just knows that it’s enough to numb him, to smooth out a bit some of the jagged edges of his emotions. He feels the buzz seep through his body, feels a bit of that weight lifted off his shoulders and when the drink’s gone, he orders another. And another, until the loneliness slips away because he can’t feel anything.
He hears someone say his name - because he’s pretty well known at this club, or at least he used to be. ‘Haven’t seen you here in a while,’ the guy says, or something like it and Jesse probably knows him but he’s too drunk to properly recognize him.
He doesn’t even know who he goes into the bathroom stall with. He forces himself not to think about Andrew, he just knows that the feeling of being taken drowns out everything else.
Most of it.