Fic: you don't have to put on the red light, part 15
Title: you don't have to put on the red light
Part 15: wonderland
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: NC17 - BIG TIME.
Summary: Bret hires Jemaine to be his ‘companion’.
Disclaimer: I do not own the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them
Notes: *phew* Here it is AT LAST! The end of my EPIC! And I should have the epilogue up later tonight! :-) And I am not lying when I say it is LONG (words: 8,270). This was also, um, my first time actually tackling the full on gay sex…so…hopefully not too terrible. I also want to thank all of you who have read this entire thing - your feedback is greatly appreciated and your love is returned a hundred fold!
Back to: Part 14, Part 13, Part 12, Part 11, Part 10, Part 9, Part 8, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5, Part 4, Part 3, Part 2, Part 1
The front door of Bret and Jemaine’s apartment burst open loudly to reveal a drenched and wild-eyed Jemaine, his mouth open, words ready. He blinked into the darkness of the apartment, feeling a bit foolish now, as there was no one to marvel over his dramatic entrance.
This was not how he had pictured this happening.
He had imagined bursting in to find Bret waiting for him on the couch. He had imagined striding up to him and laying it all out for him. He had imagined Bret rising up from the couch at his words and their embracing. He had not, however, imagined the reality that faced him now, which was a dark, possibly empty, apartment, no Bret in sight.
Frowning sulkily, he shut the door and rubbed his hands apprehensively along his soaking wet jeans. The heat wave in New York had finally broken tonight, the rain a welcome, if not a tad overwhelming, phenomenon. Unfortunately, it had caused Jemaine to have to run (and he did, in point of fact, run) several blocks through the downpour, saturating him entirely.
His shoes squeaked as he wrapped his arms around himself. He had spent all this time being so unbearably hot that it was almost unusual to be cold again. But cold he was, and the more he moved about, the more unsettled he became.
Where was Bret?
Jemaine walked over towards the couch and almost tripped over a large pile of…something. He looked down with a frown and as his eyes became more adjusted to the dark, light only filtering in from the streetlamps outside, he noticed that he had bumped into a large pile of luggage.
He looked at the luggage in confusion when suddenly an idea formed in his mind, making his throat squeeze tight.
This luggage…it looked familiar.
It looked like the same luggage Bret had used when they had moved from New Zealand to here. In fact, the more Jemaine looked at the trunks and bags, the more certain he became that these were indeed Bret’s. Bret had been…packing. Why would he be packing?
Jemaine swallowed painfully and looked towards the bedroom. The door was, oddly, closed and he walked over to it. He pressed a hand to the door, almost scared to open it, scared to see two empty beds on the other side.
Stirring up what little courage he had, he opened the door and felt awash in relief when he saw Bret sleeping soundly in his bed. Still…Bret’s luggage loomed behind him in the dark like a monster waiting to feed.
Jemaine’s straightened his shoulders, standing tall. No. He was not going to let that stop him. He wasn’t going to let anything stop him. He strode over to Bret’s bed confidently and shook him, “Bret.”
Bret answered with a snore.
“Bret. Wake up.”
Bret snorted and opened his eyes, blinking blearily, “….J’maine?”
“That’s right. Come on,” Jemaine took hold of Bret’s shoulders and helped him sit up, voice urgent, “Come on, come on, man,”
Bret yawned sleepily, only half conscious, “All right…all right, just…give me a minute,”
“Don’t have a minute, come on, come on,” Jemaine urged and practically propelled Bret out into the living room. He deposited him on the couch and quickly went about turning on all the lights.
Bret winced against the brightness and Jemaine rubbed his hands together, pleased, “Okay. Good. Going try this again.”
Jemaine smoothly exited the apartment and Bret merely yawned again, still blinking as he adjusted to the lights. The front door was once more loudly thrust open as Jemaine strode in a second time, “Bret! I have something to tell you!”
Bret turned his head slowly, voice quiet as he became more awake, “Yeah?”
“Yeah! Yes,” Jemaine came over to stand in front of him, nerves setting in as his imaginary entrance and declaration really hadn’t manifested any further past this point, “Yes…yes…”
Bret just stared at him, waiting. Jemaine didn’t elaborate, so Bret offered helpfully, “You…wanted to tell me something?”
“Yes, um,” Jemaine cleared his throat and he dropped down to his knees in front of Bret, “Bret, I’ve…I’ve realized something tonight. Something important and life changing and-and it involves you and me and…I have to tell you, and…well, I mean, first I should, you know,” Jemaine had never done this before, so the words seemed alien on his tongue, “apologize for-for earlier so, so sorry about that-”
“Okay,” Bret drew out, not sure where this was going.
“Okay, well, so, yes, sorry and - I um, I realized, I um, it’s that, you see, the thing is,” Jemaine struggled with his words, not sure how to continue and really, the adrenaline was wearing off and the more he knelt here the more he realized he was wet and cold and not entirely sober yet.
His stomach felt like it had a large lead weight in it and he wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he might throw up soon, his lungs starting to burn from the run here. Not to mention his aching jaw, but that was another story…
Still, he looked at Bret and, more importantly, Bret’s luggage and knew he had to continue no matter what the cost, so he did, stumbling over his words, “Bret, love is - love is, well, love is bad guys - I mean, no, it’s-it’s not bad guys or-or good guys or endings and it’s not perfect but it can rock and it can - maybe it can, it, um, do you know what I mean?”
Bret frowned, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “Mmm, no, sorry, I don’t-I don’t follow. At all. And what happened to your face? You chin is bleeding and you-you smell like a brewery. And a cigar factory.”
Jemaine frowned, looking down at his clothes, “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And - and sort of a wet one, at that.”
“So…a wet brewery inside a cigar factory?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Huh.”
There was a silence and then Jemaine blinked, his mind clicking back on track, “Look, that…it-it doesn’t matter. What matters is, is what I’m trying to say.”
“What-what are you trying to say?”
“I don’t…Kelly said it so much better than I did.”
“Who?”
“Kel-Miss Adams, from the - book fair, ran into her,” Jemaine’s voice faded off into mumbles and Bret shook his head, annoyed, “Yeah, well, look, Jemaine, this has been - something. But, I was sleeping and…think I’d like to go back to that. Got-got a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Jemaine breathed.
Bret looked at his luggage then looked at Jemaine, face serious, and Jemaine felt his heart thump painfully in his chest. The cold seemed to get worse as he spoke, “You can’t be…you aren’t…”
Bret shook his head, sighing heavily, “Jemaine,” then, unable to think of anything else, he said again, “Jemaine.”
“Bret…”
“I’m…tired. I’m-I’m going to go back to bed.”
“No, Bret…”
“Night,” Bret got to his feet and Jemaine shot to his own, standing in front of him, face desperate as he said forcefully, “I love you.”
Bret blinked, head rearing back slightly, “Wh-what?”
Jemaine licked his lips and reached out a hand as if to touch him. He drew it back shakily, voice breaking as he looked down at his feet, eyes darting over Bret’s luggage, “I love you.”
Bret didn’t say anything and Jemaine took in a deep breath, lifting his head and looking in his friend’s eyes, even as hard as it was for him to do so, every instinct in him wanting to look away as his fear drummed through him at full force, “I love you, Bret.”
Bret looked back at him, face unreadable and Jemaine suddenly remembered something, and he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out the hundred dollar bill, “Here. I - I didn’t spend it…I didn’t want to. I…I know how this started, Bret and, again, it’s, it’s weird to say ‘cause I never…but…I’m…sorry. I didn’t…the way things happened it…it wasn’t how I wanted it and I don’t want this money. Not anymore. I want…I want…it’s just…”
Jemaine found he was shaking now, trembling uncontrollably as he kept looking in Bret’s eyes and Bret’s face was such a mask, like it had been earlier that day. A terrible, frightening mask. Emotionless and indecipherable. But he pressed on. He had to press on. The luggage was right there. Just out of the corner of his eye. And tomorrow, tomorrow…tomorrow seemed even closer.
Jemaine’s mind flashed to how the apartment had been when he had entered. Dark and empty. Alone. Alone.
Jemaine remembered something else and reached into his pocket again, “There’s this…too…it’s-it’s for you…”
Bret looked down at Jemaine’s outstretched hand to see a large rock resting in his palm. He took it hesitantly, “A rock?”
“It’s an…you know…an egg. I found it. Or, you know, actually, I tripped over it when I ran here and I landed on my chin and yeah, you know I noticed earlier, I should, you could maybe…give me a second, ‘cause I think my mouth might be filling up with blood,” Jemaine paused and walked over to the kitchen sink. He spat out and drank from the tap a minute before returning over to Bret, rubbing an arm gingerly over his mouth.
“Ah, yes, better…so, where was-? Oh! Yes, Bret…I love you.”
Bret just kept looking at Jemaine. Taking in his soaking wet clothes and his tousled dark hair. His glasses were beaded with water and his eyes looked glassy and bloodshot. The bruise under his one eye looked swollen and unhappy and his scrapped chin looked just as bad.
Bret sighed, shoulders slumping as he shook his head, “So that’s it, then? You come in here, tell me you love me and give me a rock and that’s supposed to fix everything? Make it all better?”
Jemaine felt his heart sink, “No. Not-not everything, but…Bret…”
Bret felt even more exhausted as he spoke, voice dry, “Jemaine…it’s not so simple.”
“I know that-”
“Do you?” Bret cut off, voice sharp, “I thought,” Bret shook his head, anger settling in as he spoke again, “fuck, I thought I was using you. And turns out you were the one who - you…you made me look like…feel like…a fucking idiot.”
“No-” Jemaine breathed, shaking his head adamantly.
“Yes, Jemaine,” Bret stressed, “I was so worried about hurting you and turns out you were just…god, you’re such a dickhead!”
“I…I know. I know I was,” Jemaine admitted, voice coming out sort of choked, “But Bret…please I-”
“No, Jemaine, don’t-don’t say it…doesn’t…it’s no good.”
Jemaine felt his bottom lip sort of quivering and he bit it to make it stop. This wasn’t going the way he thought it would at all. He wasn’t doing this right. He tried again, “Bret…”
“You come in here and tell me you love me,” Bret shook his head again, voice hard, unforgiving as he said, “Well, I don’t. I don’t love you.”
Jemaine stepped away from Bret, shaking his head in disbelief; Bret noticed it but said again, “I don’t love you, Jemaine.”
“No,” Jemaine breathed and stepped back towards him, “I don’t…don’t believe you.”
“Well,” Bret let out a joyless laugh, “It’s true. I don’t...and this whole thing…it-it was a mistake. I mean I’m straight, you’re straight. This isn’t…this isn’t who we are and it was foolish to think…it was just-just something that happened. We should just…just forget it.”
“Bret, don’t…”
Bret shook his head, pressed his hands to his eyes a moment before running them through his hair, when he spoke he sounded so serious, so mature, so unlike himself, “It’ll be better this way. You’ll see, you just…you just think you’re in love with me and you’ll…you know, you’ll get over it and I’ll…”
“Bret, I don’t just think it, I know it-”
“No, you don’t, you don’t…don’t know a thing like that and even if…you’re drunk and confused.”
“I’m not.”
“You are, Jemaine, this’ll…it’ll…hell, it’s all ready ruined the band. And the friendship and the…we can’t even…I don’t even think we can come back from this. I think it might be-” As Bret spoke this last part, Jemaine found himself growing more panic-stricken and his words layered over top of Bret’s as he shook his head, hissing, “Don’t you say that!” even as Bret said the horrible word, “-over.”
Bret took in a shuddering breath, ignoring Jemaine as he said hollowly, “Things…end, Jemaine. It’s not even really…you know, your fault. Would’ve-would’ve happened…would’ve ended eventually…”
Jemaine just kept shaking his head, speechless as Bret said quietly, “Things change, people change…we wouldn’t…we can’t-can’t do this forever. We…didn’t make it as a band. We didn’t even make it as…and even if we had…even if we had, it would have…one of us or both of us…we would have found a girl and gotten married and had babies and it would have been…over. It’s…’s over now, regardless, so-”
“It’s not over,” Jemaine whined, “Stop saying that!”
“Just,” Bret shrugged simply, “It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not,” Jemaine said steely and his hand shot out, squeezing Bret’s arm hard, “It’s not…not unless you give up. Which-which you are and you need to…I’m not giving up! So you can’t-you can’t-”
“Jemaine-”
“No, shut up!” Jemaine had never sounded this angry with Bret before and Bret’s vision snapped up to Jemaine’s eyes, startled by the raw emotion he saw there, “You always do this, Bret, you always give up and quit and this time I won’t-I won’t let you. I won’t!”
Bret tried to shrug out of Jemaine’s grip, ignoring the fact that he had started trembling, his words warbling out of him, “Can’t…you can’t stop me. How can you-”
“I love you,” Jemaine said again firmly, “I love you.”
Bret gasped, “‘S…no good, doesn’t-doesn’t…matter-”
“It does. I love you, Bret McClegnie! Whether it's right or wrong, whether it’s gay or straight…um, ‘s mostly gay, but I mean, I love you. I love you and I’m completely helpless against it. And it-it scares me. It does…a little bit…but-but it…it doesn’t scare me as much as the idea of-of not being in love with you. Of not-not having you anymore.”
Bret couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe and Jemaine’s grip loosened on his arm, releasing it. Bret rubbed the spot where Jemaine had been clutching him and he found his voice, whispering hesitatingly, “Jemaine…even-even if…it would never work. You’d…you’re so…selfish and grumpy and moody and hot and then cold and…you’d be a terrible boyfriend…just terrible. You’re forgetful and jealous and you wouldn’t trust me and…it wouldn’t…it wouldn’t last.”
“Don’t know unless we try.”
Bret was the one shaking his head now, ignoring the fact that Jemaine was slowly edging closer and closer to him, “We can’t. We can’t…be a…mistake…”
“Bret…please,” And suddenly something dawned on Jemaine and he said softly, “Bret…don’t-don’t wait on this one.”
Bret looked at him, stunned, the ludicrousness of those words in combination with the situation causing one corner of his lips to jerk slightly upward, “You…you didn’t…you didn’t just…”
Jemaine cupped Bret’s face in his hands, “It’s…it’s a stupid catchphrase…but…it works.”
Bret breathed out, the sound painful, and he blinked, eyes watering, “This is…a bad idea.”
Jemaine shrugged, “Yeah. Maybe. But…I love you.”
Bret closed his eyes tight, one tear edging out, “Jemaine, I don’t…”
“Yes, you do,” Jemaine breathed, his mouth getting closer to Bret’s, “And that…it’s…’s okay.”
Bret let out a squeak and then Jemaine’s mouth was covering his, hot and sweet and Bret whimpered, his hands coming to life to cradle Jemaine’s head, fingers threading through his hair. Jemaine drew back and kissed his nose and his forehead and then his lips again, holding him close, “…guess…guess I finally caught you.”
Bret didn’t know why, but he found himself laughing uncontrollably as Jemaine kissed him again hungrily. Bret pulled back, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, no I just…I’ve lost my mind is all.”
“We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad….”
“We’re in Wonderland, that it?”
“I don’t know…” Jemaine paused, thinking words he thought too silly to say aloud. Then again, he had said a lot of things now that were potentially embarrassing so he decided to just roll with it, “I know I do feel wonderful right now,” Jemaine kissed him again, adding softly against his lips, “Better than I’ve felt in a long time…”
Bret’s lips were trembling, because he was caught up in a wave of emotions that rolled over one another - love, hope, fear - and he tried to settle himself on the dry land of rationality, saying wryly, “Maybe I just…I didn’t want to go stay at Jim’s place, that’s all.”
Jemaine pulled away, frowning, “Jim’s place?”
Bret kicked a foot towards his luggage and Jemaine raised his eyebrows. Bret sighed, “Was…only going to be temporary. ‘Till I found my own place. I mean…can’t-can’t stay with Dave, much less Mel. And Murray gropes people in his sleep so…you know, Jim would have let me…”
“Jim is a dick.”
“True.”
“And you’re mine.”
Bret was a bit surprised by the conclusive tone, “Am I?”
Jemaine nodded firmly, jerking his head towards the couch where the money and the rock rested, “I gave you your money back…business concluded…I’m my own man, now.”
“Hmm, but I’m not mine?”
“No, you’re your own man too, you just…you’re just mine too now. And I’m yours and…that’s…that’s how it works. I think.”
“Huh,” Bret sat on the couch, hefting up the rock in one hand, “So…this?”
Jemaine rubbed a hand at the back of his neck as he sat down next to Bret, “I did trip over it. Seemed…sort of kismet. What with the money and all…could be an egg though.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe. It is pretty big. Maybe it’s got a…you know, a penguin in there. Or a platypus. Do platypuses come from eggs?”
“Think so.”
“Oh, maybe…an ET.”
“Gah!” Bret put the rock aside as if it was hot, crossing his arms as he shivered, “Now I’m going to have nightmares again.”
Jemaine put an arm around him, “Don’t worry. I’ll…take care of you.”
Bret looked at Jemaine’s arm around him and blushed, “Um. This is…weird.”
“What is?”
“Us…this.”
Jemaine shrugged, “Seems okay to me.”
“You’re still drunk.”
“Not drunk.”
“Again, you smell like a brewery.”
“Okay, well, I did run through the rain. Tends to sober you up a bit.”
“Mm, can imagine,” Bret sat up straighter and turned to face Jemaine, 'tsking' as he took in his appearance again, “You’re a mess. We should…fix you up.”
“I’m all right.”
“Jemaine, you look like shit.”
“You cursed.”
“There’s…there was no other word for it.” Bret said with some shame and he got to his feet, “Come on, let’s go clean you up a bit.”
He held out his hand and Jemaine took it. Bret thought this would take more getting used to, but leading Jemaine to the bathroom by hand seemed almost second nature. Once in the bathroom he cleaned up Jemaine’s scrape and put on a band aid, kissing it gently, adding softly, “Supposed to kiss it to make it get better.”
“Really? ‘Cause, you know, I also scrapped my-”
“Stop it,” Bret said with a tiny grin, shaking his head, he noted the spot under Jemaine’s eye and reached fingers towards it gingerly, “Did I…really do that?”
Jemaine just nodded and Bret frowned. Then, remembering something, he lifted up one of his hands for inspection. His knuckles looked about as bad as Jemaine’s face did, and he said conspiratorially, “At least this wasn’t for nothing then…hurts.”
Jemaine took his hand, inspecting the knuckles. He brushed his lips over them lightly, not wanting to put on any pressure that would hurt, whispering against his skin, “Kiss to make it better.”
Bret felt himself blushing as he gently drew his hand away. He regarded Jemaine’s sopping clothes with a sigh, “Come on; better get you out of those wet clothes.”
“Okay!” Jemaine said eagerly, but his enthusiasm wore off as it became more obvious that removing his wet clothes was going to be more of a cumbersome task than a fun one.
Once his clothes were off, he went for Bret but Bret cut him off, handing him pajama bottoms and a white shirt, “Here. Put this on. You should take a shower, but you probably need sleep more, so it can wait a night…”
“…what about-”
“That can wait too,” Bret admonished, and then added softly, “A lot more talk as well.”
“…more talk?”
“…haven’t quite forgiven you, yet.”
“Aw! Come on!”
“…you’ll have to work for it.”
Jemaine frowned, a thought occurring to him sluggishly, as his fatigue really began to settle in, “You…teasing me?”
Bret ignored the question, “Bed.”
“Not unless you’re getting in it with me.”
Bret rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Of course I am, you dork.”
“…not a dork.” Jemaine added slowly as he crawled into Bret’s bed. The warmth and smell were comforting and he was right on the edge of sleep as Bret turned off the lights and cuddled in next to him.
Right before he fell off into unconsciousness, Jemaine heard Bret’s voice, soft and shaky with emotion, “Jemaine…”
Jemaine was too tied to answer but Bret continued anyway, “…I love you…”
Jemaine fell asleep with a smile on his face.
88888888888
“...lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. `Wake up, Alice dear!' said her sister; `Why, what a long sleep you've had!'”
The soft spoken words slowly filtered into Jemaine’s ears and he twitched where he lay. Someone was reading to him and, as he came into consciousness, he noted with a frown that, while the voice speaking to him was sweet, it was the only thing about his newfound wakefulness that was so. His head ached and his face felt raw and stiff.
“’Oh, I've had such a curious dream!' said Alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, `It WAS a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late.' So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been….”
At these words, Jemaine wondered if he wasn’t dreaming and he opened his eyes, only to quickly seal them shut again. The light had been blinding and it had caused his mind to pound painfully.
“But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream…” the voice continued, and Jemaine belatedly realized it was Bret.
Forcing his eyes to open again, Jemaine adjusted as best as he could to the light, groaning softly under his breath. He was buried under a sea of messy blankets and sheets. Bret sat across from him in a chair he had obviously brought in from the kitchen, his attention directed on the book in his hands.
“…the long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by--the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool--she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution…”
“…Bret?” Jemaine managed weakly.
Bret shut the book and smiled shyly, “Morning.”
Jemaine groaned again, shutting his eyes again and pressing a hand over them. Bret spoke again, “How’re you doing?”
“Head…hurts,” Jemaine’s voice cracked as he licked his lips, another groan escaping him as his head suddenly throbbed, as if to drive the point home. Bret murmured soothingly and reached towards the night table. He grabbed the cup of water and two aspirin he had laid out earlier when he first got up and handed them to Jemaine, “Thought you might need these.”
Jemaine sat up hesitantly and took them. He looked at Bret bashfully as a silence descended. It took a few minutes for him to work up the nerve to break it, only managing a, “So…”
“So.”
“…last night. I, um, said a lot.”
“Yeah,” Bret agreed with a timid smile, “I think you said more to me last night than you’ve said to me in my entire time knowing you.”
“Um…yes. Drinking…’parently does that…makes talking…easier.”
Bret didn’t say anything more so Jemaine continued; face heating up, “I…meant everything I said though.”
“You…remember it all?” Bret breathed. He had been a bit nervous in this regard. He had awoken this morning to the warm circle of Jemaine’s arms but the arrangement, while nice, had seemed tentative. After all, last night had been last night and today was today and it - it seemed so unreal. So hard to digest. Bret wasn’t completely certain Jemaine wouldn’t change his mind or back out of it or-
Jemaine’s talking distracted him from his worrying, “Yeah…I remember it. I, Bret, I didn’t forget…I love you.”
Bret looked wholly relieved, his voice coming out in a gasp, “Oh. Good. Good.”
Jemaine shifted about where he sat on the bed, looking a bit sheepish, “It…’s bit weird though. Now. I mean…I’ll admit, it…it might take some getting used to.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah…I mean…you’re my best friend and I love you. And…we-we all ready live together but now we’re starting a….you know…a serious relationship. Might-might be awkward.”
“Yeah?”
“…think so. Maybe…hard to say…head still hurts.”
Bret’s lips twitched, “No one to blame but yourself for that one.”
“Yes, thank you, Bret,” Jemaine tossed out tartly and he got to his feet with some regret. He felt like his brains were sloshing about in his skull. Sighing he went towards the bathroom, mumbling about how he needed to take a shower.
Jemaine undressed and got in the shower, hissing as the water hit his naked skin. It started to feel nice though, the warm cascade of water, and he thought he heard the bathroom door open but then decided (maybe due to his hangover) that he had imagined it.
That was until the curtain pulled back to reveal Bret standing there. Jemaine gasped, startled and inexplicably embarrassed and his hands shot to cover himself, “Oh my- Bret!”
“Jemaine,” Bret said simply, as if his walking in on Jemaine in the shower had been a normal, everyday occurrence for years and years.
Jemaine licked his lips, swallowing, “Um…Bret…sort of…sort of having a shower here…”
But Bret didn’t seem to care. Instead his eyes were dark and sort of hot and Jemaine felt like the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing on end as Bret just stared and stared at him. Bret’s voice came out in a rough purr, “Jemaine, you know…I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh?” Jemaine managed to squeak out. He had never felt so naked in all his life and true he was naked but this…this was a whole new level of naked as Bret’s eyes seemed to pick him apart, as if he was trying to figure out how he worked.
“I think…I think things will be awkward…until we even them out.”
Jemaine’s mouth flapped wordlessly, mind empty and Jesus, Bret’s eyes.
Bret continued talking even as he stepped into the shower, clothes and all, water drenching him, cotton shirt and pajama pants clinging to his skin, his face intense and purposeful, “You…there were so many nights, so many…where you…the things you did for me, Jemaine…the things you did to me…the way you made me feel…”
Jemaine swallowed thickly, heart in his throat, not able to look at Bret anymore because, god, he was right there, and big, and getting closer. And the spray was soaking him, dappling his skin with droplets like tiny diamonds, but Bret didn’t seem to give a damn as he continued, “And you just…you just took it. Every night, every single night…you’d give me everything I wanted and you’d…you’d never do anything for yourself.”
Jemaine bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, Bret’s breath on his face, brushing his chin, brushing over the spots on his face where he was hurt and it was comforting but also sexy and he felt all kinds of conflicted as Bret continued talking in that predatory growl, “And I felt so guilty about that…about taking and not giving and…even when I gave back it-it wasn’t enough…it was too soon…too quick…Jemaine…Jemaine…look at me.”
Jemaine slowly opened his eyes and he almost swore at how near Bret was to him now, lips so, so close and there and his entire body throbbed with desire as Bret’s words seemed to wash over him just as much as the water from the shower head did, “Jemaine…even…even past all that mess the other night…it doesn’t matter…all that matters is…I have to…I have to touch you. I…held back because I was afraid I’d…it’d be too much, but now…you-you wanted me to touch you then but now, now I want…I need…I love you, Jemaine.”
Jemaine hated the fact he was suddenly tearing up, especially at a time like this, but he couldn’t seem to help it as Bret’s voice softened, “I love you, Jemaine Clemaine. Even if this is a mistake, even if this is a bad idea, I can’t…I can’t help it…I love you so much…”
Jemaine leaned in for a kiss but Bret avoided it, face darkening, tone a husky timbre again, “I love you…and I have to have you.”
“Have me?” Jemaine breathed, fear and passion mingling together in his body to create a wild cocktail of sensations that electrified his blood.
Bret eased closer then, hands gently capturing Jemaine’s wet face, fingers plunging into the dripping mess of curls, “I’m going to take you, Jemaine. You said I was yours last night and now…now I’m going to make you mine.”
Jemaine shivered, and he realized unsteadily that he could feel Bret’s erection and Bret was wearing clothes but they were so soaked now it was like he wasn’t wearing anything and the air was moist with steam and the water was hot against his back and he gasped, aroused almost beyond words, but one word managed to escape him, “Bret…”
“That’s right, say my name,” Bret moaned and he angled his head, his tongue sliding soft and slick against Jemaine’s mouth. Jemaine whimpered, opening his lips to allow Bret access as his hands rose up, clutching desperately at the sopping, ruined mess that was Bret’s shirt.
Bret’s hands left Jemaine’s hair, greedy explorers that pillaged and plunged, clutching at various parts of him, skimming along his spine and over his shoulders, brushing along his chest and his nipples and then going lower and lower, one hand capturing Jemaine’s length and Jemaine broke the kiss to cry out, the feeling too good to not express verbally.
Bret stroked him once and Jemaine’s whole body bowed forward, his head resting heavily on Bret’s shoulder, voice breaking, “Bret…can’t…stand…”
“Get out,” Bret gasped, voice thick with a hot, angry authority that made Jemaine want to whimper, “Get out of the shower. Now.”
Jemaine blindly groped for the knobs to turn the shower off, Bret’s hand still on him, still working him and oh god oh god oh god-stupidshowerturnoff!
Jemaine eventually managed to turn the shower off and Bret practically led him by an invisible leash. Next thing Jemaine knew he was laid out on the bed, damp and naked, soaking the sheets and Bret stripped out of his saturated clothes with a smooth ease that, somehow, turned Jemaine on more than it probably should.
And then Bret’s body was covering his own, pushing him down onto the bed and making the air whuff out of his lungs, straddling his waist and Bret was exactly the way Jemaine remembered him last time. Like an uncaged animal, wild and fierce, biting his bottom lip and sucking on his tongue, hands unforgiving, fingers digging in, marking him, and Jemaine moaned uncontrollably, helpless.
Bret’s mouth peeled away from Jemaine’s to work down the length of his body, practically devouring him more than kissing him as it worked its way down, down, down…
And Jemaine felt like he would hyperventilate as Bret finally got there, his breath brushing over what currently felt like the center of his whole being, and he felt another aching pulse run through him. He was so hard it hurt and Bret was there, there, and he wondered if it would take long for him to-
Bret stroked Jemaine’s length once more, his thumb idly spreading the precome at the tip a moment before he simply slipped him into his mouth and Jemaine groaned Bret’s name loudly.
He looked down, incredulous and breathless and so close, as he watched his own cock sliding in and out of Bret’s mouth, at Bret’s eyes looking up into his through clumpy eyelashes and dark, wet curls. Bret worked his tongue along Jemaine’s cock as if he had done this before and Jemaine knew he hadn’t (or was pretty sure he hadn’t) but it felt, god, it felt unbelievable.
And Jemaine was almost sobbing, Bret’s mouth hot and wet and sinful and it felt like, it was…consuming him and Jemaine was sure his sanity was at a thread and he was so close to coming apart but he found his mind flashing to last time and something Bret had said and he belatedly realized that, at some point, his fingers had buried themselves in Bret’s hair and he was guiding him, guiding his head and Bret was letting him and oh oh ohhh…
Jemaine bit his lip hard, trying to keep himself together, not wanting to come yet as thoughts of the last time became clearer and, knowing now that he had a grip on Bret’s head, he tugged at his hair hard, voice a begging cry, “Bret! Oh god…Bret, wait, wait!”
Bret drew away and Jemaine almost wanted to curse at the loss of his mouth on him but he had thought of something he wanted and he looked down at Bret, met his eyes and this time he did swear because Bret’s lips were so red and his eyes so dark. The lust there, the passion, unmistakable, but he managed to drum up the strength to continue, “Bret…Bret…you said…remember last time…what you said…”
Bret looked confused and Jemaine felt himself color as he said softly, “You-you said you…wanted to do more than-than touch me…you wanted…you wanted…”
Bret’s face cleared as he remembered and then he just looked dumbstruck, “You…you mean…are you saying…”
Jemaine gasped, breathless at the mere concept, at his own daring at even suggesting it, “I’m saying…if-if you wanted to…to try…I wouldn’t be adverse to it…”
Bret blinked, stunned, and it took him a second to recover, “Oh…Jemaine…I don’t-I don’t know…”
“You…want to…”
Bret couldn’t lie, “Yes…but…”
“I…I want to, too.” Jemaine swallowed, throat dry, “Least…think I want to.”
“Jemaine…”
“Bret…please…you said you’d…have me.”
Bret moaned, the unexpected shaft of lust that shot through him practically debilitating. The way Jemaine had said that, “Jemaine…”
“Bret, you-you want to give back to me…make things even between us…then…what I want you to give to me…to do to me…is to make me yours. To take me.”
“Jemaine!…don’t…”
“Take me, Bret,” Jemaine licked his lips and grabbed the back of Bret’s neck, easing closer to him, whispering against his mouth, “Fuck me.”
Bret groaned, covering Jemaine’s with mouth his, the kiss sloppy with heat and need and hunger and then Bret quickly drew away. He fumbled around the nightstand until he drew out a clear bottle and Jemaine looked at it quizzically.
“What’s that?”
“It’s…it’s…um…stuff…to make this easier,” Bret’s words got quieter and quieter as he spoke and Jemaine’s eyebrows shot up, “You - you just happened to have that lying around?”
Bret blushed, “Um…have I ever told you I’m freaky?”
Jemaine’s head reared back a bit at that and, no, as well as he could recall, Bret had never told him he was freaky. But, now, he couldn’t help but be a bit grateful for it. Even as butterflies fluttered in his stomach and his mouth felt dry, nerves wracking him as he trembled, “How-how do we…?”
“I don’t - don’t know…never-never done this before…I thought…in the song you said you didn’t want to-”
I didn’t want to bum you, Jemaine thought with a jittery smile, never said anything about the other way around. Unable to communicate that now, he merely let out a tremulous breath and Bret spoke, cutting off further thought, “I think…don’t you…do you…shouldn’t you…lie on your stomach? Or-or be on your knees or…”
“Is-is there…anyway to do it so I can…I’d,” Jemaine blushed, eyes darting about guiltily as he confessed, “I’d like to be able to see you.”
Bret didn’t know why, but that admission made him feel better, his heart sort of squeezing tenderly. He gave Jemaine a soft, gentle kiss because he desperately wanted to. He drew away slowly, resting his head against Jemaine’s, “Yeah…I think…maybe if-if we rearranged some things…”
They shuffled about a moment, this pillow here and that blanket there and Jemaine’s legs and suddenly the positioning seemed right and Bret tried to control the crazy hammering of his heart as he opened the bottle and coated his fingers. Jemaine couldn’t look at him, couldn’t watch, it was too weird and strange and yet he was still excited and eager, curious, and then he felt Bret’s hands easing down there, so, so lightly brushing him.
And it was hard not to tense up because he wasn’t used to it but Bret kept murmuring to him in a quiet, sexy way and Jemaine felt himself relax just that little bit as Bret carefully slid one finger inside, delicately insinuating himself. Jemaine gasped and shuddered and it felt - it felt…
“How…this…you…?” Bret struggled to speak. His mind felt incapable of any form of language and he couldn’t believe what he was doing and he felt sort of like a large white wall had been erected up over every kind of mental facility he had.
“Difficult to…” Jemaine breathed, his words labored, “Un..comfortable…”
“Does it…hurt?”
Jemaine couldn’t answer and Bret moved slightly, sliding in deeper, pushing and Jemaine gasped, the sound sharp and painful and Bret’s eyes felt hot with unshed tears, the idea that he had hurt the person he loved most tearing him up inside and he started drawing away, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop - I’ll stop! You don’t have to! It’s okay-”
“No,” Jemaine managed, his tone desperate, "Don’t…not yet…just…lil’ more…”
“Jemaine I can’t-I can’t hurt you…”
“You…not…just…it’ll get better,” Jemaine’s words sort of struggled to come out, twisting over one another and Bret felt hideous. He wanted to pull away but Jemaine’s body eased down a bit, trying to silently encourage him and Bret reluctantly moved again, unsure and then, somehow his finger turned, moved that tiny little bit to press against…something…and Jemaine made another sharp sound and Bret gave a little cry, afraid he had really hurt him this time but Jemaine’s eyes opened, glazed and unfocused as he moaned, “Oh god! What was…oh!”
And now Bret was torn because Jemaine looked, god, he looked so thoroughly aroused and debauched that Bret didn’t know what to say or how to feel and then Jemaine made a guttural noise, rocking himself slightly against Bret and Bret must have touched it again because Jemaine let out another one of those sounds and he was panting, delirious, “Bret…oh god, Bret! Bret…”
“Jemaine…?”
“There’s…something…touch me…there! More, harder, please, oh god, oh god,” Jemaine begged and Bret did, more forceful this time, and Jemaine’s eyes slid shut as he shuddered and hissed, the feeling unbelievable.
His veins felt like they were on fire, his body wired to explode and each time Bret’s fingers (oh god, when had he slipped in another?) moved, he felt mindless with an exhilaration he wasn’t even aware was possible. It felt like he was out of his skin or dead or flying or transporting to another plane or-
Bret watched with rapt attention, at first not even recognizing that the desperate sounds he heard were coming from his own mouth. Jemaine just looked so incredible and what they were doing was so incredible and then Jemaine looked at him, his eyes full of longing and love and he gasped his name again and Bret, Bret who knew him and loved him better than anyone, understood.
He drew away his fingers and Jemaine let out a tiny moan of disappointment. Bret quickly fished out the bottle again, coating himself and oh god oh god, it was hard not to just keep stroking himself because he was walking such a fine line…so close, so close…
But he drew his hand away and poured more from the bottle onto his fingers, brushing Jemaine again, preparing him and then…
Bret slowly began to push inside, surging, and Jemaine whimpered. Bret felt…he was… it was… too much…and pain was running right alongside ecstasy, intermingling, and…big…and Jemaine felt dizzy because he hadn’t taken a good, deep breath in minutes and his stomach was flip flopping.
Bret was in him.
Inside…
Bret didn’t move. Instead he waited, waited, waited. Stood on the edge, rested on the precipice, waiting for Jemaine to adjust, one hand running smoothly over Jemaine’s hair - sort of petting him and Bret buried his face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling there a moment before moving up to plant a shaky kiss on his jaw and then the side of his face.
Jemaine finally took the breath he needed and he felt like stars swam in front of his vision because he could feel Bret. He could feel all of him, “Bret…”
“…Jemaine…are you…”
Jemaine couldn’t speak again, just nodded and Bret returned the nod as he slowly began to move, cautious of his first thrust, as his shaking fingers left Jemaine’s hair, both hands going to his hips, cradling them, fingertips sinking in.
And Jemaine thought he might have wailed at the first movement - at that distinct feeling of drawing out and then pushing back in, but it didn't matter - he couldn’t help it. Bret was pushing inside, Bret was inside him and it was…
…he was falling, falling, falling…tumbling down, down, down…into…wonderland…
Jemaine moaned, his hands clutching at Bret’s back, sweaty and uncoordinated, and at first it was sort of…unpleasant. He wasn’t used to it (naturally, first time and all) and there was some discomfort, some pain.
But that was giving way to something else.
Something unnamable, something indescribable and oddly frustrating and Jemaine found himself arching up for it, rocking back into Bret’s agonizingly slow rhythm, wanting more, needing more and Bret was biting his bottom lip so hard Jemaine worried it would bleed so he pressed his face closer, silently begging and Bret kissed him, his lips and tongue sloppy but eager.
And then Bret pulled away from the kiss just that little bit and Jemaine gasped into his mouth, shuddering breaths, and Bret was doing the same and they were sort of breathing into one another. It was remarkable. It was crazy. It was perfect.
Then Bret shifted just a little and he was hitting that place inside and Jemaine was beyond rational thought, crying out and moaning, sobbing and Bret was just as lost, his own sounds just as needy and words were tumbling out of him, "Jemaine...so tight-"
And it was the best compliment Jemaine had ever had, the hottest thing, the best thing and oh please don't stop, please don't…harder now, faster…Bret inside him, so hot and hard and…
Jemaine’s head had somehow found itself pressed to Bret’s shoulder and he slowly moved it upward, a quick, delicate scratch of stubble along his cheek as it slid against Bret’s face and then he pressed a rather uncoordinated kiss onto Bret’s brow before just resting his forehead against the other man’s and he was close, so close and he couldn’t stop looking into Bret’s face and Bret’s eyes were sealed tightly shut.
Jemaine licked his lips and found his voice, thick and raspy, "Bret, please... open your eyes..."
Bret didn’t open them right away. Instead his hand seemed to float up like a forgotten ghost, finding Jemaine’s hard length and stroking it first before opening his eyes and choking out Jemaine’s name like...like he was dying and thrusting in one more time and oh oh…
Jemaine could feel Bret coming.
Inside him.
And everything fluttered away like leaves, like feathers, and Jemaine lost himself, coming, coming, lost in the surge of pure, mind-wrecking pleasure, and Bret held on tight.
It took a while for the earth to return to him, for consciousness to float back into existence, slowly, slowly, slowly. And he heard Bret still gasping for breath and that was too much like...Jemaine could barely stand it. He pulled Bret down on top of him. Held on when he tried to move. Skin and sweat and heat and the tingle all over his skin that, at this point, was almost familiar.
Sex.
They’d just had sex.
They’d had sex.
They’d had...really...a lot of sex.
And Jemaine found himself grinning like an idiot. He also found he kind of liked being crushed down under Bret’s panting weight, sweat-slick muscles, bones, and all. The sweet feeling of Bret’s heartbeat through his chest. And there was just something about being with someone you love, and who loves you right back. Who gets you, really and truly gets you, blemishes and weaknesses and all, and loves you anyway.
Bret was catching his breath and he spoke quietly, unsure and afraid, “Did I…how was it?”
“I love you.” Jemaine breathed.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No?”
“Jemaine…” Bret said warningly, tone thick and Jemaine sighed, drawing back to look into his face. He brushed Bret’s cheek tenderly, “Bret…’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“What do you want, Bret? A medal? That was…it was…um,” Jemaine found himself flushing, not really used to talking about his sexual experiences but, knowing it was important to Bret, went the extra mile, “It was the best I ever had.”
Bret blinked, then beamed and his face was so beautiful in its relief and happiness that the momentary embarrassment was worth it, “Really?”
“…yeah.”
Bret ducked his head, modest now and Jemaine rolled his eyes, dryly remarking, “If you like, I can pay you from now on…it was that good.”
Bret chuckled, shaking his head, “You couldn’t afford me.”
“Oh?”
“No.”
“So…this the last time then?”
Bret looked wickedly thoughtful, “I’m sure we can think up some sort of…payment plan.”
“Layaway love?”
Bret looked a bit more serious now, “Good song name.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.”
Bret sighed and kissed Jemaine again. Jemaine drew back, face apprehensive, “So? Feel better now? Everything…even?”
Bret shrugged, “Think so. I think…think I gave as much as I took.”
“That’s for sure,” Jemaine muttered under his breath, his blush growing worse. Catching those words and the rising color in Jemaine’s cheeks, Bret smiled again and gave him another kiss, then pulled away to get to his feet, “Think I’m going to get a quick cup of water. You want anything?”
“…can’t I just leave the bed and come with you?”
Bret’s face answered that question and Jemaine swallowed thickly, stunned, “Really?”
Bret shrugged, “You said it yourself, I’m animalistic.”
“Animalistic and freaky,” Jemaine breathed, wondering belatedly what he was getting himself into. Bret just chuckled again as he walked out to the kitchen. He saw the luggage sitting in the living room and sighed. He’d have to unpack that later.
He poured himself a cup of water and, as he sipped at it, he saw the rock and the hundred dollars sitting on the couch. He picked up the rock and set it on top of the book shelf nearby, admiring it for a moment. Then he looked at the hundred dollars.
He picked it up gingerly, turning it over in his hand. Had it been that long ago when he had first got this money and wondered where and, more importantly, what he was going to spend it on? It felt like a lifetime ago.
He thought of the lottery ticket and its three smiley faces peering up at him. At confessing his secret longings aloud to Righty and Lefty. At thinking of how he had never considered himself incredibly lucky.
He looked at the open bedroom door and shivered with remembered heat.
Smiling, Bret took the money and once again tucked it far behind his mould farm, thinking of how, in time, it would mostly likely become a forgotten artifact. He put his cup of water aside and walked back into the bedroom to see Jemaine waiting for him in his bed, his hair ruffled and his face warm and smiling.
Bret shook his head. He had never considered himself incredibly lucky…but every now and then he had his moments.
~fin~
On to epilogue
Part 15: wonderland
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: NC17 - BIG TIME.
Summary: Bret hires Jemaine to be his ‘companion’.
Disclaimer: I do not own the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them
Notes: *phew* Here it is AT LAST! The end of my EPIC! And I should have the epilogue up later tonight! :-) And I am not lying when I say it is LONG (words: 8,270). This was also, um, my first time actually tackling the full on gay sex…so…hopefully not too terrible. I also want to thank all of you who have read this entire thing - your feedback is greatly appreciated and your love is returned a hundred fold!
Back to: Part 14, Part 13, Part 12, Part 11, Part 10, Part 9, Part 8, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5, Part 4, Part 3, Part 2, Part 1
The front door of Bret and Jemaine’s apartment burst open loudly to reveal a drenched and wild-eyed Jemaine, his mouth open, words ready. He blinked into the darkness of the apartment, feeling a bit foolish now, as there was no one to marvel over his dramatic entrance.
This was not how he had pictured this happening.
He had imagined bursting in to find Bret waiting for him on the couch. He had imagined striding up to him and laying it all out for him. He had imagined Bret rising up from the couch at his words and their embracing. He had not, however, imagined the reality that faced him now, which was a dark, possibly empty, apartment, no Bret in sight.
Frowning sulkily, he shut the door and rubbed his hands apprehensively along his soaking wet jeans. The heat wave in New York had finally broken tonight, the rain a welcome, if not a tad overwhelming, phenomenon. Unfortunately, it had caused Jemaine to have to run (and he did, in point of fact, run) several blocks through the downpour, saturating him entirely.
His shoes squeaked as he wrapped his arms around himself. He had spent all this time being so unbearably hot that it was almost unusual to be cold again. But cold he was, and the more he moved about, the more unsettled he became.
Where was Bret?
Jemaine walked over towards the couch and almost tripped over a large pile of…something. He looked down with a frown and as his eyes became more adjusted to the dark, light only filtering in from the streetlamps outside, he noticed that he had bumped into a large pile of luggage.
He looked at the luggage in confusion when suddenly an idea formed in his mind, making his throat squeeze tight.
This luggage…it looked familiar.
It looked like the same luggage Bret had used when they had moved from New Zealand to here. In fact, the more Jemaine looked at the trunks and bags, the more certain he became that these were indeed Bret’s. Bret had been…packing. Why would he be packing?
Jemaine swallowed painfully and looked towards the bedroom. The door was, oddly, closed and he walked over to it. He pressed a hand to the door, almost scared to open it, scared to see two empty beds on the other side.
Stirring up what little courage he had, he opened the door and felt awash in relief when he saw Bret sleeping soundly in his bed. Still…Bret’s luggage loomed behind him in the dark like a monster waiting to feed.
Jemaine’s straightened his shoulders, standing tall. No. He was not going to let that stop him. He wasn’t going to let anything stop him. He strode over to Bret’s bed confidently and shook him, “Bret.”
Bret answered with a snore.
“Bret. Wake up.”
Bret snorted and opened his eyes, blinking blearily, “….J’maine?”
“That’s right. Come on,” Jemaine took hold of Bret’s shoulders and helped him sit up, voice urgent, “Come on, come on, man,”
Bret yawned sleepily, only half conscious, “All right…all right, just…give me a minute,”
“Don’t have a minute, come on, come on,” Jemaine urged and practically propelled Bret out into the living room. He deposited him on the couch and quickly went about turning on all the lights.
Bret winced against the brightness and Jemaine rubbed his hands together, pleased, “Okay. Good. Going try this again.”
Jemaine smoothly exited the apartment and Bret merely yawned again, still blinking as he adjusted to the lights. The front door was once more loudly thrust open as Jemaine strode in a second time, “Bret! I have something to tell you!”
Bret turned his head slowly, voice quiet as he became more awake, “Yeah?”
“Yeah! Yes,” Jemaine came over to stand in front of him, nerves setting in as his imaginary entrance and declaration really hadn’t manifested any further past this point, “Yes…yes…”
Bret just stared at him, waiting. Jemaine didn’t elaborate, so Bret offered helpfully, “You…wanted to tell me something?”
“Yes, um,” Jemaine cleared his throat and he dropped down to his knees in front of Bret, “Bret, I’ve…I’ve realized something tonight. Something important and life changing and-and it involves you and me and…I have to tell you, and…well, I mean, first I should, you know,” Jemaine had never done this before, so the words seemed alien on his tongue, “apologize for-for earlier so, so sorry about that-”
“Okay,” Bret drew out, not sure where this was going.
“Okay, well, so, yes, sorry and - I um, I realized, I um, it’s that, you see, the thing is,” Jemaine struggled with his words, not sure how to continue and really, the adrenaline was wearing off and the more he knelt here the more he realized he was wet and cold and not entirely sober yet.
His stomach felt like it had a large lead weight in it and he wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he might throw up soon, his lungs starting to burn from the run here. Not to mention his aching jaw, but that was another story…
Still, he looked at Bret and, more importantly, Bret’s luggage and knew he had to continue no matter what the cost, so he did, stumbling over his words, “Bret, love is - love is, well, love is bad guys - I mean, no, it’s-it’s not bad guys or-or good guys or endings and it’s not perfect but it can rock and it can - maybe it can, it, um, do you know what I mean?”
Bret frowned, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “Mmm, no, sorry, I don’t-I don’t follow. At all. And what happened to your face? You chin is bleeding and you-you smell like a brewery. And a cigar factory.”
Jemaine frowned, looking down at his clothes, “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And - and sort of a wet one, at that.”
“So…a wet brewery inside a cigar factory?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Huh.”
There was a silence and then Jemaine blinked, his mind clicking back on track, “Look, that…it-it doesn’t matter. What matters is, is what I’m trying to say.”
“What-what are you trying to say?”
“I don’t…Kelly said it so much better than I did.”
“Who?”
“Kel-Miss Adams, from the - book fair, ran into her,” Jemaine’s voice faded off into mumbles and Bret shook his head, annoyed, “Yeah, well, look, Jemaine, this has been - something. But, I was sleeping and…think I’d like to go back to that. Got-got a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Jemaine breathed.
Bret looked at his luggage then looked at Jemaine, face serious, and Jemaine felt his heart thump painfully in his chest. The cold seemed to get worse as he spoke, “You can’t be…you aren’t…”
Bret shook his head, sighing heavily, “Jemaine,” then, unable to think of anything else, he said again, “Jemaine.”
“Bret…”
“I’m…tired. I’m-I’m going to go back to bed.”
“No, Bret…”
“Night,” Bret got to his feet and Jemaine shot to his own, standing in front of him, face desperate as he said forcefully, “I love you.”
Bret blinked, head rearing back slightly, “Wh-what?”
Jemaine licked his lips and reached out a hand as if to touch him. He drew it back shakily, voice breaking as he looked down at his feet, eyes darting over Bret’s luggage, “I love you.”
Bret didn’t say anything and Jemaine took in a deep breath, lifting his head and looking in his friend’s eyes, even as hard as it was for him to do so, every instinct in him wanting to look away as his fear drummed through him at full force, “I love you, Bret.”
Bret looked back at him, face unreadable and Jemaine suddenly remembered something, and he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out the hundred dollar bill, “Here. I - I didn’t spend it…I didn’t want to. I…I know how this started, Bret and, again, it’s, it’s weird to say ‘cause I never…but…I’m…sorry. I didn’t…the way things happened it…it wasn’t how I wanted it and I don’t want this money. Not anymore. I want…I want…it’s just…”
Jemaine found he was shaking now, trembling uncontrollably as he kept looking in Bret’s eyes and Bret’s face was such a mask, like it had been earlier that day. A terrible, frightening mask. Emotionless and indecipherable. But he pressed on. He had to press on. The luggage was right there. Just out of the corner of his eye. And tomorrow, tomorrow…tomorrow seemed even closer.
Jemaine’s mind flashed to how the apartment had been when he had entered. Dark and empty. Alone. Alone.
Jemaine remembered something else and reached into his pocket again, “There’s this…too…it’s-it’s for you…”
Bret looked down at Jemaine’s outstretched hand to see a large rock resting in his palm. He took it hesitantly, “A rock?”
“It’s an…you know…an egg. I found it. Or, you know, actually, I tripped over it when I ran here and I landed on my chin and yeah, you know I noticed earlier, I should, you could maybe…give me a second, ‘cause I think my mouth might be filling up with blood,” Jemaine paused and walked over to the kitchen sink. He spat out and drank from the tap a minute before returning over to Bret, rubbing an arm gingerly over his mouth.
“Ah, yes, better…so, where was-? Oh! Yes, Bret…I love you.”
Bret just kept looking at Jemaine. Taking in his soaking wet clothes and his tousled dark hair. His glasses were beaded with water and his eyes looked glassy and bloodshot. The bruise under his one eye looked swollen and unhappy and his scrapped chin looked just as bad.
Bret sighed, shoulders slumping as he shook his head, “So that’s it, then? You come in here, tell me you love me and give me a rock and that’s supposed to fix everything? Make it all better?”
Jemaine felt his heart sink, “No. Not-not everything, but…Bret…”
Bret felt even more exhausted as he spoke, voice dry, “Jemaine…it’s not so simple.”
“I know that-”
“Do you?” Bret cut off, voice sharp, “I thought,” Bret shook his head, anger settling in as he spoke again, “fuck, I thought I was using you. And turns out you were the one who - you…you made me look like…feel like…a fucking idiot.”
“No-” Jemaine breathed, shaking his head adamantly.
“Yes, Jemaine,” Bret stressed, “I was so worried about hurting you and turns out you were just…god, you’re such a dickhead!”
“I…I know. I know I was,” Jemaine admitted, voice coming out sort of choked, “But Bret…please I-”
“No, Jemaine, don’t-don’t say it…doesn’t…it’s no good.”
Jemaine felt his bottom lip sort of quivering and he bit it to make it stop. This wasn’t going the way he thought it would at all. He wasn’t doing this right. He tried again, “Bret…”
“You come in here and tell me you love me,” Bret shook his head again, voice hard, unforgiving as he said, “Well, I don’t. I don’t love you.”
Jemaine stepped away from Bret, shaking his head in disbelief; Bret noticed it but said again, “I don’t love you, Jemaine.”
“No,” Jemaine breathed and stepped back towards him, “I don’t…don’t believe you.”
“Well,” Bret let out a joyless laugh, “It’s true. I don’t...and this whole thing…it-it was a mistake. I mean I’m straight, you’re straight. This isn’t…this isn’t who we are and it was foolish to think…it was just-just something that happened. We should just…just forget it.”
“Bret, don’t…”
Bret shook his head, pressed his hands to his eyes a moment before running them through his hair, when he spoke he sounded so serious, so mature, so unlike himself, “It’ll be better this way. You’ll see, you just…you just think you’re in love with me and you’ll…you know, you’ll get over it and I’ll…”
“Bret, I don’t just think it, I know it-”
“No, you don’t, you don’t…don’t know a thing like that and even if…you’re drunk and confused.”
“I’m not.”
“You are, Jemaine, this’ll…it’ll…hell, it’s all ready ruined the band. And the friendship and the…we can’t even…I don’t even think we can come back from this. I think it might be-” As Bret spoke this last part, Jemaine found himself growing more panic-stricken and his words layered over top of Bret’s as he shook his head, hissing, “Don’t you say that!” even as Bret said the horrible word, “-over.”
Bret took in a shuddering breath, ignoring Jemaine as he said hollowly, “Things…end, Jemaine. It’s not even really…you know, your fault. Would’ve-would’ve happened…would’ve ended eventually…”
Jemaine just kept shaking his head, speechless as Bret said quietly, “Things change, people change…we wouldn’t…we can’t-can’t do this forever. We…didn’t make it as a band. We didn’t even make it as…and even if we had…even if we had, it would have…one of us or both of us…we would have found a girl and gotten married and had babies and it would have been…over. It’s…’s over now, regardless, so-”
“It’s not over,” Jemaine whined, “Stop saying that!”
“Just,” Bret shrugged simply, “It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not,” Jemaine said steely and his hand shot out, squeezing Bret’s arm hard, “It’s not…not unless you give up. Which-which you are and you need to…I’m not giving up! So you can’t-you can’t-”
“Jemaine-”
“No, shut up!” Jemaine had never sounded this angry with Bret before and Bret’s vision snapped up to Jemaine’s eyes, startled by the raw emotion he saw there, “You always do this, Bret, you always give up and quit and this time I won’t-I won’t let you. I won’t!”
Bret tried to shrug out of Jemaine’s grip, ignoring the fact that he had started trembling, his words warbling out of him, “Can’t…you can’t stop me. How can you-”
“I love you,” Jemaine said again firmly, “I love you.”
Bret gasped, “‘S…no good, doesn’t-doesn’t…matter-”
“It does. I love you, Bret McClegnie! Whether it's right or wrong, whether it’s gay or straight…um, ‘s mostly gay, but I mean, I love you. I love you and I’m completely helpless against it. And it-it scares me. It does…a little bit…but-but it…it doesn’t scare me as much as the idea of-of not being in love with you. Of not-not having you anymore.”
Bret couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe and Jemaine’s grip loosened on his arm, releasing it. Bret rubbed the spot where Jemaine had been clutching him and he found his voice, whispering hesitatingly, “Jemaine…even-even if…it would never work. You’d…you’re so…selfish and grumpy and moody and hot and then cold and…you’d be a terrible boyfriend…just terrible. You’re forgetful and jealous and you wouldn’t trust me and…it wouldn’t…it wouldn’t last.”
“Don’t know unless we try.”
Bret was the one shaking his head now, ignoring the fact that Jemaine was slowly edging closer and closer to him, “We can’t. We can’t…be a…mistake…”
“Bret…please,” And suddenly something dawned on Jemaine and he said softly, “Bret…don’t-don’t wait on this one.”
Bret looked at him, stunned, the ludicrousness of those words in combination with the situation causing one corner of his lips to jerk slightly upward, “You…you didn’t…you didn’t just…”
Jemaine cupped Bret’s face in his hands, “It’s…it’s a stupid catchphrase…but…it works.”
Bret breathed out, the sound painful, and he blinked, eyes watering, “This is…a bad idea.”
Jemaine shrugged, “Yeah. Maybe. But…I love you.”
Bret closed his eyes tight, one tear edging out, “Jemaine, I don’t…”
“Yes, you do,” Jemaine breathed, his mouth getting closer to Bret’s, “And that…it’s…’s okay.”
Bret let out a squeak and then Jemaine’s mouth was covering his, hot and sweet and Bret whimpered, his hands coming to life to cradle Jemaine’s head, fingers threading through his hair. Jemaine drew back and kissed his nose and his forehead and then his lips again, holding him close, “…guess…guess I finally caught you.”
Bret didn’t know why, but he found himself laughing uncontrollably as Jemaine kissed him again hungrily. Bret pulled back, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, no I just…I’ve lost my mind is all.”
“We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad….”
“We’re in Wonderland, that it?”
“I don’t know…” Jemaine paused, thinking words he thought too silly to say aloud. Then again, he had said a lot of things now that were potentially embarrassing so he decided to just roll with it, “I know I do feel wonderful right now,” Jemaine kissed him again, adding softly against his lips, “Better than I’ve felt in a long time…”
Bret’s lips were trembling, because he was caught up in a wave of emotions that rolled over one another - love, hope, fear - and he tried to settle himself on the dry land of rationality, saying wryly, “Maybe I just…I didn’t want to go stay at Jim’s place, that’s all.”
Jemaine pulled away, frowning, “Jim’s place?”
Bret kicked a foot towards his luggage and Jemaine raised his eyebrows. Bret sighed, “Was…only going to be temporary. ‘Till I found my own place. I mean…can’t-can’t stay with Dave, much less Mel. And Murray gropes people in his sleep so…you know, Jim would have let me…”
“Jim is a dick.”
“True.”
“And you’re mine.”
Bret was a bit surprised by the conclusive tone, “Am I?”
Jemaine nodded firmly, jerking his head towards the couch where the money and the rock rested, “I gave you your money back…business concluded…I’m my own man, now.”
“Hmm, but I’m not mine?”
“No, you’re your own man too, you just…you’re just mine too now. And I’m yours and…that’s…that’s how it works. I think.”
“Huh,” Bret sat on the couch, hefting up the rock in one hand, “So…this?”
Jemaine rubbed a hand at the back of his neck as he sat down next to Bret, “I did trip over it. Seemed…sort of kismet. What with the money and all…could be an egg though.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe. It is pretty big. Maybe it’s got a…you know, a penguin in there. Or a platypus. Do platypuses come from eggs?”
“Think so.”
“Oh, maybe…an ET.”
“Gah!” Bret put the rock aside as if it was hot, crossing his arms as he shivered, “Now I’m going to have nightmares again.”
Jemaine put an arm around him, “Don’t worry. I’ll…take care of you.”
Bret looked at Jemaine’s arm around him and blushed, “Um. This is…weird.”
“What is?”
“Us…this.”
Jemaine shrugged, “Seems okay to me.”
“You’re still drunk.”
“Not drunk.”
“Again, you smell like a brewery.”
“Okay, well, I did run through the rain. Tends to sober you up a bit.”
“Mm, can imagine,” Bret sat up straighter and turned to face Jemaine, 'tsking' as he took in his appearance again, “You’re a mess. We should…fix you up.”
“I’m all right.”
“Jemaine, you look like shit.”
“You cursed.”
“There’s…there was no other word for it.” Bret said with some shame and he got to his feet, “Come on, let’s go clean you up a bit.”
He held out his hand and Jemaine took it. Bret thought this would take more getting used to, but leading Jemaine to the bathroom by hand seemed almost second nature. Once in the bathroom he cleaned up Jemaine’s scrape and put on a band aid, kissing it gently, adding softly, “Supposed to kiss it to make it get better.”
“Really? ‘Cause, you know, I also scrapped my-”
“Stop it,” Bret said with a tiny grin, shaking his head, he noted the spot under Jemaine’s eye and reached fingers towards it gingerly, “Did I…really do that?”
Jemaine just nodded and Bret frowned. Then, remembering something, he lifted up one of his hands for inspection. His knuckles looked about as bad as Jemaine’s face did, and he said conspiratorially, “At least this wasn’t for nothing then…hurts.”
Jemaine took his hand, inspecting the knuckles. He brushed his lips over them lightly, not wanting to put on any pressure that would hurt, whispering against his skin, “Kiss to make it better.”
Bret felt himself blushing as he gently drew his hand away. He regarded Jemaine’s sopping clothes with a sigh, “Come on; better get you out of those wet clothes.”
“Okay!” Jemaine said eagerly, but his enthusiasm wore off as it became more obvious that removing his wet clothes was going to be more of a cumbersome task than a fun one.
Once his clothes were off, he went for Bret but Bret cut him off, handing him pajama bottoms and a white shirt, “Here. Put this on. You should take a shower, but you probably need sleep more, so it can wait a night…”
“…what about-”
“That can wait too,” Bret admonished, and then added softly, “A lot more talk as well.”
“…more talk?”
“…haven’t quite forgiven you, yet.”
“Aw! Come on!”
“…you’ll have to work for it.”
Jemaine frowned, a thought occurring to him sluggishly, as his fatigue really began to settle in, “You…teasing me?”
Bret ignored the question, “Bed.”
“Not unless you’re getting in it with me.”
Bret rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Of course I am, you dork.”
“…not a dork.” Jemaine added slowly as he crawled into Bret’s bed. The warmth and smell were comforting and he was right on the edge of sleep as Bret turned off the lights and cuddled in next to him.
Right before he fell off into unconsciousness, Jemaine heard Bret’s voice, soft and shaky with emotion, “Jemaine…”
Jemaine was too tied to answer but Bret continued anyway, “…I love you…”
Jemaine fell asleep with a smile on his face.
88888888888
“...lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. `Wake up, Alice dear!' said her sister; `Why, what a long sleep you've had!'”
The soft spoken words slowly filtered into Jemaine’s ears and he twitched where he lay. Someone was reading to him and, as he came into consciousness, he noted with a frown that, while the voice speaking to him was sweet, it was the only thing about his newfound wakefulness that was so. His head ached and his face felt raw and stiff.
“’Oh, I've had such a curious dream!' said Alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, `It WAS a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late.' So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been….”
At these words, Jemaine wondered if he wasn’t dreaming and he opened his eyes, only to quickly seal them shut again. The light had been blinding and it had caused his mind to pound painfully.
“But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream…” the voice continued, and Jemaine belatedly realized it was Bret.
Forcing his eyes to open again, Jemaine adjusted as best as he could to the light, groaning softly under his breath. He was buried under a sea of messy blankets and sheets. Bret sat across from him in a chair he had obviously brought in from the kitchen, his attention directed on the book in his hands.
“…the long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by--the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool--she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution…”
“…Bret?” Jemaine managed weakly.
Bret shut the book and smiled shyly, “Morning.”
Jemaine groaned again, shutting his eyes again and pressing a hand over them. Bret spoke again, “How’re you doing?”
“Head…hurts,” Jemaine’s voice cracked as he licked his lips, another groan escaping him as his head suddenly throbbed, as if to drive the point home. Bret murmured soothingly and reached towards the night table. He grabbed the cup of water and two aspirin he had laid out earlier when he first got up and handed them to Jemaine, “Thought you might need these.”
Jemaine sat up hesitantly and took them. He looked at Bret bashfully as a silence descended. It took a few minutes for him to work up the nerve to break it, only managing a, “So…”
“So.”
“…last night. I, um, said a lot.”
“Yeah,” Bret agreed with a timid smile, “I think you said more to me last night than you’ve said to me in my entire time knowing you.”
“Um…yes. Drinking…’parently does that…makes talking…easier.”
Bret didn’t say anything more so Jemaine continued; face heating up, “I…meant everything I said though.”
“You…remember it all?” Bret breathed. He had been a bit nervous in this regard. He had awoken this morning to the warm circle of Jemaine’s arms but the arrangement, while nice, had seemed tentative. After all, last night had been last night and today was today and it - it seemed so unreal. So hard to digest. Bret wasn’t completely certain Jemaine wouldn’t change his mind or back out of it or-
Jemaine’s talking distracted him from his worrying, “Yeah…I remember it. I, Bret, I didn’t forget…I love you.”
Bret looked wholly relieved, his voice coming out in a gasp, “Oh. Good. Good.”
Jemaine shifted about where he sat on the bed, looking a bit sheepish, “It…’s bit weird though. Now. I mean…I’ll admit, it…it might take some getting used to.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah…I mean…you’re my best friend and I love you. And…we-we all ready live together but now we’re starting a….you know…a serious relationship. Might-might be awkward.”
“Yeah?”
“…think so. Maybe…hard to say…head still hurts.”
Bret’s lips twitched, “No one to blame but yourself for that one.”
“Yes, thank you, Bret,” Jemaine tossed out tartly and he got to his feet with some regret. He felt like his brains were sloshing about in his skull. Sighing he went towards the bathroom, mumbling about how he needed to take a shower.
Jemaine undressed and got in the shower, hissing as the water hit his naked skin. It started to feel nice though, the warm cascade of water, and he thought he heard the bathroom door open but then decided (maybe due to his hangover) that he had imagined it.
That was until the curtain pulled back to reveal Bret standing there. Jemaine gasped, startled and inexplicably embarrassed and his hands shot to cover himself, “Oh my- Bret!”
“Jemaine,” Bret said simply, as if his walking in on Jemaine in the shower had been a normal, everyday occurrence for years and years.
Jemaine licked his lips, swallowing, “Um…Bret…sort of…sort of having a shower here…”
But Bret didn’t seem to care. Instead his eyes were dark and sort of hot and Jemaine felt like the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing on end as Bret just stared and stared at him. Bret’s voice came out in a rough purr, “Jemaine, you know…I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh?” Jemaine managed to squeak out. He had never felt so naked in all his life and true he was naked but this…this was a whole new level of naked as Bret’s eyes seemed to pick him apart, as if he was trying to figure out how he worked.
“I think…I think things will be awkward…until we even them out.”
Jemaine’s mouth flapped wordlessly, mind empty and Jesus, Bret’s eyes.
Bret continued talking even as he stepped into the shower, clothes and all, water drenching him, cotton shirt and pajama pants clinging to his skin, his face intense and purposeful, “You…there were so many nights, so many…where you…the things you did for me, Jemaine…the things you did to me…the way you made me feel…”
Jemaine swallowed thickly, heart in his throat, not able to look at Bret anymore because, god, he was right there, and big, and getting closer. And the spray was soaking him, dappling his skin with droplets like tiny diamonds, but Bret didn’t seem to give a damn as he continued, “And you just…you just took it. Every night, every single night…you’d give me everything I wanted and you’d…you’d never do anything for yourself.”
Jemaine bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, Bret’s breath on his face, brushing his chin, brushing over the spots on his face where he was hurt and it was comforting but also sexy and he felt all kinds of conflicted as Bret continued talking in that predatory growl, “And I felt so guilty about that…about taking and not giving and…even when I gave back it-it wasn’t enough…it was too soon…too quick…Jemaine…Jemaine…look at me.”
Jemaine slowly opened his eyes and he almost swore at how near Bret was to him now, lips so, so close and there and his entire body throbbed with desire as Bret’s words seemed to wash over him just as much as the water from the shower head did, “Jemaine…even…even past all that mess the other night…it doesn’t matter…all that matters is…I have to…I have to touch you. I…held back because I was afraid I’d…it’d be too much, but now…you-you wanted me to touch you then but now, now I want…I need…I love you, Jemaine.”
Jemaine hated the fact he was suddenly tearing up, especially at a time like this, but he couldn’t seem to help it as Bret’s voice softened, “I love you, Jemaine Clemaine. Even if this is a mistake, even if this is a bad idea, I can’t…I can’t help it…I love you so much…”
Jemaine leaned in for a kiss but Bret avoided it, face darkening, tone a husky timbre again, “I love you…and I have to have you.”
“Have me?” Jemaine breathed, fear and passion mingling together in his body to create a wild cocktail of sensations that electrified his blood.
Bret eased closer then, hands gently capturing Jemaine’s wet face, fingers plunging into the dripping mess of curls, “I’m going to take you, Jemaine. You said I was yours last night and now…now I’m going to make you mine.”
Jemaine shivered, and he realized unsteadily that he could feel Bret’s erection and Bret was wearing clothes but they were so soaked now it was like he wasn’t wearing anything and the air was moist with steam and the water was hot against his back and he gasped, aroused almost beyond words, but one word managed to escape him, “Bret…”
“That’s right, say my name,” Bret moaned and he angled his head, his tongue sliding soft and slick against Jemaine’s mouth. Jemaine whimpered, opening his lips to allow Bret access as his hands rose up, clutching desperately at the sopping, ruined mess that was Bret’s shirt.
Bret’s hands left Jemaine’s hair, greedy explorers that pillaged and plunged, clutching at various parts of him, skimming along his spine and over his shoulders, brushing along his chest and his nipples and then going lower and lower, one hand capturing Jemaine’s length and Jemaine broke the kiss to cry out, the feeling too good to not express verbally.
Bret stroked him once and Jemaine’s whole body bowed forward, his head resting heavily on Bret’s shoulder, voice breaking, “Bret…can’t…stand…”
“Get out,” Bret gasped, voice thick with a hot, angry authority that made Jemaine want to whimper, “Get out of the shower. Now.”
Jemaine blindly groped for the knobs to turn the shower off, Bret’s hand still on him, still working him and oh god oh god oh god-stupidshowerturnoff!
Jemaine eventually managed to turn the shower off and Bret practically led him by an invisible leash. Next thing Jemaine knew he was laid out on the bed, damp and naked, soaking the sheets and Bret stripped out of his saturated clothes with a smooth ease that, somehow, turned Jemaine on more than it probably should.
And then Bret’s body was covering his own, pushing him down onto the bed and making the air whuff out of his lungs, straddling his waist and Bret was exactly the way Jemaine remembered him last time. Like an uncaged animal, wild and fierce, biting his bottom lip and sucking on his tongue, hands unforgiving, fingers digging in, marking him, and Jemaine moaned uncontrollably, helpless.
Bret’s mouth peeled away from Jemaine’s to work down the length of his body, practically devouring him more than kissing him as it worked its way down, down, down…
And Jemaine felt like he would hyperventilate as Bret finally got there, his breath brushing over what currently felt like the center of his whole being, and he felt another aching pulse run through him. He was so hard it hurt and Bret was there, there, and he wondered if it would take long for him to-
Bret stroked Jemaine’s length once more, his thumb idly spreading the precome at the tip a moment before he simply slipped him into his mouth and Jemaine groaned Bret’s name loudly.
He looked down, incredulous and breathless and so close, as he watched his own cock sliding in and out of Bret’s mouth, at Bret’s eyes looking up into his through clumpy eyelashes and dark, wet curls. Bret worked his tongue along Jemaine’s cock as if he had done this before and Jemaine knew he hadn’t (or was pretty sure he hadn’t) but it felt, god, it felt unbelievable.
And Jemaine was almost sobbing, Bret’s mouth hot and wet and sinful and it felt like, it was…consuming him and Jemaine was sure his sanity was at a thread and he was so close to coming apart but he found his mind flashing to last time and something Bret had said and he belatedly realized that, at some point, his fingers had buried themselves in Bret’s hair and he was guiding him, guiding his head and Bret was letting him and oh oh ohhh…
Jemaine bit his lip hard, trying to keep himself together, not wanting to come yet as thoughts of the last time became clearer and, knowing now that he had a grip on Bret’s head, he tugged at his hair hard, voice a begging cry, “Bret! Oh god…Bret, wait, wait!”
Bret drew away and Jemaine almost wanted to curse at the loss of his mouth on him but he had thought of something he wanted and he looked down at Bret, met his eyes and this time he did swear because Bret’s lips were so red and his eyes so dark. The lust there, the passion, unmistakable, but he managed to drum up the strength to continue, “Bret…Bret…you said…remember last time…what you said…”
Bret looked confused and Jemaine felt himself color as he said softly, “You-you said you…wanted to do more than-than touch me…you wanted…you wanted…”
Bret’s face cleared as he remembered and then he just looked dumbstruck, “You…you mean…are you saying…”
Jemaine gasped, breathless at the mere concept, at his own daring at even suggesting it, “I’m saying…if-if you wanted to…to try…I wouldn’t be adverse to it…”
Bret blinked, stunned, and it took him a second to recover, “Oh…Jemaine…I don’t-I don’t know…”
“You…want to…”
Bret couldn’t lie, “Yes…but…”
“I…I want to, too.” Jemaine swallowed, throat dry, “Least…think I want to.”
“Jemaine…”
“Bret…please…you said you’d…have me.”
Bret moaned, the unexpected shaft of lust that shot through him practically debilitating. The way Jemaine had said that, “Jemaine…”
“Bret, you-you want to give back to me…make things even between us…then…what I want you to give to me…to do to me…is to make me yours. To take me.”
“Jemaine!…don’t…”
“Take me, Bret,” Jemaine licked his lips and grabbed the back of Bret’s neck, easing closer to him, whispering against his mouth, “Fuck me.”
Bret groaned, covering Jemaine’s with mouth his, the kiss sloppy with heat and need and hunger and then Bret quickly drew away. He fumbled around the nightstand until he drew out a clear bottle and Jemaine looked at it quizzically.
“What’s that?”
“It’s…it’s…um…stuff…to make this easier,” Bret’s words got quieter and quieter as he spoke and Jemaine’s eyebrows shot up, “You - you just happened to have that lying around?”
Bret blushed, “Um…have I ever told you I’m freaky?”
Jemaine’s head reared back a bit at that and, no, as well as he could recall, Bret had never told him he was freaky. But, now, he couldn’t help but be a bit grateful for it. Even as butterflies fluttered in his stomach and his mouth felt dry, nerves wracking him as he trembled, “How-how do we…?”
“I don’t - don’t know…never-never done this before…I thought…in the song you said you didn’t want to-”
I didn’t want to bum you, Jemaine thought with a jittery smile, never said anything about the other way around. Unable to communicate that now, he merely let out a tremulous breath and Bret spoke, cutting off further thought, “I think…don’t you…do you…shouldn’t you…lie on your stomach? Or-or be on your knees or…”
“Is-is there…anyway to do it so I can…I’d,” Jemaine blushed, eyes darting about guiltily as he confessed, “I’d like to be able to see you.”
Bret didn’t know why, but that admission made him feel better, his heart sort of squeezing tenderly. He gave Jemaine a soft, gentle kiss because he desperately wanted to. He drew away slowly, resting his head against Jemaine’s, “Yeah…I think…maybe if-if we rearranged some things…”
They shuffled about a moment, this pillow here and that blanket there and Jemaine’s legs and suddenly the positioning seemed right and Bret tried to control the crazy hammering of his heart as he opened the bottle and coated his fingers. Jemaine couldn’t look at him, couldn’t watch, it was too weird and strange and yet he was still excited and eager, curious, and then he felt Bret’s hands easing down there, so, so lightly brushing him.
And it was hard not to tense up because he wasn’t used to it but Bret kept murmuring to him in a quiet, sexy way and Jemaine felt himself relax just that little bit as Bret carefully slid one finger inside, delicately insinuating himself. Jemaine gasped and shuddered and it felt - it felt…
“How…this…you…?” Bret struggled to speak. His mind felt incapable of any form of language and he couldn’t believe what he was doing and he felt sort of like a large white wall had been erected up over every kind of mental facility he had.
“Difficult to…” Jemaine breathed, his words labored, “Un..comfortable…”
“Does it…hurt?”
Jemaine couldn’t answer and Bret moved slightly, sliding in deeper, pushing and Jemaine gasped, the sound sharp and painful and Bret’s eyes felt hot with unshed tears, the idea that he had hurt the person he loved most tearing him up inside and he started drawing away, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop - I’ll stop! You don’t have to! It’s okay-”
“No,” Jemaine managed, his tone desperate, "Don’t…not yet…just…lil’ more…”
“Jemaine I can’t-I can’t hurt you…”
“You…not…just…it’ll get better,” Jemaine’s words sort of struggled to come out, twisting over one another and Bret felt hideous. He wanted to pull away but Jemaine’s body eased down a bit, trying to silently encourage him and Bret reluctantly moved again, unsure and then, somehow his finger turned, moved that tiny little bit to press against…something…and Jemaine made another sharp sound and Bret gave a little cry, afraid he had really hurt him this time but Jemaine’s eyes opened, glazed and unfocused as he moaned, “Oh god! What was…oh!”
And now Bret was torn because Jemaine looked, god, he looked so thoroughly aroused and debauched that Bret didn’t know what to say or how to feel and then Jemaine made a guttural noise, rocking himself slightly against Bret and Bret must have touched it again because Jemaine let out another one of those sounds and he was panting, delirious, “Bret…oh god, Bret! Bret…”
“Jemaine…?”
“There’s…something…touch me…there! More, harder, please, oh god, oh god,” Jemaine begged and Bret did, more forceful this time, and Jemaine’s eyes slid shut as he shuddered and hissed, the feeling unbelievable.
His veins felt like they were on fire, his body wired to explode and each time Bret’s fingers (oh god, when had he slipped in another?) moved, he felt mindless with an exhilaration he wasn’t even aware was possible. It felt like he was out of his skin or dead or flying or transporting to another plane or-
Bret watched with rapt attention, at first not even recognizing that the desperate sounds he heard were coming from his own mouth. Jemaine just looked so incredible and what they were doing was so incredible and then Jemaine looked at him, his eyes full of longing and love and he gasped his name again and Bret, Bret who knew him and loved him better than anyone, understood.
He drew away his fingers and Jemaine let out a tiny moan of disappointment. Bret quickly fished out the bottle again, coating himself and oh god oh god, it was hard not to just keep stroking himself because he was walking such a fine line…so close, so close…
But he drew his hand away and poured more from the bottle onto his fingers, brushing Jemaine again, preparing him and then…
Bret slowly began to push inside, surging, and Jemaine whimpered. Bret felt…he was… it was… too much…and pain was running right alongside ecstasy, intermingling, and…big…and Jemaine felt dizzy because he hadn’t taken a good, deep breath in minutes and his stomach was flip flopping.
Bret was in him.
Inside…
Bret didn’t move. Instead he waited, waited, waited. Stood on the edge, rested on the precipice, waiting for Jemaine to adjust, one hand running smoothly over Jemaine’s hair - sort of petting him and Bret buried his face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling there a moment before moving up to plant a shaky kiss on his jaw and then the side of his face.
Jemaine finally took the breath he needed and he felt like stars swam in front of his vision because he could feel Bret. He could feel all of him, “Bret…”
“…Jemaine…are you…”
Jemaine couldn’t speak again, just nodded and Bret returned the nod as he slowly began to move, cautious of his first thrust, as his shaking fingers left Jemaine’s hair, both hands going to his hips, cradling them, fingertips sinking in.
And Jemaine thought he might have wailed at the first movement - at that distinct feeling of drawing out and then pushing back in, but it didn't matter - he couldn’t help it. Bret was pushing inside, Bret was inside him and it was…
…he was falling, falling, falling…tumbling down, down, down…into…wonderland…
Jemaine moaned, his hands clutching at Bret’s back, sweaty and uncoordinated, and at first it was sort of…unpleasant. He wasn’t used to it (naturally, first time and all) and there was some discomfort, some pain.
But that was giving way to something else.
Something unnamable, something indescribable and oddly frustrating and Jemaine found himself arching up for it, rocking back into Bret’s agonizingly slow rhythm, wanting more, needing more and Bret was biting his bottom lip so hard Jemaine worried it would bleed so he pressed his face closer, silently begging and Bret kissed him, his lips and tongue sloppy but eager.
And then Bret pulled away from the kiss just that little bit and Jemaine gasped into his mouth, shuddering breaths, and Bret was doing the same and they were sort of breathing into one another. It was remarkable. It was crazy. It was perfect.
Then Bret shifted just a little and he was hitting that place inside and Jemaine was beyond rational thought, crying out and moaning, sobbing and Bret was just as lost, his own sounds just as needy and words were tumbling out of him, "Jemaine...so tight-"
And it was the best compliment Jemaine had ever had, the hottest thing, the best thing and oh please don't stop, please don't…harder now, faster…Bret inside him, so hot and hard and…
Jemaine’s head had somehow found itself pressed to Bret’s shoulder and he slowly moved it upward, a quick, delicate scratch of stubble along his cheek as it slid against Bret’s face and then he pressed a rather uncoordinated kiss onto Bret’s brow before just resting his forehead against the other man’s and he was close, so close and he couldn’t stop looking into Bret’s face and Bret’s eyes were sealed tightly shut.
Jemaine licked his lips and found his voice, thick and raspy, "Bret, please... open your eyes..."
Bret didn’t open them right away. Instead his hand seemed to float up like a forgotten ghost, finding Jemaine’s hard length and stroking it first before opening his eyes and choking out Jemaine’s name like...like he was dying and thrusting in one more time and oh oh…
Jemaine could feel Bret coming.
Inside him.
And everything fluttered away like leaves, like feathers, and Jemaine lost himself, coming, coming, lost in the surge of pure, mind-wrecking pleasure, and Bret held on tight.
It took a while for the earth to return to him, for consciousness to float back into existence, slowly, slowly, slowly. And he heard Bret still gasping for breath and that was too much like...Jemaine could barely stand it. He pulled Bret down on top of him. Held on when he tried to move. Skin and sweat and heat and the tingle all over his skin that, at this point, was almost familiar.
Sex.
They’d just had sex.
They’d had sex.
They’d had...really...a lot of sex.
And Jemaine found himself grinning like an idiot. He also found he kind of liked being crushed down under Bret’s panting weight, sweat-slick muscles, bones, and all. The sweet feeling of Bret’s heartbeat through his chest. And there was just something about being with someone you love, and who loves you right back. Who gets you, really and truly gets you, blemishes and weaknesses and all, and loves you anyway.
Bret was catching his breath and he spoke quietly, unsure and afraid, “Did I…how was it?”
“I love you.” Jemaine breathed.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No?”
“Jemaine…” Bret said warningly, tone thick and Jemaine sighed, drawing back to look into his face. He brushed Bret’s cheek tenderly, “Bret…’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“What do you want, Bret? A medal? That was…it was…um,” Jemaine found himself flushing, not really used to talking about his sexual experiences but, knowing it was important to Bret, went the extra mile, “It was the best I ever had.”
Bret blinked, then beamed and his face was so beautiful in its relief and happiness that the momentary embarrassment was worth it, “Really?”
“…yeah.”
Bret ducked his head, modest now and Jemaine rolled his eyes, dryly remarking, “If you like, I can pay you from now on…it was that good.”
Bret chuckled, shaking his head, “You couldn’t afford me.”
“Oh?”
“No.”
“So…this the last time then?”
Bret looked wickedly thoughtful, “I’m sure we can think up some sort of…payment plan.”
“Layaway love?”
Bret looked a bit more serious now, “Good song name.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.”
Bret sighed and kissed Jemaine again. Jemaine drew back, face apprehensive, “So? Feel better now? Everything…even?”
Bret shrugged, “Think so. I think…think I gave as much as I took.”
“That’s for sure,” Jemaine muttered under his breath, his blush growing worse. Catching those words and the rising color in Jemaine’s cheeks, Bret smiled again and gave him another kiss, then pulled away to get to his feet, “Think I’m going to get a quick cup of water. You want anything?”
“…can’t I just leave the bed and come with you?”
Bret’s face answered that question and Jemaine swallowed thickly, stunned, “Really?”
Bret shrugged, “You said it yourself, I’m animalistic.”
“Animalistic and freaky,” Jemaine breathed, wondering belatedly what he was getting himself into. Bret just chuckled again as he walked out to the kitchen. He saw the luggage sitting in the living room and sighed. He’d have to unpack that later.
He poured himself a cup of water and, as he sipped at it, he saw the rock and the hundred dollars sitting on the couch. He picked up the rock and set it on top of the book shelf nearby, admiring it for a moment. Then he looked at the hundred dollars.
He picked it up gingerly, turning it over in his hand. Had it been that long ago when he had first got this money and wondered where and, more importantly, what he was going to spend it on? It felt like a lifetime ago.
He thought of the lottery ticket and its three smiley faces peering up at him. At confessing his secret longings aloud to Righty and Lefty. At thinking of how he had never considered himself incredibly lucky.
He looked at the open bedroom door and shivered with remembered heat.
Smiling, Bret took the money and once again tucked it far behind his mould farm, thinking of how, in time, it would mostly likely become a forgotten artifact. He put his cup of water aside and walked back into the bedroom to see Jemaine waiting for him in his bed, his hair ruffled and his face warm and smiling.
Bret shook his head. He had never considered himself incredibly lucky…but every now and then he had his moments.
~fin~
On to epilogue