Top Gear, James/Jeremy, NC-17
Title: Well After All
Pairing: James/Jeremy
Summary: Set during the excursion to Bethlehem, where James and Jeremy's relationship is realised through one part sand, one part mutual bantering, and two parts mild concussion.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 7,179
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the wonderful kangeiko as part of the help_japan charity auction. Beta'd by extreme_queen, who is an absolute sweetheart for helping out. Any other mistakes are my own and please feel free to point them out.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Top Gear or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
James underestimates the number of places sand can get into, especially when he’s sitting in a restaurant, sipping a cold beer, and realises there’s a crunch to it.
“This stuff gets everywhere,” Jeremy complains, as though reading James’ mind, while he wriggles a forefinger in his ear. “There’s sand in my socks, pockets, and beneath what little hair I have to begin with.”
“At this point, I think less is better.” James cards his fingers through his hair and listens to the faint rustle of sand falling from the strands.
“You probably have half the desert in there, May. Hammond probably has the other half.”
James lets out a laugh and swallows another mouthful of his drink.
“Sand could be the least of our worries,” he thinks aloud as he watches two uniformed soldiers walk down the street, passing by the window they’re sitting behind.
“I don’t know,” Jeremy starts with a straight face, “an IED might do me a favour. At least it would blast all the sand out of me.”
“And blood and brains.”
“A small flaw in my plan, I admit.”
Their discussion is interrupted as Richard joins them at their table, falling heavily into a chair and picking at the dirt under his fingernails.
“This sand gets everywhere,” he complains and James smiles behind his pint as Jeremy leans forward, wearing his I-have-a-really-bad-idea-to-share face.
“Well, I just came up with a plan that can help.”
*
The yellow roses stuck in his dash are the first thing Jeremy’s questions him on when he once again rejoins the team after his car dies multiple deaths.
“Someone back in town gave them to me.”
“What did you do, lie about you identity and tell them you were a member of the British royal family?”
“People can’t be nice?”
“People are never nice, trust me, I know”
“Jeremy, you do know that everyone is rude to you because you’re rude to them first, don’t you?”
Jeremy laughs, leaning against the side of his car while an older man fills it with petrol.
“People actually like me, Jeremy.”
“Only the clearly deranged.”
*
It’s well after midnight, Richard has already made his way upstairs to his room, and it’s precisely two seconds after Richard lets the door swing shut behind him that Jeremy turns towards him, face lit up, with a smirk plastered across it.
“Oh god,” he says before Jeremy can even open his mouth.
“Hear me out,” Jeremy argues, “I think this could be my best idea yet.”
James has to admit it’s a good one, but watching Jeremy fiddle with the car’s electronics with a screwdriver in one hand and a beer in the other isn’t exactly encouraging. It could be worse, he supposes, it could be a hammer and fire.
The cameras roll just long enough to capture their vandalism, but then the crew call it a night and leave them alone to finish setting everything back into place.
“What’s the likelihood of Hammond trying to kill us after this?” Jeremy asks as he does up the second to last screw in the door’s speaker. James passes him the last one, watching Jeremy’s fingers drunkenly drag across his palm in his clumsy attempt to pick it up, before he eventually gives up and takes the screwdriver to do it himself; Jeremy doesn’t complain, just steps away with his beer and takes a long sip.
“On a scale of one to ten? Probably eleven.”
Jeremy laughs, the kind that sounds as though he’s genuinely amused and James smiles to himself.
“But remember,” he says, even though he knows the door muffles his voice, “it’ll either be Hammond or the IEDs, so choose wisely.”
Jeremy laughs again, stepping closer to peer over James’ shoulder.
“Make sure they’re tight,” he instructs, leaning down further.
“Despite what you might think, Jeremy, I am quite competent at stuff like this, and can you take a step back and stop breathing down my neck?”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“Yes,” he admits, still focussing on the job at hand.
Jeremy laughs, his breath blowing over the back of James’ neck and leans in further.
“Where’s your breaking point?” he asks, voice low.
“You might want to wait and find it at a different time, namely when I’m not holding a screwdriver.”
Another laugh, another breath over his skin, and he’s reaching blindly back with his free hand to push Jeremy away. His fingers press into Jeremy’s chest, right over his heart, he realises, as he can feel it thundering below them. James finally looks over his shoulder, knowing that something’s not quite right, and meets Jeremy’s unsmiling face; it’s just a moment and then it’s gone, Jeremy’s laugh’s rumbling about them again and he’s stepping backwards. James’ hand drops uselessly back to his side and he clears his throat before tightening the screw one last time.
The tension can easily be blamed on one too many drinks, nothing more.
He stands, nodding to Jeremy as he shuts the car door, throwing his arms out to reveal their completed handiwork.
“You know I have to say, of all the teamwork we take part in, our best side comes out when we’re picking on each other.”
“Well, right now we’re united by a common enemy: this incredibly poor choice of a car.”
He kicks the wheel gently and strolls over to pick his own beer up.
“Cheers,” Jeremy says, holding his can out as James carefully taps his against it.
“To the slow destruction of Hammond’s sanity.”
They both drink and James hopes his own mental state doesn’t get tangled up in the night’s joke.
*
He should have seen it coming; it’s a pretty poor choice to stand in the way of the rope, but it isn’t until it flips up and pulls tight across his stomach that he realises his mistake. He has enough time to think that he’s getting too old for this before he hits the ground with a dull thud and pain flairs down his spine.
It hurts, really sodding hurts. The back of his head feels like it’s on fire and he keeps his eyes clenched shut as he tries to focus on anything other than the pain. Surprisingly enough it’s Jeremy’s face that first pops into his mind. Well, it’s Jeremy’s laughing face that tells him he’s an idiot for trying to become the human rock in a giant slingshot, but it’s familiar and enough to momentarily quell the rolling sickness in his stomach.
He knows it’s bad when they cut the cameras, but a part of him is thankful for the privacy. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone’s presence at his side and then the brief touch of fingers across his brow.
“James?” comes Jeremy’s rumbling tone. He grunts in response if only to let him know he’s still alive, then continues trying not to be sick by holding very still and very quiet. “Oh thank god,” Jeremy says, though he can still hear worry in his voice, “if we’d had to say you were killed by a rock, it would have been much less exciting than if you were blown to bits by a bomb.”
James wants to laugh, but he doesn’t quite think he’s up for it. He feels Jeremy move away as others come to his side.
It’s a while before he finally sits up and Richard is the first one to mention something about a lot of blood behind him.
“That doesn’t exactly help,” Jeremy comments before James can beat him to it, and he watches as Richard moves to sit beside him while Jeremy remains standing, acting as a human sunshield.
He feels well enough to banter in front of the cameras for a little while before he finally sees the blood for himself and it turns his stomach more than he thinks it should. It’s then that he’s told they’re taking him to the nearest hospital just to make sure he’s okay, but he can live with that, he thinks, as nothing sounds better than lying down inside an air-conditioned SUV.
They load him up and the last thing he experiences in the desert is a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and Jeremy’s voice saying, “Take care. You know how hard it would be to replace you.”
James snorts gently then the door is shut behind him.
*
He blames the heat. He blames the daunting reminding presence of the bulletproof jacket and the helmet. He blames the sand and the lick of nervousness in his stomach every time someone honks at him. It’s nothing but a combination of everything, but he wonders if he’s ever truly believed that.
James opens his hotel room door to find Jeremy on the other side, looking grimy as though he still hasn’t showered.
“May,” he says in greeting and James just steps back, letting him inside.
“Just making sure you haven’t collapsed in a convulsing heap yet.”
Jeremy leans back against the whirring air conditioning unit and James stands a few paces away, arms folded over his chest.
“You weren’t worried about me, were you?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jeremy replies, but his expression says otherwise.
“Trust me, the bandage makes it look worse. If anything, it’s my back; you should see the bruise there.”
“Okay then,” he says and James laughs, but Jeremy looks surprisingly serious. He pauses, waiting for Jeremy to crack a joke and move on, but he just motions for James to show him his back.
He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and tugs the collar down enough that the edge of the purpled mark shows. Jeremy stands, moving closer as he stares at it. A finger gently prods at the edge of it, but it still hurts.
“Ow,” he says trying to be as nonchalant as possible about it, though he doesn’t even have to move and it throbs painfully. “Can I remind you that this did just happen.”
“You should have known it was an accident waiting to happen.”
“Well at the time, it didn’t register. Everything is easier in hindsight.”
“Just be careful.”
James doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he settles for a small huffed laugh and a quiet, “Okay,” as he tugs his shirt back up, ignore the way Jeremy’s hand blocks it for just a moment before it disappears. He turns to find Jeremy’s face set in a serious expression.
“I mean it,” he says and James wonders what sort of parallel universe he’s fallen into.
“I said ‘okay’,” he replies, but it takes him aback when Jeremy won’t stop staring, as though waiting for James to say something else, but he can’t promise him more than okay. If he falls and dashes his brain out on another rock, it’ll just happen; that’s the way things go.
“I was worried.”
“I thought you were lying earlier.” He smiles at his own joke, trying to lighten the situation, but apparently that’s not what Jeremy wants because his frown deepens and James sighs in defeat. “Is this where I apologise for letting an accident happen?”
“It’s where you apologise for driving me half mad when I didn’t know if you were going to be okay or not.”
“So, essentially what I just said. Anyway, I didn’t force you to care, Jeremy, it’s that pesky notion of friendship we have going on.”
Jeremy can’t seem to keep his hands still; he bites at the skin around his thumbnail, places his hands on his hips, before finally slipping them into the pockets of his jeans.
“I had to keep up a cool façade while the cameras were on and the crew were about.”
“Otherwise you would have held me like a damsel in distress and given me the kiss of life, even though I didn’t need it?”
“Something like that. Is it too late now?”
“Just a bit. Let’s just say, if I’d actually needed proper help, I’d be dead by now.”
Jeremy seems to ponder this for a beat, humming absentmindedly in the back of his throat.
“Do you think we should be absolutely sure? To make sure there are no doubts?”
James laughs, but the way Jeremy stares makes him think that maybe things have suddenly started spiralling out of the joke zone and into the this-is-dangerous-back away territory. He nervously fiddles with the buttons on his shirt, finally doing them back up while he watches Jeremy’s eyes follow the movements of his fingers.
He doesn’t move as Jeremy reaches out and carefully takes a hold of his right arm. He flattens James’ hand out, so his fingers rest over Jeremy’s palm and with his other hand, he slowly traces a finger over the slight cuts on James’ knuckles.
“Did you get these today too?”
James nods, but Jeremy’s isn’t looking, too busy focussing on his skin. Jeremy’s finger makes its way further up James’ arm, stopping to carefully twist it when he reaches a particularly nasty graze on James’ elbow.
He wouldn’t say it was unwanted, necessarily, just - he tries to think of a word, any word, which is harder than it should be in the given circumstances - unexpected, that’s the one he’s looking for.
“Did they give you anything for these?”
“Just sprayed them with antiseptic, which should do the trick; they’re mostly superficial.”
Jeremy’s hands finally cup either side of his bandaged head, holding him still, for a reason James still hasn’t fathomed.
“It’s just at the back,” James says, feeling the faint brush of Jeremy’s thumbs even through the gauze. “The front’s fine.”
“Did they say anything about a concussion?”
“Just that it was mild, nothing to really worry about.”
Jeremy doesn’t look convinced and for some reason it makes James laugh.
“Well, Doctor Clarkson, what’s your opinion? Hopeless cause?”
Jeremy doesn’t answer and James is about to step back and end the joke he’s sure Jeremy’s playing on him, but fingers curl around the bandages and pull him upwards slightly, letting Jeremy brush his lips over James’ own. Now that’s unexpected, he thinks, too stunned to pull away, but he doesn’t need to because Jeremy does that for him, looking just as shocked.
For a moment the room is deathly silent, the hum of the fan still going is the only thing James can hear, but he can’t help but break it.
“Didn’t you once say that only - if I remember correctly - the clearly deranged liked me?”
Jeremy clears his throat, but his expression is one of relief - possibly over the fact that James hasn’t just punched him in the face and left.
“Well, if we’re being honest,” he says quietly, “I think I am.”
“Any reason for the sudden mental collapse?”
“The heat probably,” Jeremy replies and James blinks, humoured by how alike they truly are. “Also, I know we played it up for the viewers, but I was thinking about what would happen if you did lose your memory.”
“So you thought you’d do something while I did remember? I don’t think even memory loss would let me forget you, you oaf. I think I’m stuck with you.”
Jeremy pauses, looking strangely unsure of himself - it’s not something James sees often - but he doesn’t know how much clearer he can be. He’s okay with whatever weird feelings Jeremy’s managed to tangle himself up in, partially because he’s intrigued, but mostly because Jeremy’s beat him to the punch. It feels a lot like some teenage romance novel in how cliché it all seems, but if he’s honest, he’s been waiting rather a long time and it’s nice to know it hasn’t been for nothing.
“Did you want me to leave?” Jeremy asks and James finds himself holding back a laugh. He still hasn’t got it, he realises.
“No,” James replies and Jeremy’s brows furrow.
“Oh.
James thinks himself lucky that he didn’t have to clobber Jeremy over the head to get him to understand. If both of them had head injuries, it wouldn’t end well, he knows.
There’s a pause as Jeremy stares at him, apparently trying to figure out what he’s going to do next, because after a few beats he finally steps forward and dips down towards James, pressing their lips together again. Now he has the time to realise what’s happening, he notices that it’s different to what he’s used to, no one he’s kissed in the past has ever given him stubble-burn.
He rests his hands on Jeremy’s hips, which Jeremy seems to take as some sort of sign because he carefully cradles James’ head again and deepens the kiss with gentle flicks of his tongue. For a moment, James freezes up, the sheer strangeness of the situation finally overwhelming him, but as he watches Jeremy’s relaxed face, he finds himself closing his eyes and parting his lips. Things progress quickly as James feels Jeremy’s tongue against his own and Jeremy moves even closer, bringing their bodies flush together. The press of Jeremy’s stomach against his own is something unfamiliar but not unwelcome with its warmth and the reminder that it’s just Jeremy, the same one he has known for approximately forever now.
Jeremy slowly manoeuvres James backwards and it’s when his shoulders hit the wall and pain blossoms down his back that James pulls away, breathing only just a little bit harder than normal, eyes beginning to water from the low ache of his bruise.
“Oh god,” Jeremy says pulling back; James holds up a hand to quiet him.
“It’s fine, it’s nothing.”
“No, it just made things even worse.”
“To be fair, a bruise is a bruise. If you’ve added one more, I’m sure I won’t notice.”
It’s then that there’s a knock on the door and Richard’s voice floats through the thin wood.
“James? Dinner? Is Jeremy with you?”
They stare at each other for a moment then James answers without looking away.
“Be there in a minute. We’ll meet you downstairs.”
Richard taps to signal his leaving and James pockets his room key and wallet from the edge of the bed.
“Are we okay?” Jeremy asks fiddling with his own shirt and James can’t help the huffed laugh he lets out.
“The tongue in your mouth didn’t make it clear enough?”
“No, well - ” Jeremy cuts himself off and falls silent. “Right.”
James waves an arm towards the door, silently ushering Jeremy out.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeremy asks.
James pauses for a moment, letting Jeremy register the change, then lets a blank expression wash over his face.
“Who are you again?” he asks and Jeremy gives him all of two seconds before calling him a pillock.
“Well, apparently that’s what you go for,” James counters, holding the door open.
*
It seems as though they’re not allowed a moment of alone time, which isn’t exactly surprising when they’re travelling as quickly as they can through dangerous lands. He enjoys the night of teasing Hammond endlessly while eating brain and sheep head, but he’s truly too exhausted to do more than wave them both goodnight and fall half-dead into bed.
It’s as though nothing’s changed as they the three of them drive madly down windy mountain roads, driving speeds they don’t allow the cameras to see. The sight of the Sea of Galilee truly takes James’ breath away; it’s a view he’s never expected to see in his lifetime.
As the sun slowly sets, Richard calls it a night and hops into his car, following the crew to their next hotel. Jeremy gets directions, making an excuse James can’t hear, but expects is terrible anyway. The dust settles around them and James sits on the bonnet of his car, hearing the faint squeak of the suspension under his weight. With his feet on the front bumper, he’s happy enough with such a beautiful sight in front of him. That is until Jeremy blocks his view.
“I didn’t get you alone so we could look at nature,” he says, but James knows he’s joking. He hums nonchalantly and shrugs, but Jeremy steps between his knees and lowers his voice. “I’m serious.”
James can’t help but take notice of the gravely tone of Jeremy’s voice, deep and rumbling and, if he’s allowed to say it, a little bit sultry.
“What would you suggest instead? I have a couple of books in the boot, so we could read if you wanted to.”
Jeremy moves closer, placing his hands on the sun-warmed metal either side of James’ waist. James waits until the last minute to tilt his head back, allowing Jeremy to brush their lips together chastely. He draws back, content with just the simple contact, but apparently Jeremy isn’t satisfied as he slips a hand behind James’ head, fingers gentle against his still painful skull, and pulls him back in.
Jeremy seems to be happy to ignore the heat of the day that still hangs around them, despite the setting sun, as he presses into James’ body, spreading warmth through him, especially as the kiss intensifies. James’ own fingers curl into the material of Jeremy’s shirt at the shoulders, gripping and holding on as Jeremy kisses him deeply, spreading the taste of just-eaten sweeties across his own tongue. James’ knees fall further apart, allowing Jeremy even closer; Jeremy doesn’t spare a minute before he’s pressing in, gently rocking his hips into James’. It makes him feel like a teenager again as he opens his eyes and glances around, making sure they’re still alone, but never once breaking away from Jeremy’s mouth.
He pulls at Jeremy’s shirt, urging him to lean more of his weight onto him, and Jeremy complies without complaint. The shift in position presses their groins flush together and if James isn’t imagining things, he feels the hardness of Jeremy’s cock between them. Without thinking, he pushes a hand between them, palming over the front of Jeremy’s jeans, his knuckles dragging over his own half-formed erection. Jeremy breaks the kiss, letting out a low groan, as he rolls his hips into the pressure.
“Does this seem a bit blasphemous to you?” Jeremy breathes against his neck, voice strained with want, and James can’t help but laugh.
“Very,” he replies, but pulls Jeremy’s mouth back to his own with his free hand.
The bonnet creaks under their combined weight, but James doesn’t try to move away. One of Jeremy’s hands works itself under the hem of his shirt, pressing against his stomach, which he’s sure would be a lot sexier if he were once again in his teenage years, but as Jeremy’s own belly pushes against him, he realises it comes with the territory.
He lifts a leg and wraps it around the backs of Jeremy’s thighs, keeping them close together and Jeremy lets out another deep noise that rumbles through James’ chest. Jeremy breaks the kiss, letting his face fall into the crook of James’ neck and he lets out a long sigh.
“I think we should wait,” Jeremy says, voice muffled against James’ skin, but still audible.
James lets his leg fall back down and slips his hand out from between them, letting it drop to the bonnet again.
With a grunt, Jeremy rights himself, putting distance back between them.
“You think we shouldn’t rush?” James asks, carefully sitting up.
“No, I’m all for rushing, you know me, I just think we should wait until we’re back home. Less desert and fewer men with guns.”
James laughs and says, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but there’s sand everywhere and I’m sure we’ll end up like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.”
Jeremy winces and nods.
“Right, that’s sorted then. I expect an invitation as soon as we’re back on British soil.”
“I think I can manage that,” James says as Jeremy pulls him into one last kiss.
*
It takes a day to lose the minor jetlag, but a week to get over the physical effects of slight exhaustion and the sense of dread that always hung around while abroad. He has to admit he prefers being tucked up in the safety of his own home again. However, the thing weighing on his mind now is Jeremy’s proposal; not that he doesn’t want it, more that he doesn’t know how to go about everything.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t apprehensive about the whole thing. He’s not exactly an expert on anything remotely related to starting something with another man, and he winds up perusing the internet - with the safe search on - to find anything at all helpful. He doesn’t write it down, mostly because if Jeremy were to get a hold of it, he’d never hear the end, but he makes a mental checklist of three things: condoms, some sort of lubrication, and preparation. Seems simple enough and as Jeremy always says, How hard can it be?
*
He showers and probably scrubs himself down a little too hard, as his skin turns pink, the kind of shade that looks like a sunburn and stays that way until he’s dressed and back downstairs putting dinner in the oven. The doorbell rings exactly fifteen minutes after the time Jeremy said he’d show up, which never changes, a habit which James has learned to work around. Jeremy stands on the stoop, a bottle of chardonnay in his hand like a peace offering, and if James is honest, it feels like every other night Jeremy has been over. However, the kiss Jeremy quickly gives him is rather different, though not at all unwelcome.
“You know where the corkscrew is,” James says, letting the door close behind Jeremy and waving an arm in the general direction of the kitchen. He follows behind, wondering if the scent he can smell means Jeremy scrubbed up as much as he did and he laughs silently to himself; Jeremy must be anxious, though he’s sure he’d never admit it.
They drink a quarter of the bottle before James can even dish up the food, Jeremy pressing a glass into his hand and standing closer than usual while they slowly finish them. It gets to the point where James finally orders Jeremy to sit at the table, just to keep him out of the way, while he fills two plates and brings them back over.
“Eat,” he instructs, filling their glasses again and Jeremy wastes no time before complying.
*
After more wine, James finally feels himself begin to relax, though he knows he doesn’t have anything to worry about to begin with. It’s Jeremy he’s dealing with, not some stranger.
“That was good,” Jeremy compliments, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. James collects the empty dishes and sets them in the sink to soak, while he waves Jeremy back through into the lounge, where they make themselves comfortable on the settee.
Jeremy, blunt as ever, starts the conversation with, “So, do you know how this gay sex business works?”
James almost gives up hope, but he sees the laughter in Jeremy’s eyes and huffs a laugh.
“Yes,” he says, and gets the reaction he’d been looking for.
Jeremy’s eyes go wide as he says, “You’ve done it with a man before?”
“No, Jeremy,” James says as though it should be obvious, “I looked it up.”
Jeremy allows him a beat of silence before laughing.
“James, when you were sixteen and about to lose your virginity, did you by any chance check human anatomy books out of the library and place them open about your bedroom?” He holds up his hands and shakes his head. “No, wait, don’t answer that; of course you did.”
“There’s nothing wrong with practicality.”
Jeremy stares for a moment then shifts closer, sliding his hands over James’ hips and leaning down over him.
“Spontaneity is good too, don’t you think?”
“Practical spontaneity.”
Jeremy laughs, but tilts James’ chin up and kisses him anyway.
“You’re in charge of the former. I’ll deal with the latter.”
“Well, Mr Spontaneous, come upstairs in two minutes and we’ll see.”
James slips from Jeremy’s grasp without waiting for confirmation, but knows Jeremy will be there. He takes the stairs two at a time, rushing to the bedroom to make sure the lube and condoms are easily accessible on the bedside cabinet. He straightens the duvet, unsure of whether he should fold it down or leave it as it is. He toes off his shoes in the corner and has just enough time to close the window before Jeremy raps a knuckle against the doorframe.
He turns to find him wearing nothing but a grin and he feels his eyebrows shoot upwards before he can stop them.
“Spontaneous enough for you?” Jeremy asks, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t let his eyes wander down the length of Jeremy’s body. Unsurprisingly, it looks almost the same as his own middle-aged body, but that it belongs to Jeremy makes it more than that, something James knows is a privilege to see.
“You’re a bit overdressed now, James,” he jokes and James is proud of the fact that his fingers don’t even tremble as he lifts the hem of his sweater and pulls it over his head. He moves to take off his t-shirt, but Jeremy steps closer, slipping his hands under it and bunching it up under James’ arms, until he finally raises them and lets Jeremy tug it off. He drops it on the floor and finally leans down to kiss James again, running his tongue over his bottom lip before gently grazing his teeth over it. James doesn’t know where to put his hands, but settles for resting them on Jeremy’s hipbones, running his thumbs over the soft skin below.
Carefully, he pushes Jeremy back just hard enough for him to realise he’s trying to steer him towards the bed and he follows James’ direction without their mouths breaking contact. He sits on the edge of the mattress, James leaning over him and kissing downwards, sliding his tongue slowly against Jeremy’s. Jeremy breathes a quiet moan into his mouth before James eventually pulls away as he drops to his knees between Jeremy’s legs.
Looking down at Jeremy’s half-hard cock is a lot more daunting than he’d previously believed it would be. Glancing back up, Jeremy looks as though he’s about to say something, but before anything escapes his mouth, James wraps a hand around Jeremy’s erection, gently stroking. It’s truly not unlike touching himself and as he begins to tighten his grip and pump faster, Jeremy leans back onto his palms, letting his knees falls open. He rubs his thumb over the head, feeling the softness of Jeremy’s skin under his hands.
Before he can think too much about it, he dips his head down, running his tongue over the tip of Jeremy’s cock, tasting nothing but the tang of skin and something heady underneath.
Jeremy lets out a surprised Oh at the contact, apparently not at all expecting James to make the first move, but he doesn’t seem to have any trouble in sliding his hand to the back of James’ head, carding his fingers through his hair and gripping just tight enough for James to feel the tug.
His touches are tentative at best; his lips brushing down the side of Jeremy’s cock, tongue flicking out at random intervals, but Jeremy seems okay with it all. He hums his appreciation in the back of his throat and pulls James’ hair just a little harder. It tugs his scalp briefly, irritating the gradually healing cut on his head, but he can live with it for the moment; as long as it doesn’t start to bleed again they’ll be fine.
He finally wraps his lips around the head of Jeremy’s cock, keeping his teeth out of the way as he bobs his head down, keeping the movements shallow to avoid testing his gag reflex. Jeremy’s hips move, just barely, as he works his lips and tongue around him, realising too belatedly that he can’t help the saliva that runs out the corner of his mouth, slicking up the length of Jeremy’s cock that doesn’t quite fit between his lips. He grips it with a free hand, using the wetness to lessen the friction of his strokes as he continues to suck on the rest.
“Oh god, James,” Jeremy breathes out, only just louder than the wet noises coming from James’ mouth. The fingers in James’ hair tightens and he can’t help but let Jeremy slip from between his lips as his head tips backwards from the strength of the grip. He grunts softly as Jeremy’s cock bumps against his cheek, rubbing drops of precome into his skin, but he can’t move. He keeps his gaze upon Jeremy’s own and doesn’t protest as Jeremy leans down, attaching his lips to the side of James’ neck and sucking. An insistent tongue presses against his skin, flicking teasingly under the warmth of Jeremy’s mouth.
With a quick nip of teeth, Jeremy lets him go completely, then hooks his hands under James’ elbows, helping him stand back up again. Heavy fingers wrestle with his belt, before Jeremy’s finally able to undo James’ jeans, tugging them down his legs along with his underwear. James knows he’s hard and a light flush of embarrassment washes over his face at the realisation that it’s because of having Jeremy in his mouth. Jeremy seems to have no objections as he pulls James down to the bed with him, letting him sprawl out beside him on top of cool sheets.
“I have condoms,” James says, reaching across to the nightstand to grab one and the bottle of lube. “Just keeping up the practicality part of our bargain.”
“Okay,” Jeremy starts, “so how do we do this? How do we decide who gets to be the woman?”
“That’s not the way it goes,” James sighs. “There’s nothing wrong with being penetrated.”
“I think you just killed my erection.”
“Well, that means you’ll just have to lie there then, doesn’t it?”
Jeremy takes the bottle of lube and pops it open, spreading it across his fingers.
“Too late,” he says as he pushes apart James’ legs with his clean hand and moves to run a fingertip across James’ entrance. James flinches at the contact, but doesn’t protest as it begins to slip inside.
“Just take it slow,” he says on an exhale, trying to keep his voice even. It’s certainly a new feeling, but not necessarily unwanted, not when he knows what it will eventually lead to. He palms his own cock slowly, helping himself to relax as the finger inside him moves. Jeremy gently crooks it, rubbing carefully within him and that’s when he feels the prickling of pleasure low in his gut. He lets out a soft breath and Jeremy apparently takes it to be one of pain as he pulls his hand away, leaving James empty and in need of more.
“No,” he explains, gripping Jeremy’s wrist and tugging it back between his legs. “Keep going.”
“How does it feel?”
“Good. Don’t know what it is though; didn’t get that far in my research.”
Jeremy pushes two fingers into him this time, giving James more time to adjust, but soon he’s back to rubbing against the spot that slowly deprives James of the ability to think.
“Is it okay?” Jeremy asks, and James nods his head in response.
“Very.”
The third finger is a bit more of a struggle, but with more lube and slow kisses, James’ body accepts it, until it gets the point where he realises he’s on the brink of coming. He stills Jeremy’s hand with his own, breathing hard as he tries to say something but can’t. Jeremy seems to understand as he drags his fingers out and begins to prepare himself, rolling on a condom and spreading lubricant over his cock, giving James a few moments to collect himself.
“I didn’t think it would be this simple,” Jeremy admits, to which James lets out a huffed laugh.
“Easy for you say.”
“Right,” says Jeremy, as though they’re about to start another Top Gear challenge. “What position do we go for? I’m not one to make assumptions, but I hardly think your legs are going to get over my shoulders.”
“Why would they need to?”
“Isn’t that the way they do it on the internet?”
“Jeremy, you’ve seen the sort of stuff that shows up on the internet; I think we should just make it as comfortable as possible.”
Jeremy leans over him, going in for a kiss to which James responds unabashedly. It takes a moment for him to realise, but as Jeremy continues to kiss him for longer, it dawns on him; he pulls away gently.
“Are you stalling?”
Jeremy looks as though he’s going to protest for all of ten seconds before he relents.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits and James can’t help but press their lips together one more time.
“We’ll take it slow and it’ll be fine.”
Nodding in understanding, Jeremy kneels between James’ legs, pushing them open once again as he takes a hold of his own cock and lines it up with James’ entrance. Exhaling slowly, James nods his head slightly and Jeremy begins to push into him. It hurts, there’s no getting around it, but it’s more of a burn than anything else.
“Okay?”
“I’m not going to break, Jeremy,” James complains, voice hitching just as Jeremy manages to get the head of his cock inside. James grabs Jeremy’s side, stilling him for a moment while he catches his breath. “More lube,” he suggests and Jeremy wastes no time in reaching for the discarded bottle, applying more to that which has yet to fit inside James.
It’s a long moment before James finally lets Jeremy move again, sinking slowly into him, bit by bit. Jeremy double, triple, and quadruple checks to make sure James is okay, but James keeps nodding because with the extra lube everything is a lot smoother. He wraps his legs around Jeremy’s waist and tightens them to draw Jeremy in the rest of the way. Jeremy lets out a moan and this time it’s James waiting for Jeremy to regain his composure.
“Move,” James insists, and it’s only a few beats before Jeremy begins to pull back. It feels strange, a sensation he’s not at all accustomed to, but as Jeremy pushes back in, he brushes up against the spot inside him that makes his toes curl and he can’t help but cant his hips up. Placing a hand on James’ shoulder, Jeremy begins to thrust in earnest, keeping the movements quick and shallow, which James is perfectly okay with as it increases the amount of times Jeremy makes him cry out in pleasure.
“Christ, James,” Jeremy says, his lips close to James’ ear, teeth barely grazing his skin as he sucks the lobe into his mouth.
James certainly wasn’t expecting things to feel this good. He had thought it would end with a lot of lube everywhere, a lot of stress, and possibly at least one broken bone, knowing Jeremy.
“Still okay?”
If he wasn’t so busy fighting off an impending orgasm, James would have a rather long response, something including a lot of swear words and perhaps one or two pleas for more interspersed.
Instead, he settles for a resounding, “Yes!”
Jeremy laughs lightly at his response, but it’s Jeremy’s hand that undoes him. Fingers brush his cock, which is trapped between their stomachs, tracing along the sides with barely-there touches before wrapping tightly around him and stroking him off with quick movements. His legs tighten around Jeremy’s waist and his hands dig into the mattress below as he comes across Jeremy’s knuckles. It’s one of the hardest orgasms he’s had to date and he can’t even find the strength to move, leaving Jeremy to continue thrusting into him, breathing hard and repeating James’ name quietly. His hips falter and James almost believes he can feel the way Jeremy’s cock twitches as Jeremy finally follows suit, collapsing onto his chest and knocking all the wind out of him.
By the time James catches his breath, Jeremy has already pulled out and disposed of the condom in the bin. He sits on the edge of the bed apologising profusely, while trying to clean them both up with tissues.
“Jeremy. Jeremy,” James says, rubbing his own chest with a shaking hand. “It’s fine, accidents happen. We’re not as young and durable as we once were.”
Jeremy kisses him gently, but gives in, sliding back the sheets and pulling them over both of their cooling bodies. There’s a long silence before Jeremy breaks it.
“That was bloody fantastic, though, you have to admit.”
James laughs quietly, but hums in agreement. Shifting slightly to give them both more room he realises that his body has already begun to ache.
“You know what I said about not being young and durable anymore? You might have to carry me around tomorrow.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jeremy says. “Perhaps a compromise is in order? How about we just stay in bed all day?”
James laughs again.
“Goodnight, Jeremy,”
*
James is brushing his teeth as Jeremy stumbles naked into the bathroom, flicking on the shower and letting the water warm up. James watches him in the mirror and raises an eyebrow when Jeremy finally looks up.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks as James spits a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink before rinsing his mouth quickly.
“I tried, but I don’t think you could hear me talking to you over the noise of your snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” Jeremy complains, despite his claim being a blatant lie. “I sleep like a baby.”
“Yes, I suspect you do, but no one else within a mile radius does.”
“You’ll grow bored of complaining one of these days.”
“As long as you keep snoring, I’ll keep moaning.”
A smirk makes its way onto Jeremy’s face before James realises what he’s just said.
“Is that so?”
Jeremy advances towards him, but James casually pushes him away.
“You’re insatiable. Five weekends in a row you’ve spent the night and you’re still not bored of me?”
“Certainly not. Now, if you’re done talking, I have something else in mind for us to do.”
He catches a hold of James’ wrist and tugs him towards the shower, stepping in and waiting expectantly for James to take off his shirt and boxers.
“Things won’t always be this easy; you do understand that, don’t you, Jeremy?”
“Yes, well, we’ll think about that when the time comes. Until then, I say we enjoy it.”
He leans down to kiss James softly, then wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him under the spray of water, clothes and all. James splutters in annoyance, trying to escape, but it takes all of ten seconds for Jeremy to convince him otherwise.
Pairing: James/Jeremy
Summary: Set during the excursion to Bethlehem, where James and Jeremy's relationship is realised through one part sand, one part mutual bantering, and two parts mild concussion.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 7,179
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the wonderful kangeiko as part of the help_japan charity auction. Beta'd by extreme_queen, who is an absolute sweetheart for helping out. Any other mistakes are my own and please feel free to point them out.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Top Gear or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
James underestimates the number of places sand can get into, especially when he’s sitting in a restaurant, sipping a cold beer, and realises there’s a crunch to it.
“This stuff gets everywhere,” Jeremy complains, as though reading James’ mind, while he wriggles a forefinger in his ear. “There’s sand in my socks, pockets, and beneath what little hair I have to begin with.”
“At this point, I think less is better.” James cards his fingers through his hair and listens to the faint rustle of sand falling from the strands.
“You probably have half the desert in there, May. Hammond probably has the other half.”
James lets out a laugh and swallows another mouthful of his drink.
“Sand could be the least of our worries,” he thinks aloud as he watches two uniformed soldiers walk down the street, passing by the window they’re sitting behind.
“I don’t know,” Jeremy starts with a straight face, “an IED might do me a favour. At least it would blast all the sand out of me.”
“And blood and brains.”
“A small flaw in my plan, I admit.”
Their discussion is interrupted as Richard joins them at their table, falling heavily into a chair and picking at the dirt under his fingernails.
“This sand gets everywhere,” he complains and James smiles behind his pint as Jeremy leans forward, wearing his I-have-a-really-bad-idea-to-share face.
“Well, I just came up with a plan that can help.”
*
The yellow roses stuck in his dash are the first thing Jeremy’s questions him on when he once again rejoins the team after his car dies multiple deaths.
“Someone back in town gave them to me.”
“What did you do, lie about you identity and tell them you were a member of the British royal family?”
“People can’t be nice?”
“People are never nice, trust me, I know”
“Jeremy, you do know that everyone is rude to you because you’re rude to them first, don’t you?”
Jeremy laughs, leaning against the side of his car while an older man fills it with petrol.
“People actually like me, Jeremy.”
“Only the clearly deranged.”
*
It’s well after midnight, Richard has already made his way upstairs to his room, and it’s precisely two seconds after Richard lets the door swing shut behind him that Jeremy turns towards him, face lit up, with a smirk plastered across it.
“Oh god,” he says before Jeremy can even open his mouth.
“Hear me out,” Jeremy argues, “I think this could be my best idea yet.”
James has to admit it’s a good one, but watching Jeremy fiddle with the car’s electronics with a screwdriver in one hand and a beer in the other isn’t exactly encouraging. It could be worse, he supposes, it could be a hammer and fire.
The cameras roll just long enough to capture their vandalism, but then the crew call it a night and leave them alone to finish setting everything back into place.
“What’s the likelihood of Hammond trying to kill us after this?” Jeremy asks as he does up the second to last screw in the door’s speaker. James passes him the last one, watching Jeremy’s fingers drunkenly drag across his palm in his clumsy attempt to pick it up, before he eventually gives up and takes the screwdriver to do it himself; Jeremy doesn’t complain, just steps away with his beer and takes a long sip.
“On a scale of one to ten? Probably eleven.”
Jeremy laughs, the kind that sounds as though he’s genuinely amused and James smiles to himself.
“But remember,” he says, even though he knows the door muffles his voice, “it’ll either be Hammond or the IEDs, so choose wisely.”
Jeremy laughs again, stepping closer to peer over James’ shoulder.
“Make sure they’re tight,” he instructs, leaning down further.
“Despite what you might think, Jeremy, I am quite competent at stuff like this, and can you take a step back and stop breathing down my neck?”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“Yes,” he admits, still focussing on the job at hand.
Jeremy laughs, his breath blowing over the back of James’ neck and leans in further.
“Where’s your breaking point?” he asks, voice low.
“You might want to wait and find it at a different time, namely when I’m not holding a screwdriver.”
Another laugh, another breath over his skin, and he’s reaching blindly back with his free hand to push Jeremy away. His fingers press into Jeremy’s chest, right over his heart, he realises, as he can feel it thundering below them. James finally looks over his shoulder, knowing that something’s not quite right, and meets Jeremy’s unsmiling face; it’s just a moment and then it’s gone, Jeremy’s laugh’s rumbling about them again and he’s stepping backwards. James’ hand drops uselessly back to his side and he clears his throat before tightening the screw one last time.
The tension can easily be blamed on one too many drinks, nothing more.
He stands, nodding to Jeremy as he shuts the car door, throwing his arms out to reveal their completed handiwork.
“You know I have to say, of all the teamwork we take part in, our best side comes out when we’re picking on each other.”
“Well, right now we’re united by a common enemy: this incredibly poor choice of a car.”
He kicks the wheel gently and strolls over to pick his own beer up.
“Cheers,” Jeremy says, holding his can out as James carefully taps his against it.
“To the slow destruction of Hammond’s sanity.”
They both drink and James hopes his own mental state doesn’t get tangled up in the night’s joke.
*
He should have seen it coming; it’s a pretty poor choice to stand in the way of the rope, but it isn’t until it flips up and pulls tight across his stomach that he realises his mistake. He has enough time to think that he’s getting too old for this before he hits the ground with a dull thud and pain flairs down his spine.
It hurts, really sodding hurts. The back of his head feels like it’s on fire and he keeps his eyes clenched shut as he tries to focus on anything other than the pain. Surprisingly enough it’s Jeremy’s face that first pops into his mind. Well, it’s Jeremy’s laughing face that tells him he’s an idiot for trying to become the human rock in a giant slingshot, but it’s familiar and enough to momentarily quell the rolling sickness in his stomach.
He knows it’s bad when they cut the cameras, but a part of him is thankful for the privacy. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone’s presence at his side and then the brief touch of fingers across his brow.
“James?” comes Jeremy’s rumbling tone. He grunts in response if only to let him know he’s still alive, then continues trying not to be sick by holding very still and very quiet. “Oh thank god,” Jeremy says, though he can still hear worry in his voice, “if we’d had to say you were killed by a rock, it would have been much less exciting than if you were blown to bits by a bomb.”
James wants to laugh, but he doesn’t quite think he’s up for it. He feels Jeremy move away as others come to his side.
It’s a while before he finally sits up and Richard is the first one to mention something about a lot of blood behind him.
“That doesn’t exactly help,” Jeremy comments before James can beat him to it, and he watches as Richard moves to sit beside him while Jeremy remains standing, acting as a human sunshield.
He feels well enough to banter in front of the cameras for a little while before he finally sees the blood for himself and it turns his stomach more than he thinks it should. It’s then that he’s told they’re taking him to the nearest hospital just to make sure he’s okay, but he can live with that, he thinks, as nothing sounds better than lying down inside an air-conditioned SUV.
They load him up and the last thing he experiences in the desert is a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and Jeremy’s voice saying, “Take care. You know how hard it would be to replace you.”
James snorts gently then the door is shut behind him.
*
He blames the heat. He blames the daunting reminding presence of the bulletproof jacket and the helmet. He blames the sand and the lick of nervousness in his stomach every time someone honks at him. It’s nothing but a combination of everything, but he wonders if he’s ever truly believed that.
James opens his hotel room door to find Jeremy on the other side, looking grimy as though he still hasn’t showered.
“May,” he says in greeting and James just steps back, letting him inside.
“Just making sure you haven’t collapsed in a convulsing heap yet.”
Jeremy leans back against the whirring air conditioning unit and James stands a few paces away, arms folded over his chest.
“You weren’t worried about me, were you?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jeremy replies, but his expression says otherwise.
“Trust me, the bandage makes it look worse. If anything, it’s my back; you should see the bruise there.”
“Okay then,” he says and James laughs, but Jeremy looks surprisingly serious. He pauses, waiting for Jeremy to crack a joke and move on, but he just motions for James to show him his back.
He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and tugs the collar down enough that the edge of the purpled mark shows. Jeremy stands, moving closer as he stares at it. A finger gently prods at the edge of it, but it still hurts.
“Ow,” he says trying to be as nonchalant as possible about it, though he doesn’t even have to move and it throbs painfully. “Can I remind you that this did just happen.”
“You should have known it was an accident waiting to happen.”
“Well at the time, it didn’t register. Everything is easier in hindsight.”
“Just be careful.”
James doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he settles for a small huffed laugh and a quiet, “Okay,” as he tugs his shirt back up, ignore the way Jeremy’s hand blocks it for just a moment before it disappears. He turns to find Jeremy’s face set in a serious expression.
“I mean it,” he says and James wonders what sort of parallel universe he’s fallen into.
“I said ‘okay’,” he replies, but it takes him aback when Jeremy won’t stop staring, as though waiting for James to say something else, but he can’t promise him more than okay. If he falls and dashes his brain out on another rock, it’ll just happen; that’s the way things go.
“I was worried.”
“I thought you were lying earlier.” He smiles at his own joke, trying to lighten the situation, but apparently that’s not what Jeremy wants because his frown deepens and James sighs in defeat. “Is this where I apologise for letting an accident happen?”
“It’s where you apologise for driving me half mad when I didn’t know if you were going to be okay or not.”
“So, essentially what I just said. Anyway, I didn’t force you to care, Jeremy, it’s that pesky notion of friendship we have going on.”
Jeremy can’t seem to keep his hands still; he bites at the skin around his thumbnail, places his hands on his hips, before finally slipping them into the pockets of his jeans.
“I had to keep up a cool façade while the cameras were on and the crew were about.”
“Otherwise you would have held me like a damsel in distress and given me the kiss of life, even though I didn’t need it?”
“Something like that. Is it too late now?”
“Just a bit. Let’s just say, if I’d actually needed proper help, I’d be dead by now.”
Jeremy seems to ponder this for a beat, humming absentmindedly in the back of his throat.
“Do you think we should be absolutely sure? To make sure there are no doubts?”
James laughs, but the way Jeremy stares makes him think that maybe things have suddenly started spiralling out of the joke zone and into the this-is-dangerous-back away territory. He nervously fiddles with the buttons on his shirt, finally doing them back up while he watches Jeremy’s eyes follow the movements of his fingers.
He doesn’t move as Jeremy reaches out and carefully takes a hold of his right arm. He flattens James’ hand out, so his fingers rest over Jeremy’s palm and with his other hand, he slowly traces a finger over the slight cuts on James’ knuckles.
“Did you get these today too?”
James nods, but Jeremy’s isn’t looking, too busy focussing on his skin. Jeremy’s finger makes its way further up James’ arm, stopping to carefully twist it when he reaches a particularly nasty graze on James’ elbow.
He wouldn’t say it was unwanted, necessarily, just - he tries to think of a word, any word, which is harder than it should be in the given circumstances - unexpected, that’s the one he’s looking for.
“Did they give you anything for these?”
“Just sprayed them with antiseptic, which should do the trick; they’re mostly superficial.”
Jeremy’s hands finally cup either side of his bandaged head, holding him still, for a reason James still hasn’t fathomed.
“It’s just at the back,” James says, feeling the faint brush of Jeremy’s thumbs even through the gauze. “The front’s fine.”
“Did they say anything about a concussion?”
“Just that it was mild, nothing to really worry about.”
Jeremy doesn’t look convinced and for some reason it makes James laugh.
“Well, Doctor Clarkson, what’s your opinion? Hopeless cause?”
Jeremy doesn’t answer and James is about to step back and end the joke he’s sure Jeremy’s playing on him, but fingers curl around the bandages and pull him upwards slightly, letting Jeremy brush his lips over James’ own. Now that’s unexpected, he thinks, too stunned to pull away, but he doesn’t need to because Jeremy does that for him, looking just as shocked.
For a moment the room is deathly silent, the hum of the fan still going is the only thing James can hear, but he can’t help but break it.
“Didn’t you once say that only - if I remember correctly - the clearly deranged liked me?”
Jeremy clears his throat, but his expression is one of relief - possibly over the fact that James hasn’t just punched him in the face and left.
“Well, if we’re being honest,” he says quietly, “I think I am.”
“Any reason for the sudden mental collapse?”
“The heat probably,” Jeremy replies and James blinks, humoured by how alike they truly are. “Also, I know we played it up for the viewers, but I was thinking about what would happen if you did lose your memory.”
“So you thought you’d do something while I did remember? I don’t think even memory loss would let me forget you, you oaf. I think I’m stuck with you.”
Jeremy pauses, looking strangely unsure of himself - it’s not something James sees often - but he doesn’t know how much clearer he can be. He’s okay with whatever weird feelings Jeremy’s managed to tangle himself up in, partially because he’s intrigued, but mostly because Jeremy’s beat him to the punch. It feels a lot like some teenage romance novel in how cliché it all seems, but if he’s honest, he’s been waiting rather a long time and it’s nice to know it hasn’t been for nothing.
“Did you want me to leave?” Jeremy asks and James finds himself holding back a laugh. He still hasn’t got it, he realises.
“No,” James replies and Jeremy’s brows furrow.
“Oh.
James thinks himself lucky that he didn’t have to clobber Jeremy over the head to get him to understand. If both of them had head injuries, it wouldn’t end well, he knows.
There’s a pause as Jeremy stares at him, apparently trying to figure out what he’s going to do next, because after a few beats he finally steps forward and dips down towards James, pressing their lips together again. Now he has the time to realise what’s happening, he notices that it’s different to what he’s used to, no one he’s kissed in the past has ever given him stubble-burn.
He rests his hands on Jeremy’s hips, which Jeremy seems to take as some sort of sign because he carefully cradles James’ head again and deepens the kiss with gentle flicks of his tongue. For a moment, James freezes up, the sheer strangeness of the situation finally overwhelming him, but as he watches Jeremy’s relaxed face, he finds himself closing his eyes and parting his lips. Things progress quickly as James feels Jeremy’s tongue against his own and Jeremy moves even closer, bringing their bodies flush together. The press of Jeremy’s stomach against his own is something unfamiliar but not unwelcome with its warmth and the reminder that it’s just Jeremy, the same one he has known for approximately forever now.
Jeremy slowly manoeuvres James backwards and it’s when his shoulders hit the wall and pain blossoms down his back that James pulls away, breathing only just a little bit harder than normal, eyes beginning to water from the low ache of his bruise.
“Oh god,” Jeremy says pulling back; James holds up a hand to quiet him.
“It’s fine, it’s nothing.”
“No, it just made things even worse.”
“To be fair, a bruise is a bruise. If you’ve added one more, I’m sure I won’t notice.”
It’s then that there’s a knock on the door and Richard’s voice floats through the thin wood.
“James? Dinner? Is Jeremy with you?”
They stare at each other for a moment then James answers without looking away.
“Be there in a minute. We’ll meet you downstairs.”
Richard taps to signal his leaving and James pockets his room key and wallet from the edge of the bed.
“Are we okay?” Jeremy asks fiddling with his own shirt and James can’t help the huffed laugh he lets out.
“The tongue in your mouth didn’t make it clear enough?”
“No, well - ” Jeremy cuts himself off and falls silent. “Right.”
James waves an arm towards the door, silently ushering Jeremy out.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeremy asks.
James pauses for a moment, letting Jeremy register the change, then lets a blank expression wash over his face.
“Who are you again?” he asks and Jeremy gives him all of two seconds before calling him a pillock.
“Well, apparently that’s what you go for,” James counters, holding the door open.
*
It seems as though they’re not allowed a moment of alone time, which isn’t exactly surprising when they’re travelling as quickly as they can through dangerous lands. He enjoys the night of teasing Hammond endlessly while eating brain and sheep head, but he’s truly too exhausted to do more than wave them both goodnight and fall half-dead into bed.
It’s as though nothing’s changed as they the three of them drive madly down windy mountain roads, driving speeds they don’t allow the cameras to see. The sight of the Sea of Galilee truly takes James’ breath away; it’s a view he’s never expected to see in his lifetime.
As the sun slowly sets, Richard calls it a night and hops into his car, following the crew to their next hotel. Jeremy gets directions, making an excuse James can’t hear, but expects is terrible anyway. The dust settles around them and James sits on the bonnet of his car, hearing the faint squeak of the suspension under his weight. With his feet on the front bumper, he’s happy enough with such a beautiful sight in front of him. That is until Jeremy blocks his view.
“I didn’t get you alone so we could look at nature,” he says, but James knows he’s joking. He hums nonchalantly and shrugs, but Jeremy steps between his knees and lowers his voice. “I’m serious.”
James can’t help but take notice of the gravely tone of Jeremy’s voice, deep and rumbling and, if he’s allowed to say it, a little bit sultry.
“What would you suggest instead? I have a couple of books in the boot, so we could read if you wanted to.”
Jeremy moves closer, placing his hands on the sun-warmed metal either side of James’ waist. James waits until the last minute to tilt his head back, allowing Jeremy to brush their lips together chastely. He draws back, content with just the simple contact, but apparently Jeremy isn’t satisfied as he slips a hand behind James’ head, fingers gentle against his still painful skull, and pulls him back in.
Jeremy seems to be happy to ignore the heat of the day that still hangs around them, despite the setting sun, as he presses into James’ body, spreading warmth through him, especially as the kiss intensifies. James’ own fingers curl into the material of Jeremy’s shirt at the shoulders, gripping and holding on as Jeremy kisses him deeply, spreading the taste of just-eaten sweeties across his own tongue. James’ knees fall further apart, allowing Jeremy even closer; Jeremy doesn’t spare a minute before he’s pressing in, gently rocking his hips into James’. It makes him feel like a teenager again as he opens his eyes and glances around, making sure they’re still alone, but never once breaking away from Jeremy’s mouth.
He pulls at Jeremy’s shirt, urging him to lean more of his weight onto him, and Jeremy complies without complaint. The shift in position presses their groins flush together and if James isn’t imagining things, he feels the hardness of Jeremy’s cock between them. Without thinking, he pushes a hand between them, palming over the front of Jeremy’s jeans, his knuckles dragging over his own half-formed erection. Jeremy breaks the kiss, letting out a low groan, as he rolls his hips into the pressure.
“Does this seem a bit blasphemous to you?” Jeremy breathes against his neck, voice strained with want, and James can’t help but laugh.
“Very,” he replies, but pulls Jeremy’s mouth back to his own with his free hand.
The bonnet creaks under their combined weight, but James doesn’t try to move away. One of Jeremy’s hands works itself under the hem of his shirt, pressing against his stomach, which he’s sure would be a lot sexier if he were once again in his teenage years, but as Jeremy’s own belly pushes against him, he realises it comes with the territory.
He lifts a leg and wraps it around the backs of Jeremy’s thighs, keeping them close together and Jeremy lets out another deep noise that rumbles through James’ chest. Jeremy breaks the kiss, letting his face fall into the crook of James’ neck and he lets out a long sigh.
“I think we should wait,” Jeremy says, voice muffled against James’ skin, but still audible.
James lets his leg fall back down and slips his hand out from between them, letting it drop to the bonnet again.
With a grunt, Jeremy rights himself, putting distance back between them.
“You think we shouldn’t rush?” James asks, carefully sitting up.
“No, I’m all for rushing, you know me, I just think we should wait until we’re back home. Less desert and fewer men with guns.”
James laughs and says, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but there’s sand everywhere and I’m sure we’ll end up like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.”
Jeremy winces and nods.
“Right, that’s sorted then. I expect an invitation as soon as we’re back on British soil.”
“I think I can manage that,” James says as Jeremy pulls him into one last kiss.
*
It takes a day to lose the minor jetlag, but a week to get over the physical effects of slight exhaustion and the sense of dread that always hung around while abroad. He has to admit he prefers being tucked up in the safety of his own home again. However, the thing weighing on his mind now is Jeremy’s proposal; not that he doesn’t want it, more that he doesn’t know how to go about everything.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t apprehensive about the whole thing. He’s not exactly an expert on anything remotely related to starting something with another man, and he winds up perusing the internet - with the safe search on - to find anything at all helpful. He doesn’t write it down, mostly because if Jeremy were to get a hold of it, he’d never hear the end, but he makes a mental checklist of three things: condoms, some sort of lubrication, and preparation. Seems simple enough and as Jeremy always says, How hard can it be?
*
He showers and probably scrubs himself down a little too hard, as his skin turns pink, the kind of shade that looks like a sunburn and stays that way until he’s dressed and back downstairs putting dinner in the oven. The doorbell rings exactly fifteen minutes after the time Jeremy said he’d show up, which never changes, a habit which James has learned to work around. Jeremy stands on the stoop, a bottle of chardonnay in his hand like a peace offering, and if James is honest, it feels like every other night Jeremy has been over. However, the kiss Jeremy quickly gives him is rather different, though not at all unwelcome.
“You know where the corkscrew is,” James says, letting the door close behind Jeremy and waving an arm in the general direction of the kitchen. He follows behind, wondering if the scent he can smell means Jeremy scrubbed up as much as he did and he laughs silently to himself; Jeremy must be anxious, though he’s sure he’d never admit it.
They drink a quarter of the bottle before James can even dish up the food, Jeremy pressing a glass into his hand and standing closer than usual while they slowly finish them. It gets to the point where James finally orders Jeremy to sit at the table, just to keep him out of the way, while he fills two plates and brings them back over.
“Eat,” he instructs, filling their glasses again and Jeremy wastes no time before complying.
*
After more wine, James finally feels himself begin to relax, though he knows he doesn’t have anything to worry about to begin with. It’s Jeremy he’s dealing with, not some stranger.
“That was good,” Jeremy compliments, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. James collects the empty dishes and sets them in the sink to soak, while he waves Jeremy back through into the lounge, where they make themselves comfortable on the settee.
Jeremy, blunt as ever, starts the conversation with, “So, do you know how this gay sex business works?”
James almost gives up hope, but he sees the laughter in Jeremy’s eyes and huffs a laugh.
“Yes,” he says, and gets the reaction he’d been looking for.
Jeremy’s eyes go wide as he says, “You’ve done it with a man before?”
“No, Jeremy,” James says as though it should be obvious, “I looked it up.”
Jeremy allows him a beat of silence before laughing.
“James, when you were sixteen and about to lose your virginity, did you by any chance check human anatomy books out of the library and place them open about your bedroom?” He holds up his hands and shakes his head. “No, wait, don’t answer that; of course you did.”
“There’s nothing wrong with practicality.”
Jeremy stares for a moment then shifts closer, sliding his hands over James’ hips and leaning down over him.
“Spontaneity is good too, don’t you think?”
“Practical spontaneity.”
Jeremy laughs, but tilts James’ chin up and kisses him anyway.
“You’re in charge of the former. I’ll deal with the latter.”
“Well, Mr Spontaneous, come upstairs in two minutes and we’ll see.”
James slips from Jeremy’s grasp without waiting for confirmation, but knows Jeremy will be there. He takes the stairs two at a time, rushing to the bedroom to make sure the lube and condoms are easily accessible on the bedside cabinet. He straightens the duvet, unsure of whether he should fold it down or leave it as it is. He toes off his shoes in the corner and has just enough time to close the window before Jeremy raps a knuckle against the doorframe.
He turns to find him wearing nothing but a grin and he feels his eyebrows shoot upwards before he can stop them.
“Spontaneous enough for you?” Jeremy asks, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t let his eyes wander down the length of Jeremy’s body. Unsurprisingly, it looks almost the same as his own middle-aged body, but that it belongs to Jeremy makes it more than that, something James knows is a privilege to see.
“You’re a bit overdressed now, James,” he jokes and James is proud of the fact that his fingers don’t even tremble as he lifts the hem of his sweater and pulls it over his head. He moves to take off his t-shirt, but Jeremy steps closer, slipping his hands under it and bunching it up under James’ arms, until he finally raises them and lets Jeremy tug it off. He drops it on the floor and finally leans down to kiss James again, running his tongue over his bottom lip before gently grazing his teeth over it. James doesn’t know where to put his hands, but settles for resting them on Jeremy’s hipbones, running his thumbs over the soft skin below.
Carefully, he pushes Jeremy back just hard enough for him to realise he’s trying to steer him towards the bed and he follows James’ direction without their mouths breaking contact. He sits on the edge of the mattress, James leaning over him and kissing downwards, sliding his tongue slowly against Jeremy’s. Jeremy breathes a quiet moan into his mouth before James eventually pulls away as he drops to his knees between Jeremy’s legs.
Looking down at Jeremy’s half-hard cock is a lot more daunting than he’d previously believed it would be. Glancing back up, Jeremy looks as though he’s about to say something, but before anything escapes his mouth, James wraps a hand around Jeremy’s erection, gently stroking. It’s truly not unlike touching himself and as he begins to tighten his grip and pump faster, Jeremy leans back onto his palms, letting his knees falls open. He rubs his thumb over the head, feeling the softness of Jeremy’s skin under his hands.
Before he can think too much about it, he dips his head down, running his tongue over the tip of Jeremy’s cock, tasting nothing but the tang of skin and something heady underneath.
Jeremy lets out a surprised Oh at the contact, apparently not at all expecting James to make the first move, but he doesn’t seem to have any trouble in sliding his hand to the back of James’ head, carding his fingers through his hair and gripping just tight enough for James to feel the tug.
His touches are tentative at best; his lips brushing down the side of Jeremy’s cock, tongue flicking out at random intervals, but Jeremy seems okay with it all. He hums his appreciation in the back of his throat and pulls James’ hair just a little harder. It tugs his scalp briefly, irritating the gradually healing cut on his head, but he can live with it for the moment; as long as it doesn’t start to bleed again they’ll be fine.
He finally wraps his lips around the head of Jeremy’s cock, keeping his teeth out of the way as he bobs his head down, keeping the movements shallow to avoid testing his gag reflex. Jeremy’s hips move, just barely, as he works his lips and tongue around him, realising too belatedly that he can’t help the saliva that runs out the corner of his mouth, slicking up the length of Jeremy’s cock that doesn’t quite fit between his lips. He grips it with a free hand, using the wetness to lessen the friction of his strokes as he continues to suck on the rest.
“Oh god, James,” Jeremy breathes out, only just louder than the wet noises coming from James’ mouth. The fingers in James’ hair tightens and he can’t help but let Jeremy slip from between his lips as his head tips backwards from the strength of the grip. He grunts softly as Jeremy’s cock bumps against his cheek, rubbing drops of precome into his skin, but he can’t move. He keeps his gaze upon Jeremy’s own and doesn’t protest as Jeremy leans down, attaching his lips to the side of James’ neck and sucking. An insistent tongue presses against his skin, flicking teasingly under the warmth of Jeremy’s mouth.
With a quick nip of teeth, Jeremy lets him go completely, then hooks his hands under James’ elbows, helping him stand back up again. Heavy fingers wrestle with his belt, before Jeremy’s finally able to undo James’ jeans, tugging them down his legs along with his underwear. James knows he’s hard and a light flush of embarrassment washes over his face at the realisation that it’s because of having Jeremy in his mouth. Jeremy seems to have no objections as he pulls James down to the bed with him, letting him sprawl out beside him on top of cool sheets.
“I have condoms,” James says, reaching across to the nightstand to grab one and the bottle of lube. “Just keeping up the practicality part of our bargain.”
“Okay,” Jeremy starts, “so how do we do this? How do we decide who gets to be the woman?”
“That’s not the way it goes,” James sighs. “There’s nothing wrong with being penetrated.”
“I think you just killed my erection.”
“Well, that means you’ll just have to lie there then, doesn’t it?”
Jeremy takes the bottle of lube and pops it open, spreading it across his fingers.
“Too late,” he says as he pushes apart James’ legs with his clean hand and moves to run a fingertip across James’ entrance. James flinches at the contact, but doesn’t protest as it begins to slip inside.
“Just take it slow,” he says on an exhale, trying to keep his voice even. It’s certainly a new feeling, but not necessarily unwanted, not when he knows what it will eventually lead to. He palms his own cock slowly, helping himself to relax as the finger inside him moves. Jeremy gently crooks it, rubbing carefully within him and that’s when he feels the prickling of pleasure low in his gut. He lets out a soft breath and Jeremy apparently takes it to be one of pain as he pulls his hand away, leaving James empty and in need of more.
“No,” he explains, gripping Jeremy’s wrist and tugging it back between his legs. “Keep going.”
“How does it feel?”
“Good. Don’t know what it is though; didn’t get that far in my research.”
Jeremy pushes two fingers into him this time, giving James more time to adjust, but soon he’s back to rubbing against the spot that slowly deprives James of the ability to think.
“Is it okay?” Jeremy asks, and James nods his head in response.
“Very.”
The third finger is a bit more of a struggle, but with more lube and slow kisses, James’ body accepts it, until it gets the point where he realises he’s on the brink of coming. He stills Jeremy’s hand with his own, breathing hard as he tries to say something but can’t. Jeremy seems to understand as he drags his fingers out and begins to prepare himself, rolling on a condom and spreading lubricant over his cock, giving James a few moments to collect himself.
“I didn’t think it would be this simple,” Jeremy admits, to which James lets out a huffed laugh.
“Easy for you say.”
“Right,” says Jeremy, as though they’re about to start another Top Gear challenge. “What position do we go for? I’m not one to make assumptions, but I hardly think your legs are going to get over my shoulders.”
“Why would they need to?”
“Isn’t that the way they do it on the internet?”
“Jeremy, you’ve seen the sort of stuff that shows up on the internet; I think we should just make it as comfortable as possible.”
Jeremy leans over him, going in for a kiss to which James responds unabashedly. It takes a moment for him to realise, but as Jeremy continues to kiss him for longer, it dawns on him; he pulls away gently.
“Are you stalling?”
Jeremy looks as though he’s going to protest for all of ten seconds before he relents.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits and James can’t help but press their lips together one more time.
“We’ll take it slow and it’ll be fine.”
Nodding in understanding, Jeremy kneels between James’ legs, pushing them open once again as he takes a hold of his own cock and lines it up with James’ entrance. Exhaling slowly, James nods his head slightly and Jeremy begins to push into him. It hurts, there’s no getting around it, but it’s more of a burn than anything else.
“Okay?”
“I’m not going to break, Jeremy,” James complains, voice hitching just as Jeremy manages to get the head of his cock inside. James grabs Jeremy’s side, stilling him for a moment while he catches his breath. “More lube,” he suggests and Jeremy wastes no time in reaching for the discarded bottle, applying more to that which has yet to fit inside James.
It’s a long moment before James finally lets Jeremy move again, sinking slowly into him, bit by bit. Jeremy double, triple, and quadruple checks to make sure James is okay, but James keeps nodding because with the extra lube everything is a lot smoother. He wraps his legs around Jeremy’s waist and tightens them to draw Jeremy in the rest of the way. Jeremy lets out a moan and this time it’s James waiting for Jeremy to regain his composure.
“Move,” James insists, and it’s only a few beats before Jeremy begins to pull back. It feels strange, a sensation he’s not at all accustomed to, but as Jeremy pushes back in, he brushes up against the spot inside him that makes his toes curl and he can’t help but cant his hips up. Placing a hand on James’ shoulder, Jeremy begins to thrust in earnest, keeping the movements quick and shallow, which James is perfectly okay with as it increases the amount of times Jeremy makes him cry out in pleasure.
“Christ, James,” Jeremy says, his lips close to James’ ear, teeth barely grazing his skin as he sucks the lobe into his mouth.
James certainly wasn’t expecting things to feel this good. He had thought it would end with a lot of lube everywhere, a lot of stress, and possibly at least one broken bone, knowing Jeremy.
“Still okay?”
If he wasn’t so busy fighting off an impending orgasm, James would have a rather long response, something including a lot of swear words and perhaps one or two pleas for more interspersed.
Instead, he settles for a resounding, “Yes!”
Jeremy laughs lightly at his response, but it’s Jeremy’s hand that undoes him. Fingers brush his cock, which is trapped between their stomachs, tracing along the sides with barely-there touches before wrapping tightly around him and stroking him off with quick movements. His legs tighten around Jeremy’s waist and his hands dig into the mattress below as he comes across Jeremy’s knuckles. It’s one of the hardest orgasms he’s had to date and he can’t even find the strength to move, leaving Jeremy to continue thrusting into him, breathing hard and repeating James’ name quietly. His hips falter and James almost believes he can feel the way Jeremy’s cock twitches as Jeremy finally follows suit, collapsing onto his chest and knocking all the wind out of him.
By the time James catches his breath, Jeremy has already pulled out and disposed of the condom in the bin. He sits on the edge of the bed apologising profusely, while trying to clean them both up with tissues.
“Jeremy. Jeremy,” James says, rubbing his own chest with a shaking hand. “It’s fine, accidents happen. We’re not as young and durable as we once were.”
Jeremy kisses him gently, but gives in, sliding back the sheets and pulling them over both of their cooling bodies. There’s a long silence before Jeremy breaks it.
“That was bloody fantastic, though, you have to admit.”
James laughs quietly, but hums in agreement. Shifting slightly to give them both more room he realises that his body has already begun to ache.
“You know what I said about not being young and durable anymore? You might have to carry me around tomorrow.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jeremy says. “Perhaps a compromise is in order? How about we just stay in bed all day?”
James laughs again.
“Goodnight, Jeremy,”
*
James is brushing his teeth as Jeremy stumbles naked into the bathroom, flicking on the shower and letting the water warm up. James watches him in the mirror and raises an eyebrow when Jeremy finally looks up.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks as James spits a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink before rinsing his mouth quickly.
“I tried, but I don’t think you could hear me talking to you over the noise of your snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” Jeremy complains, despite his claim being a blatant lie. “I sleep like a baby.”
“Yes, I suspect you do, but no one else within a mile radius does.”
“You’ll grow bored of complaining one of these days.”
“As long as you keep snoring, I’ll keep moaning.”
A smirk makes its way onto Jeremy’s face before James realises what he’s just said.
“Is that so?”
Jeremy advances towards him, but James casually pushes him away.
“You’re insatiable. Five weekends in a row you’ve spent the night and you’re still not bored of me?”
“Certainly not. Now, if you’re done talking, I have something else in mind for us to do.”
He catches a hold of James’ wrist and tugs him towards the shower, stepping in and waiting expectantly for James to take off his shirt and boxers.
“Things won’t always be this easy; you do understand that, don’t you, Jeremy?”
“Yes, well, we’ll think about that when the time comes. Until then, I say we enjoy it.”
He leans down to kiss James softly, then wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him under the spray of water, clothes and all. James splutters in annoyance, trying to escape, but it takes all of ten seconds for Jeremy to convince him otherwise.