12, pt 2
The ride home had been torture. Jerk or not, Benji knew how to get Jackson wound up, and thinking of Dan and what might come of their reunion didn’t help. Jackson had briefly debated ignoring his hard-on. By the time Dan arrived, Jackson would be so horny he’d be ready for Dan to fuck him on the kitchen table. But Jackson was to the point of seeing red; his balls were heavy and sore and coming was all he could think of. It would be better for Jackson to jack off now and be clear-headed when Dan arrived. Even if he couldn’t come a second time with Dan inside him, that would only be the first of many opportunities.
Jackson let Molly out, stripped off his clothes and out of his braces and left them and his glasses in his room. The house had two bathrooms: the one attached to the master’s, and Jackson’s, which originally had been a powder that they’d expanded when they’d converted the dining room into his bedroom.
Jackson entered, his hand slipping over the doorframe and onto the cold tile, his fingers searching out the rounded edges that slipped into the gritty grout that scratched under his fingernails. Jackson loved running his fingers over this tile. He always had, all the way back to when he was a boy and he’d shared this bathroom with Lyn. He’d retreat here in the summers sometimes, because it was cool, and he’d spend hours walking or crawling around, feeling everything, noting the different textures of the tile and the sink and the tub, trying to identify every surface and memorizing the placement of even the most inane of objects. Lyn had been mortified when a six-year-old Jackson had innocently discovered her box of tampons and had opened a dozen and pushed the tampon through the applicator on half of those, trying to figure out what they were.
The layout of this room was so internalized that Jackson didn’t need to drag his fingers along the wall to find his way, but he still did when he wasn’t in a hurry because he loved the way his hand vibrated as his fingertips bumped over grout and onto tile and back again, the tiny tapping noise of his nails, the nostalgia of it. The room was roughly square, with a toilet on the left, a towel rack above it, and the vanity on the right, with the medicine cabinet above it. Directly in front was the tub/shower, with a tiny window near the ceiling to let in some light. In the back of the tub Jackson had a shower seat he used if his legs were particularly stubborn or he was shaving or something. His balance degraded the longer he stood, especially without his braces, and with water and all that sometimes it was better not to take a risk. The faucet was on the left, and sometimes if he’d decided to take a bath he’d sit on the toilet while he let the tub fill. There were three grab bars installed within the shower itself, one diagonal near the showerhead, about where Jackson would stand, another toward the back and a third lower down for bathing. Jackson could get in and out without them, but they made the task easier and decreased the chance he’d fall in the process. Falling sucked, but it also increased the likelihood his retinas would detach, one reason his sister had freaked out so badly the other day.
Jackson started the water, felt it, and when it seemed warm enough, he leaned in, grabbed the bar, and used it to hold onto as he got his stubborn feet over the lip of the tub. Jackson pulled the curtain shut and stood under the spray, letting the hot water sluice over him. Jackson closed his eyes, pressed one hand against the wall to help support himself, and imagined Dan was behind him in the shower, one strong arm wrapped around Jackson, stroking Jackson’s cock back to full length.
Jackson would be able to lean back against Dan’s firm chest while Dan’s hands worked their magic. Jackson found the soap and began to wash, imagining it was Dan tending to him, suds spreading over slick skin. Up over Jackson’s stomach and pecs and shoulders, down along his spine to the curve of his ass. Fingers would tease along Jackson’s hole, but Dan wouldn’t force them.
The longing to be filled was so strong Jackson felt along the containers of soap and shampoos and other bathing supplies he kept in an organizer that hung over the showerhead, looking for a small rounded bottle labeled, Lube, in Braille. Waterproof. Benji’s idea, of course. Jackson squeezed a liberal amount on his right hand, replaced the bottle, and turned around so his back was to the spray. He lifted his right leg with a little help from his left hand until his foot rested on the shower chair’s seat, then supported himself by gripping the grab bar. A position like this wasn’t something Jackson could maintain for too long, but this way he’d make sure he was clean inside and out, and his fantasy could include imagining Dan inside him.
Jackson took a breath, circled his hole with his lubed fingers, then found the center and pressed. Jackson focused on his breathing, on his fantasy of Dan whispering in his ear with every movement, promises. Dan would support Jackson so he’d be secure, and he’d go as slow as Jackson needed. “Gonna be so tight and hot. Gonna blow my load inside you. Gonna make you scream and come without even touching your dick.”
The tip of Jackson’s middle finger slid in and he gasped, then groaned. He kept the pressure up, kept bearing down to loosen the muscles, kept imagining Dan’s fingers inside him instead of his own.
Jackson let out a cry and shivered when his middle finger sank in fully, the tip just brushing his prostate and sending a tingle straight to his balls. Jackson adjusted his footing, leaning his left side along the tile of the shower wall so he could let go of the grab bar and hopefully not go crashing to the floor. He imagined Dan holding him, securing him, Dan’s cock inside him while Jackson stroked his own, the dual sensations within and without pushing him higher and higher.
“So tight. So hot. So fucking hot,” Dan’s voice echoed in Jackson’s head.
Jackson worked his finger inside him while his hand slid rapidly over his cock, some of the waterproof lube increasing his pleasure as his thumb rubbed over the head with each pass.
Jackson remembered the pressure of a man’s body on top of his own, the fullness, the electricity with every thrust. Jackson’s muscles tightened around his finger. He was close. One hard tug on his dick, a squeeze, then Jackson formed his right fingers into an “O” and pulled those as fast as he could over the crest of the head, over and over and over, the lube making a wet slicking noise. Jackson’s balls drew up, his abs contracted, and with a loud groan he came. Muscles spasmed as he shot several times, his hole tightening around his finger almost painfully, but Jackson felt nothing but pure pleasure, almost dizzy with it as his dick shot one final time before starting to soften. Jackson withdrew his finger. His right leg below the knee was tight and he was worried he’d fall when he moved, but he was so high from his orgasm the thought barely registered. He used both hands on the bar to lower himself into the seat, albeit sideways, and sat for a few moments, catching his breath. That was one of the best orgasms he’d ever had alone; he couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like with Dan inside him for real instead of only in his head.
Jackson fell asleep like that, in his shower chair, water still falling over his legs, his head leaned against the tile. The sound of the front door opening startled Jackson awake. His heart thundered in fear. Jackson leaned forward until his hand found the valve and shut off the water. Without that noise, Jackson could hear better. Silence. Maybe he’d dreamed it?
Jackson used the grab bar to help pull himself to his feet. His legs were stiff but he managed to stand up. He pushed the curtain away and felt around toward the wall for a towel. He carefully stepped out of the tub onto the rug, listening all the while. He thought he could hear footsteps, but he wasn’t sure. It had to be Dan, right? Jackson wanted to call out to him, but what if it was the same person who’d broken in the other day?
Jackson wrapped the towel around his waist, wondering how long before he stopped freaking out every time he heard the front door open.
“Jackson? It’s Dan. I’m home. I got the food.”
Jackson let out a breath of relief. Thank God Dan had listened when Jackson had asked him to always announce his presence. “I’ll be right there!” Jackson wondered how fast he could get dressed, fixing the towel at his waist. He smoothed a hand over his stomach and grinned. Men loved his body. He was no gym bunny, but he was fit with good genes. Small, but not scrawny. Assuming Jackson’s hazy memory of the other night was intact, Dan had already seen Jackson naked. But that was gross, sweaty and dirty Jackson, not fresh-from-the-shower, skin slick with condensation Jackson.
If Dan could resist Jackson nearly naked, it meant that he was either straight after all or he was a monk.
Jackson could hear Dan in the kitchen, the clunk of cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of plates and silverware. Jackson stood in the doorway, trying his best to look sexy and hoping his traitorous body wouldn’t fuck things up, waiting for Dan to notice him.
“I got enough food to feed a crowd. I hope you’re hung---” Dan’s voice cut off. Jackson could just make him out from the surroundings, and he tried to face that way, grateful he’d grabbed his spare pair of glasses from the bathroom vanity before coming out to meet Dan. He wanted Dan focused on his body or the towel and what lay beneath, not on his eyes.
Jackson grinned, leaned a little more against the doorframe and slid his finger over the knot holding the towel in place over and over. He prayed he looked alluring and hot and not like a doofus. Maybe he should have brushed his hair. “I’m famished,” Jackson said, licking his lips.
Dan swallowed audibly. Jackson could hear the other man’s breathing rachet up. It was working. “Jackson,” Dan managed to say.
Jackson absently rubbed his dick through the towel, almost as if he had an itch, and responded innocently, “Yes?”
Dan’s breathing grew louder. He took a few steps toward Jackson. “Don’t you . . . want to . . . change?” Dan asked between heaving breaths.
Jackson tilted his head, listening. “Oh, I’m fine. Wouldn’t want the food to get cold. Unless . . . you have something else you want to do before we eat?” Jackson remembered Benji, and stuck a finger in his mouth, sucking on it, licking it as if it were Dan’s cock.
Dan let out a low groan. “Stop. We can’t.” Dan’s voice sounded reluctant, almost pained. “We need to talk.”
But it made Jackson freeze. Men fucked. They didn’t talk. Or at the very least, they fucked first, then talked, then fucked again. Jackson had that much experience. If Dan wanted to chat instead of bend Jackson over backwards, something was wrong. Jackson had to have misinterpreted what he’d heard as attraction. Dan didn’t want Jackson. How could he? He’d seen Jackson at his weakest, had seen his eyes, his scars, had caught him more than once when his stubborn legs gave out on him. Maybe Benji was right, and no one would ever see Jackson as anything more than someone to stick their cock in. And most of the time, not even that. Part of Jackson’s heart fractured, embarrassment slipping through the cracks, coated with a faint hint of rage.
In his head Jackson said, “No. No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to kiss me, disappear for a weekend, and then when I’m all but naked begging for you to fuck me all you want to do is talk?” But his tongue and throat decided they wouldn’t cooperate, or maybe he was just chickenshit. So instead, he said, without inflection, trying to keep his emotions out of voice, “You’re straight.”
Dan took a deep breath. Started moving around in what sounded like pacing. “It’s complicated.”
“Either you like cock or you don’t,” Jackson said, feeling more of himself chipping and floating away, his fist tight holding the towel in place.
Dan didn’t respond, although he did stop moving.
Jackson’s stomach contracted in on itself, and he felt his heart hollow out. “Oh. So it’s me.” Jackson clenched his teeth. “Because I can’t see? My CP creeps you out? Or am I not ‘twink’ enough for you?” And Jackson had thought almost being raped by Benji was the low point of his day. Why did being rejected by Dan hurt so much? Lots of men wanted to fuck Jackson. Greg. Benji. Probably half the guys at G & S. But Jackson had exposed himself to Dan and in more than the literal sense, and that that was why Dan couldn’t fuck Jackson hurt much, much more than he could ever have imagined.
“No. No, no, Jackson. No,” Dan said urgently. He took a step and suddenly his hand was on Jackson’s cheek.
Jackson tried to pull away but Dan wrapped his other arm around him and kept him in place.
“Take off your glasses.”
“No.” Jackson tried to extract himself from Dan, but it was impossible, and he was tired from standing so long without his braces.
“I can’t see you any better without them.”
“But I want to see you better.”
Jackson’s heart was thundering. He already felt humiliated, and now it seemed like Dan was only adding fuel to the fire. Jackson had never let Benji see his eyes, ever. Even when they’d showered together Jackson had kept his eyes shut. He could still hear the taunts and cruel nicknames from his first years at St. Ignatius, his harsh welcome to the world outside the safety of the school for the blind. Jackson was a freak, and everyone had reminded him of it, daily.
“Please,” Dan pleaded, his voice so soft it went straight through the cracks in Jackson’s heart and made him want to do anything for Dan.
Jackson took a breath. Closed his eyes and reached up to pull his glasses off, resting them on the top of his head. He could tell the room wasn’t too bright through his closed lids, and after another breath, he risked opening them, and he tried his best to look toward the blur of Dan’s face and the sound of his breathing.
Dan’s thumb traced the edge of Jackson’s cheekbone, down along his jawline to his chin, holding it in place almost as if he was going to kiss Jackson again. But he didn’t. “Your eyes are so blue,” Dan said, almost in awe.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Jackson said a bit more bitterly than he would have liked. It felt so good being held by Dan, even if he still didn’t understand what was going through the other man’s head. Maybe he was bi and used to fucking women, who had to be courted and talked to and all that other crap before you got to the sex. That’s what Jackson had come to understand of het sex from the movies and books he’d read, not to mention his sister, who could be an over-sharer.
“You can’t see me?”
“I know you’re there,” Jackson said, starting to get annoyed. If Dan wasn’t going to fuck him then he might as well go back to his room, stretch and change. Scream into a pillow at his continued stupidity around men.
“Your eyes move. From side to side. Faster today than the other night. Because you were drunk?”
Because he was pissed. Jackson’s eyes moved outside his control. They had his whole life, but the movements grew worse when he got emotional, even if he was unaware of it most of the time. One reason he kept his eyes covered. Jackson reached up for his glasses and replaced them on his nose. “Freak show is over. Enjoy the food. I’ll be in my room.” Jackson pushed Dan’s hand away and tried to leave.
“Wait. Tonight isn’t going at all the way I hoped.”
“You and me both.” Jackson crossed his arms on his chest. Outwardly, he would seem furious at Dan, but really he was mad at himself for once again falling for a man who would never reciprocate. At least Benji had fucked him, and not just fucked him over. Jackson shivered. The towel was damp around him and the AC had kicked on, making him cold.
“Here,” Dan said a moment later, pushing something soft into Jackson’s hand. Jackson felt it a little more, dropping his arms out of the tuck so he could explore it more thoroughly.
“I don’t need your shirt,” Jackson said once he realized that had to be what it was, resisting the urge to bring it to his nose to inhale Dan’s scent.
“And I’m a big boy and I can go to my room and get my own clothes. I’m not your damsel in distress, bi boy.”
“What did you call me?”
“You said you weren’t straight and that it’s complicated. I’m not so sheltered I don’t know what that means. You’re either in the closet, or you're bi and see way more women than men.”
Dan let out a harsh breath and took his shirt back, although from the sound of it and the way the blur of color stayed balled up, he didn’t put it on. “I shouldn’t have kissed you the other night. We were both drunk. It was a mistake.”
Jackson reached out until his palm met Dan’s rough chest hair. He moved up to Dan’s neck and pulled him close. Dan didn’t resist. Jackson slid his hand toward Dan’s jawline to give himself a reference point and leaned in, fumbling until he moved his thumb closer to Dan’s mouth and crushed his lips to his. Jackson held Dan’s face as he tried to deepen the kiss. He’d expected Dan to give in, but instead, the larger man tilted his head enough Jackson couldn’t follow until they finally broke apart and Jackson had to grab the doorframe so as not to lose his balance.
“I’m engaged,” Dan said. “To a woman.”