Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11393961.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Newsies!:_the_Musical_-_Fierstein/Menken
  Relationship:
      David_Jacobs/Jack_Kelly
  Character:
      Jack_Kelly, David_Jacobs
  Additional Tags:
      Idiots_in_Love, Falling_In_Love, Light_Angst, Jack_is_ridiculous, Davey
      is_Confused, Fluff_and_Smut, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting,
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, I_guess_the_other_newsies_are_around,
      but_not_shown, Oblivious_Davey, Excruciatingly_Safe_Sex
  Series:
      Part 1 of Tease
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-04 Completed: 2017-07-17 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 4756
****** The One With Davey's Eyes ******
by LiveSincerely
Summary
     Davey’s eyes are utterly, impossibly blue. It drives Jack all kinds
     of crazy.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Davey’s eyes are utterly, impossibly blue. It drives Jack all kinds of crazy.
They’re easily Davey’s most striking feature: big and expressive and capable of
crumbling Jack’s willpower into dust with a single pleading look. It’s unfair,
really, that Davey has such ridiculously pretty eyes. He’s already so good with
words that he could talk a lemon into tasting sweet, he really doesn’t need
another weapon at his disposal.
He’s not sure what it is about Davey’s eyes in particular—Jack’s dated plenty
of people with blue eyes before and they never drove him half-mad with want—but
Jack’s spent hours staring at them, thinking about them, painting them. And,
hell, he knows he’s a sap, knows that Davey would probably find his constant
staring really creepy if he ever stopped being so oblivious, but Jack just
can’t help himself. He’s pathetically gone over on the guy.
“Jack, are you listening to me?” Davey asks, distracting Jack from his
contemplations.
Jack blinks, then shakes his head, trying to focus back in on the math homework
he’s supposed to be working on. “Sorry, Dave, I drifted. What did ya say?”
Davey sighs, pushing his own schoolwork away and sitting up slightly. He’s
sitting on the floor of Jack’s room while Jack himself lays stomach-down on his
bed, Davey preferring to work on a hard surface instead of Jack’s sinking
mattress. “I asked you whether or not you wanted to take a break and get
something to eat.”
“Sure, I could eat,” Jack says. “What were ya thinkin of havin?”
“We could walk over to the sub shop on the corner, or we could order a pizza
and split the cost.”
Jack thinks about it, then shrugs. “Let’s get pizza, if ya don’t mind.”
Davey nods, then leans over to grab his cell phone. The new position causes the
sunlight streaming through the windows to catch his eyes just right and-
Fuck. Fuck. God he’s beautiful.
Jack tries to swallow. His collar feels uncomfortably tight against his throat.
He barely registers that Davey’s trying to ask him something, probably about
the pizza. He nods without hearing the question, then stares back down at his
textbook before he can do something he’ll regret, like lean over and kiss Davey
right on his pretty mouth.
He’s so busy trying not to look at Davey that he doesn’t notice when he ends
the call. “Jack, are you okay?” Davey asks, his brow furrowed with concern.
“You seem distracted.”
Jack tries for a casual shrug. “Naw, Dave, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
Davey scoffs, then moves closer. Jack has to work to keep his breaths even.
“Are you sure?” Davey asks, clearly skeptical. “You’re acting weird.”
Jack shrugs again. Davey moves even closer, leaning up and in, a hand
outstretched to touch, biting his lip slightly as he thinks, his eyes gleaming
with intensity behind his dark fringe and bright, piercing blue-
Jack pulls away before Davey can touch him, jerking back so suddenly that Davey
is left grasping at empty air. There’s a sudden, awkward silence as they both
stare at each other.
“I told you, I’m fine Davey,” Jack says finally, with a strained laugh. “Don’t
worry about it.”
He forces himself not to look at Davey again for the rest of the evening.
00000
Davey’s down on the floor, kneeling shirtless between Jack’s splayed legs. His
hands roam across Jack’s body: up his torso, nails scratching lightly at his
stomach, teasing down his inner thighs, then traveling back up his outer thighs
to his hips. He presses his face into Jack’s crotch, nuzzles at the hard bulge
in Jack’s pants, then leans up and unbuttons Jack’s fly with his teeth.
Jack lets out a low swear. “Christ, Davey,” he mutters disbelievingly as Davey
works his cock out of his pants. “Are you sure you wanna- “
“Jack,” Davey says, rolling his eyes. “Shut up.” Then he bends forward and
takes Jack’s length into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Jack hisses, arching automatically into the tight, wet heat of Davey’s
throat. Davey’s head bobs up and down, humming as he takes Jack deeper and
deeper. He presses closer, taking Jack almost all the way down, then pulls back
agonizingly slowly, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks.
Desperate for something to hold onto, Jack’s hands make their way to Davey’s
hair, tugging at the dark strands as his hip buck forward, chasing Davey’s
mouth. Davey swallows hard around him, his eyelashes fluttering as he moans,
then pulls off with a wet pop.
He licks a long stripe up the underside of Jack’s cock, then swirls his tongue
languidly around the tip, catching the wetness that’s gathered there. Davey
presses forward again, sucking hard as he deepthroats him and Jack muffles his
groan of pleasure with his fist, his hand tightening in Davey’s hair.
“Davey,” Jack mutters desperately, thrusting shallowly into Davey’s mouth.
“Davey, Davey, Davey.”
Davey looks up at him through his eyelashes, his lips red and stretched
obscenely around the base of Jack’s dick. His eyes are somehow light and dark
at the same time, full of desire and confidence and love and so, so blue-
Jack wakes with a start, still half hard and his stomach sticky with come. He
runs a hand across his face, then slumps back across his bed with a soft thump.
This obsession with Davey’s eyes is starting to become a problem.
00000
Jack only gets through the rest of the week without incident by avoiding Davey
as much as possible. And, yeah, Jack knows he’s being ridiculous, but since he
can’t seem to get through a conversation with Davey without blushing madly or
worse, popping a boner, he’s honestly not sure what else to do.
Hence his current situation.
Jack’s hiding in the library, having claimed a table in one dimly lit back
corner for himself, and doodling idly in his sketchpad instead of going to
lunch. He figures this is the last place Davey would ever look for him—he only
ever comes here when Davey talks him into studying with him, or sometimes when
he has to drag Davey away from his books for some fresh air.
He pauses briefly to stretch, then picks up his pen and adds a few more details
to his sketch. Then he realizes what he’s doing—who he’s drawing—and has to
bite back the violent string of curse words that threaten to tear out of his
throat.
It’s not even an entire face:  just a pair of eyes and a matching set of brows,
with the barest suggestion of a nose in between them. Hell, it’s not even in
color, but they’re so obviously Davey’s eyes that Jack could almost tear his
hair out in frustration.
Of course, this is the moment when Davey finds him.
“Hey, Jack,” he says, hovering next to Jack’s table.
Jack tenses, then forces his shoulders to relax, quickly turning to a new page
in his sketchbook.
“What’s up, Dave?” he asks, keeping his eyes trained on his paper. In his
peripheral, Jack notices Davey’s frown. He waits for Davey to confront him, his
mind already racing for something to say in his defense.
“Can you come over this afternoon?” Davey asks. “Les has been practicing his
spiral all week and’s been dying to show you.”
That’s… not what he expected him to say. Jack blinks, trying to think of an
excuse. Before he can come up with anything, Davey reaches over and places a
hand on Jack’s shoulder. The moves startles Jack badly enough that he glances
up reflexively and-
Oh.
Jack’s breath hitches. He’s not sure when it happened, but Davey’s moved
closer, shifting to sit on the edge of the table nearest to Jack. Their faces
are only a few inches apart. Shit.
“Look, I know you’re busy,” Davey continues quietly, when he’s sure he’s got
Jack attention, “but I don’t know anything about football or throwing
techniques. If you could swing by, just for a little bit and give him a few
tips, we would both really appreciate it.”
Jack’s having a hard time thinking straight. ‘No,’ a tiny, stubborn part of his
mind whispers, ‘just say no.’ The larger, louder part is having a hard time
focusing on anything other than the thick, dark eyelashes that frame Davey’s
eyes. He stares at them for a long moment, wondering if they’d flutter closed
if Jack cupped Davey's face and eased him down into his lap, bridging the gap
between them until their lips brushed...
Yeah, sure Dave.” Jack says abruptly, looking away as a blush creeps up the
back of his neck. “I’ll come over right after school.”
Then he gathers his things and flees, because he’s absolutely pathetic.
00000
As soon as he gets there, Jack knows coming over was a horrible idea. Davey’s
already there when he arrives because Jack was too chicken to walk with him. He
lets Jack inside without a word, then sits at the kitchen table. He’s already
started working on his homework, probably because Jack was supposed to show up
almost thirty minutes ago.
Jack mutters an apology for being late, but declines the offered chair, too
wired up to sit down. He can feel the weight of Davey’s gaze on his back as he
shuffles around the Jacobs’ kitchen, opening cabinets and searching through the
fridge to avoid making eye contact. He pours himself a glass of water and sips
it quietly, leaning against one of the counter tops.
“So, uh, where’s Les,” Jack says eventually, after the silence stretches for
several minutes.
“He’s sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight,” Davey says.
Jack frowns. “But I thought ya said- “
“I lied,” Davey says simply.
Jack freezes. Fucking fuck.
“What’s this about, Davey?” he asks slowly, setting down his glass.
“Why don’t you tell me, Jack,” Davey says, and while he sounds pretty calm,
there’s something about the tone of his voice that sets Jack on edge. “You’re
the one that’s been acting strangely.”
“What’re ya talkin’ about, Dave?” Jack says, feeling nervous. “I’m fine.”
More silence follows his statement. Jack risks a look at Davey. He’s still
staring at him, but his gaze has softened slightly: less piercing and more
lost.
“Why are you lying to me?” he asks wearily. Jack can’t help but wince. For the
first time he notices how tired Davey seems, takes in the distressed slump of
his shoulders, the worried crease between his brows.
“I’m not lying,” Jack lies, hoping Davey will believe him. “Really, I’m fine.”
Davey laughs. It’s not a happy sound. “I think we both know you’re not fine.”
“I really don’t know where you’re going with this,” Jack insists.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Davey says, and he sounds genuinely upset. “You’ve
been hiding in the library to avoid me at lunch and making up reasons not to
hang out after school.”
“So, what, ya think there’s somethin’ wrong with me, so ya trick me into some
kinda intervention talk?” Jack says, trying for skeptical but failing
miserably.
“No,” Davey starts heatedly, finally standing. “I know there’s something wrong
with you, and since you run away every time I try to ask you about it, I
figured this was the only way to get you to talk about it. Especially since
whatever’s bothering you clearly has something to do with me.”
“I told ya I was busy,” Jack says, trying to convince him. “I told ya I was
tired.”
“Except, you only seem to be too busy for me,” Davey accuses.
This conversation is going downhill fast. Jack feels trapped and nervous and
panicked, and the wounded expression on Davey’s face is only making it worse.
Jack tries to escape, saying dismissively, “whatever, Dave. I can’t keep
talking in circles with you about this. It's not my fault if you don’t believe
me.”
“Why won’t you just talk to me!” Davey shouts, his hands balling into fists at
his sides, the beginnings of frustrated tears starting to well up in his eyes,
and fuck, doesn’t that make Jack feel like the worst kind of scum. “God, Jack,
if something’s wrong, tell me! All week you’ve been acting weird! It’s like you
can barely stand to be around me—you won’t even look at me!”
Jack tries to walk away, tries not to respond. Davey yells, “don’t you dare!”
and catches his arm, pulling him back, and there’s something about the look on
Davey face, pleading and frustrated and vulnerable and-
Jack grabs Davey around the waist and kisses him.
It’s not a careful kiss. It’s rough and uncoordinated, nothing but the hot,
desperate slant of Jack’s mouth across Davey’s. Davey lets out a soft, startled
noise and Jack presses his advantage, tilting his head slightly to deepen the
kiss. His lips part against Davey’s, tongue lapping at the sweetness there,
savoring the taste of him for one second, two...
Jack pulls away. Davey stares at him, his mouth slack with surprise.
“I’m stupidly gone over on you,” Jack admits finally, and the confession seems
to echo through the quiet of the kitchen. He takes a breath and the words start
spilling out of him, like a dam bursting. “It feels like all do is stare at
you: watching the way you walk, the way you talk, the way your eyes light up
when you have another brilliant idea, and, god, Davey, your eyes. They drive me
absolutely crazy. I’ve spent hours painting them, trying to capture how they
sparkle when the light catches them, wondering what they might look like if I
ever told you how much I want you.”
Jack takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly, then carefully removes
his hands from where they’re still resting against Davey’s sides. He waits for
Davey to do something, to say something, but he’s silent as stone. Jack’s heart
freezes and cracks, slipping out of his chest and straight through the floor.
He takes a couple of steps back, running a hand through his hair. Davey keeps
staring.
“Right,” Jack says when it becomes obvious that Davey isn’t going to respond
anytime soon. Well, at least Jack will have a few days to brace himself for the
verbal rejection. “Right. I’ll, uh, just see myself out.”
He musters up a smile, then goes to grab his bag. He gets maybe a foot away
when Davey rushes forward, grabs Jack by his collar, and crushes their lips
back together.
And god it’s good: the warmth, the urgency, the soft slide of their tongues
dancing together, the feel of Davey’s body pressed against him.
“You’re an idiot,” Davey says when they break apart the second time, flushed
and panting. “An absolute idiot.”
“I’m an idiot,” Jack agrees. He feels almost dazed with happiness: light and
relieved and wondrous. He draws Davey into another messy, heated kiss.
“You’ve barely looked at me in over a week because you like me?” Davey says
between kisses, sounding like he can’t decide whether to be angry or
exasperated. “That was your brilliant method of dealing with your crush? What
the hell, Jack! I thought something was seriously wrong!”
“Well, we both know you’re the brains of the operation,” Jack says.
Davey makes an indignant noise that quickly turns into a moan as Jack nips at
his neck. “That’s… not an excuse,” he breathes.
“I’ll make it up to ya,” he promises.
“You’re impossible,” Davey says, and Jack can practically hear him rolling his
eyes.
“You love it,” Jack says into the curve of Davey’s neck.
“I really do,” Davey replies.
Something about the way he says it makes Jack’s breath catch in his throat.
“Yeah?” he asks tentatively, earnestly, pressing their foreheads together.
Davey’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Jack’s not sure how they got to Davey’s bedroom.
He remembers Davey dragging him out of the kitchen, remembers pausing to press
sloppy kisses against the curve of Davey’s neck because Jack couldn’t pull away
long enough to get up the stairs. Davey’s got both hands fisted in the front of
Jack’s shirt; Jack’s own are wrapped around the curve of Davey’s waist. Davey
urges Jack backwards until the backs of Jack’s legs hit the edge of Davey’s
bed. He falls back onto it and pulls Davey down with him in a heap of tangled
limbs.
Jack recovers first, fitting himself comfortably between Davey’s legs and
pressing him into the mattress with the weight of his body, with the force of
the kiss. Davey’s mouth is hot and demanding against his, one leg hiked up high
on Jack’s hip. Jack sneaks a hand up the back of Davey’s shirt, caressing the
soft skin he discovers there. Davey lets out a soft, pleasurable noise and
clutches Jack tighter, his fingers tugging at Jack’s hair until he moans, and
everything devolves into a hazy messy of kissing and touching.
"Fuck," Jack murmurs, pulling away. He needs a second to breathe, needs a
second to think. Davey’s chest is heaving, his clothing rumpled and his shirt
half-unbuttoned, his lips red and kiss-swollen, and his eyes beautifully,
impossibly blue. Just the sight of him is enough to make Jack’s dick twitch and
harden in his pants, and shit, he’s gotta stop before he does something they’ll
both regret.
Jack sits back on his heels and tries to calm his racing heart.
Davey lets out a little whimper of disappointment. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere, Dave, I just need a sec to get my head screwed on straight,” Jack
says.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, pushing himself up on his elbows.
“It’s just, are you okay with this?” Jack asks, serious. “I mean, I’m not
expecting anything from you or nothin, and I don’t want us to get caught up in
the moment and take things too far.”
There’s a pause as Davey absorbs this information. He sits up and edges closer,
then reaches out to grab Jack’s hand.
“Jack, I’m fine with taking things slow,” Davey says, playing with Jack’s
fingers. “But are we slowing down because you don’t want to keep going, or are
we slowing down because you think I don’t want to keep going?”
“Because if you’re pulling away because you think you’re making me
uncomfortable, or that you’re pressuring me, or because you think I don’t want
this,” Davey continues, and Jack watches transfixed as Davey tugs on their
joined hands, presses Jack’s palm against the flat of his stomach, then guides
it lower until Jack’s palming Davey’s dick through his jeans, “you shouldn’t.”
For a moment, Jack just stares at him, dizzy with how much he wants him. He
must let the silence stretch for too long, because Davey drops his hand and
looks away again, losing his nerve. “I mean, but, it’s fine if you don’t, um,
if you don’t want to,” Davey stammers out, red with embarrassment, “I-I can,
uh, we can stop, or, um- “
Jack lunges forward and draws Davey into a deep kiss, pressing him back down
and plundering his mouth with his tongue. He pulls back a hairsbreadth. “I want
you,” Jack says, his voice rough with desire. He grinds their hips together,
slow and deliberate, and marvels at the high whine Davey makes in response.
“But I gotta be sure. You need to be sure.”
Davey stares up at him, his face flushed but his eyes warm and trusting. He
pulls Jack closer, presses their foreheads together, then kisses him with
aching gentleness. “I’m sure, Jack.”
Jack hesitates one more second, gives Davey another chance to change his mind,
then dives back in, capturing Davey’s lips in another heated kiss. Davey’s
mouth is warm and eager against his, his hands moving to clutch at Jack’s
shoulders, urging him closer until they’re pressed flush together.
Jack finishes off the last of the buttons on Davey’s shirt, ripping it off him
and throwing it haphazardly over his shoulder, too distracted by the expanse of
creamy skin lying before him to care where it lands. He works his way down the
length of Davey’s body, nipping and licking at every inch of exposed skin he
can get at as Davey writhes underneath him, leaving a trail of red marks in his
wake.
He swirls his tongue around one of Davey’s nipples. His reaction is better than
anything he’s ever imagined: Davey moans, loud and wanton, arching into the wet
of Jack’s mouth. “God, Jack,” he gasps.
“How do you want this to go, Davey?” Jack asks, dragging a finger teasingly
along the waistband of Davey’s jeans, kissing the soft skin just above his
belly button. “How far do you want to take this?”
“Jack, I—oh,” Davey squirms under Jack’s administrations, his breathing harsh
and ragged. “Just, will you—God, Jack, please.”
Jack pulls himself back up Davey’s body and bites at his earlobe, making him
shiver. “Talk to me, Davey. What do you want?” He trails his lips, feather-
light, along Davey’s neck, then sucks hard at his pulse point until Davey
whines, his hips twitching against the mattress.
“Stop teasing me,” Davey pants, flushed with a mixture of arousal and
frustration.
Jack hides his smirk in the curve of Davey's neck, then grinds their erections
together, just to watch him moan. “Then tell me what you want.”
A growl tears its way out of Davey’s throat. He works Jack’s t-shirt over his
head and tosses it away, then guides their lips back together and all but
devours Jack’s mouth.
“Jack Kelly,” he says when he pulls back, the look in his eyes almost burning
in its intensity, “if you don’t cut the bullshit and come down here and fuck
me, I fucking swear I'm gonna-“
Jack cuts him off with a messy kiss, his dick straining against the crotch of
his jeans—if Davey keeps swearing like that Jack’s gonna cum in his pants
before they even get started.
Their kisses turn frantic as they work to rid each other of the rest of their
clothes. Jack unzipping Davey's fly as Davey tugs at his belt—they separate
just long enough to shimmy out of their jeans and kick them off. Jack kisses
Davey again, slower this time, then reaches around to grab Davey’s ass, pulling
him closer to slot their hips together.
“Do you have…?”
Davey nods, gesturing to his bedside table.
Jack reaches over, rummaging around in the drawer until finds condoms and a
bottle of lube.
“Have you ever done this before?” Jack asks, rolling the bottle between his
hands.
Davey swallows. “Not… with anyone.”
Jack kisses him again, sweet and soft. “I got you,” he promises.
He lubes up his fingers, pushes one of Davey’s knees up towards his chest, and
circles gently around his entrance. He glances up, asking silently for
permission. Davey bites his lip, then nods, watching Jack from under his
eyelashes.
Jack slips a finger inside of him and Davey shudders at the feeling, his breath
hitching and his eyes slipping closed. Jack stretches him slowly, tenderly,
making little noises of encouragement as he works his finger in and out of
Davey’s tight hole.
“You look so gorgeous like this, Dave,” Jack says, leaning down to kiss him as
he adds another finger.
Davey whines against his mouth, rocking his hips in time with Jack’s movements.
Jack curls his fingers, then scissors them, stretching him enough to add a
third. He pushes in deeper, searching for the right spot—he knows he’s found it
when Davey’s hips buck up hard, a choked moan tearing its way from his throat.
“More,” Davey begs, desperate and shaking. He twitches against the sheets,
chest heaving, and fuck, he looks absolutely wrecked. Jack pumps his arm out
and back in, and Davey back arches against the mattress, mouth falling open in
a moan. Jack angles his wrist, gently prodding until he finds Davey’s prostate
again and is rewarded with a broken sob.
“God, Jack, please, I need-”
Jack kisses him again, running a soothing hand across Davey’s heated skin until
his cries subside into whimpers. He slips his fingers out with one final twist
of his hand.
“This still okay, Davey?” Jack asks, tearing open the condom and sliding it
over himself, and even that slight touch is so, so good—he’s achingly hard.
“Yes, come on, Jack, please,” Davey says, bucking his hips impatiently.
Jack kisses him again, then lines himself up to Davey’s entrance, holding his
gaze as he slowly slides in. They both groan at the sensation—it’s almost
overwhelming, the tight, wet heat of Davey’s hole clenched around him as he
bottoms out.
“Fuck, Dave,” Jack hisses, biting his lip as he tries to adjust to the feeling.
“It’s good, Jack. I’m good,” Davey breathes, his fingers digging into Jack’s
arms. He wriggles his hips experimentally—teasingly—then wraps his legs around
Jack waist, pulling him flush against his hips.
Jack steadies himself, pulls back a little, then gently bucks his hips forward.
“Oh,” Davey gasps, his mouth falling open. Jack watches his expression
carefully, keeping an eye out for any hint of pain. When there’s none, he snaps
his hips forward again, a little bit harder this time, starting up a steady
rhythm.
God he’s pretty, Jack thinks, taking in Davey’s flushed face, red lips, and
desperate blue eyes. Jack knows he isn’t going to last—he’s too wound up, too
entranced by the feel of Davey stretched around him to resist much longer.
Still, he’s determined to get Davey off first: he circles his hips, and angles
them slightly on his way out, targeting Davey’s prostate.
“Fuck, Davey, the way you look right now—you’re so beautiful,” Jack murmurs as
Davey quivers and moans.
“Jack, I—ah! Fuck, Jack please—“ His hands clench and unclench, his whole body
trembling as Jack fucks him toward his finish. Jack quickens his pace, pressing
Davey hard into the mattress as his hips snap in and out, in and out.
They’re both teetering on the edge. Jack loses some of his rhythm, his thrusts
becoming erratic as he tries to hold on a little longer. He reaches between
them to wrap a hand around Davey’s cock, pumping his fist in time with his
thrusts. Davey screams, the hand he has pressed over his mouth doing little to
muffle his cries of pleasure. His back arches off the bed, his hips jerking up
to meet Jack’s, babbling, “Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.”
His eyes flutter closed—
“Look at me, David,” Jack commands, snapping his hips forward, hard.
Davey’s eyes snap to his. For a second he holds Jack’s gaze, then his body
quivers and spasms, his dick pulsing in Jack's hand as he spills across his
stomach and chest. Jack’s hips twitch once, twice, then he’s following Davey
over the edge, his orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave.
He collapses on top of Davey with a soft thwump, pressing his lips to Davey’s
temple as he tries to get his breathing under control, completely exhausted.
Davey makes a soft, contented noise and threads his fingers in Jack’s hair,
keeping him close as they both come down from their highs. Jack should probably
roll off of him, but he can’t quite bring himself to do so, can’t bring himself
to be the first one to pull away.
“We should get cleaned up, before the rest of your family gets home,” Jack
points out after a while—not because he wants to move but because someone
should—rubbing his thumb gently across one of Davey’s cheekbones. “Probably
shouldn’t let ‘em walk in on us like this.”
“There’s no rush,” Davey says, leaning into his touch. “My parents are out of
town for the weekend, Sarah won’t be home from work for another few hours, and
I already told you Les is at a sleepover.”  
How…  convenient. Jack’s confusion must show on his face, because Davey
continues with, “I figured we would probably end up fighting when I confronted
you. I didn’t want anyone to be around, in case it got… loud.”
“In case it got loud?”
“Shut up,” Davey mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling into the curve of Jack’s
neck. "My point is, no one will be home anytime soon. We can worry about
looking presentable later.”
Jack huffs out a laugh, curling an arm around Davey’s back, content to lie
there in a sweaty, fucked-out tangle of limbs for a little longer as long as
there’s no danger of someone barging in.  
“Later,” Jack agrees, and drifts off to sleep.
 
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