Jamie's a Reagan. That means that his love for the law and respect for it is in his blood. Family, the law, God--those are things he respects, not necessarily in that order.
A small part of Jamie thinks that he's disappointed someone by not wanting to become a priest. But it's the 21st century; he doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to.
Sydney breaks up with him on a Tuesday. It's not the first time. The stress gets to them all in different ways. Midterms are almost around the corner. In this little patch of time, their relationship is a little like Schrodinger's cat. Jamie's not sure where it's at.
Jamie needs something to remind himself he's an adult, who makes his own adult decisions. He can't make any for anyone else.
Going to law school is his idea, he reminds himself. And sometimes, it's stressful. That's a little what college is for. Like any self-respecting law student, he goes to a club out to take his mind off of it.
Right now, he doesn't want anything that reminds him of his life. No respectable law school, no going home with girls with white teeth and soft smiles. He doesn't want that.
No one's saying Jamie does this kind of thing often, but sometimes he does. And he just got dumped, so he's entitled to be a little sad about it.
This time doesn't go with his friends. This is a drink alone and semi-responsibly sort of thing, not being dragged to a house party, not being forced to socially drink. No judgement if he finds someone to go home with--or not.
Or with whom, for that matter.
This isn't his usual kind of place, either. Stardust isn't a college haunt; it's also the kind of place you really don't talk about, the kind of place that gets more linked to drugs and sex more than usual clubs, even.
Jamie's a little surprised he gets in, but he's spiked his hair and put on a shirt that he knows is too tight. He tries to put on a grin when he walks in and hears a whistle, but he's not entirely sure he wants to know who that's from.
On the other hand, Jamie fights a flush, because it's nice to be wanted. Even if it's just to ogle.
He starts off at the bar, ordering a bar, planning to nurse it while he just looks around. Hell, maybe he'd even dance, but the dance floor is more full of fishnet and strangely coordinated grinding. Jamie doesn't think he's ready for that.
He's not a dancing kind of guy.
Of course, someone else is. The crowd seems to part, occasionally, to let people off to head to a table or the bar counter, but there's a lull, and out come this guy, who's a little out of it. He has a smile that crosses his whole face, and dark curls, the type of curls that Jamie just wants to touch once, just to see what it's like. Girls do that all the time. In fact, some girls try to touch his hair, and he just bats them off, smiling even harder, laughter ringing like a bell.
Curls has Jamie's attention. The dark purple shirt stretched over his shoulders keeps it.
The guy buys himself a drink, and the smile is different.
"You come here often?" Curls asks, like it's not the most obvious pickup line in the world, even if Jamie's slighly disconcerted he didn't see him head near the small, two person table Jamie's commandeered. He takes the seat across from him.
Jamie tells Curls that, and Jamie appends, "I don't really know what you're going for, here." He toys with the label on his second beer, trying to act natural, act casual.
Curls laughs, and Jamie keeps his gaze on his adam's apple. "I don't recognize your face, is all," Curls defends. He tosses his head to look around behind his shoulder, and his curls bounce. He says, lower, "And you were looking at mine. Seems like I should return the favor."
Jamie is drunk enough that he thinks he has a great idea. "Maybe I wouldn't want you to," he says, edging dangerously close to the truth.
"Oh, come on, you're not that ugly," he leans in close and chuckles. Jamie can see the dark of his eyes, even in this light. "Can I get a name? Mine's Noble."
" 's Jamie," Jamie slurs, and it sounds slightly odd to his ears. Noble sounds fake; who names a kid that? Jamie goes to calls for a seltzer and water, to which Noble just laughs behind him.
"Got to pace myself," Jamie says, and he doesn't know why he's defending his drinks to this guy, at all. "Night's young."
There's something in the water they use at Stardust that makes it special, he thinks. Maybe it's placebo, but he swears it clears his head faster.
"Let me buy you a drink, buddy," Noble says, and well, Jamie's not turning it down. "Unless you're waiting for someone?"
Jamie shakes his head. He's not, not really. He has no plans. He's just here to have a good time. So he takes another seat and doesn't stop Noble from taking the one next to him.
Sometime between Noble telling him about something his sister did and something about a guy he knew who could party, a martini finds its way into Jamie's hands.
By the time Jamie's shared his own story about his sister to commiserate, Jamie's left staring at the three olives in the glass, and he takes a moment to swallow all three in one gulp.
Jamie can feel the guy looking at the line of his neck, and Jamie flushes.
"Neat trick," Noble says. "That only work for olives?"
"I've always been a swallower." Then Jamie coughs, because of how that sounds. The worst part is, Jamie doesn't know if he wants that. Jamie doesn't do this kind of thing often--he doesn't really do more--lax--clubs, and he doesn't really do guys. Stardust's known for both.
Noble stares at him a little more intently, and then he smirks. "Really?" He gives Jamie a look-over, and he doesn't even try to hide the leer.
Jamie doesn't think he wanted him to.
Jamie swallows a lump in his throat. It's true, but he's not going to list all the things he used to swallow, not when Noble clearly has one thing on his mind. He doesn't want to know how badly the flush is showing on his face either because it's nice to feel wanted, nice to know that he can go out and no one give a damn about how eloquent he is or how he did on the last test.
He looks back; Noble's shoulders still look good in that shirt.
Noble leans in, says, "You want to get out of here?" and Jamie comes with him.
They're not big on words, here, but it's dark and they're the only two there, which is private enough. It's not pitch black; there's some light. It's coming from the pink sparkly lamp in by the loveseat.
Jamie giggles about it, but, "At least this's better than the bathroom." He smiles, aiming for sheepish, but it just sounds stupid. But maybe it's a good think Noble's eyes are more focused on how Jamie's dick's chubbing up in his pants.
Noble snorts. "You got a better place?"
Jamie thinks about it and he must pull a face because Noble just laughs. "My roommate's not, uh," Jamie scrambles, but Noble nods and places a finger to Jamie's mouth. Jamie gets a handful of Noble's curls.
They don't talk after that.
Jamie does not balk at the sight of a dick. He has one. He sees it every day. Seeing someone else's dick is not that unusual--he played sports as a kid. So Jamie tries to keep from trying to look dumb-eyed.
He gets on his knees and looks up at Noble. If they were in a different situation, Noble might have been cheesy, given Jamie two thumbs up. As it is, Noble puts a hand on Jamie's head, thumb pressing into a spot behind Jamie's ear that makes him feel tingly in a way that he didn't know about.
Might as well go ahead, Jamie thinks, and he gets his hand on Noble's shaft, and then he tentatively licks the head. He hears Noble's breath catch, and he opens his mouth and feeds a little more into his mouth.
"Fuck," he says, while Jamie tries to get used to the sensation of a cock in his mouth. Jamie doesn't have much of a gag reflex, but it tries to assert itself anyway when Jamie hollows out his cheeks and Noble bucks into his mouth a couple of times.
Noble's dick is hot and heavy and slightly musty on his tongue, and Jamie chases the taste, the sensation. Above him, Noble's saying something, maybe it's not even English, mostly incomprehensible and Jamie's not sure if it's he's because he's sex-stupid right now. But the particular invective of this last fuck lets Jamie know Noble's into it.
It's definitely not worse than swallowing anything else he's put in his mouth, and Jamie's no quitter. He pulls back to take a breath, and Jamie looks up. Noble's looking down at him with this expression on his face--and fuck, he might be high or something, but it's a look that's almost too intense to bear.
Jamie flushes, and if he had a thought, it's gone.
He gets back to it.
Jamie puts his hands on Noble's thighs to steady him and sets his own pace. It doesn't take long, probably, but objectively, all he can smell is ballsweat and tang, and it's gross, but tell that to Jamie's dick, which twitches in expectation.
That, of course, might also be the little 'ah' sounds, he's getting from Noble, which only make Jamie want to bob a little faster and try out his tongue in more places than he can comfortably reach, mostly running over Noble's slit by the end, when Jamie feels a yank in his hair and hears a, "Fuck, I'm going to--"
True to his word, Jamie swallows. It's not exactly pleasant, but it's not terribly unpleasant.
"You want a hand with that?" Noble offers a few moments later, gesturing to Jamie's dick, breath still a little short.
Jamie takes that offer.
"What about your roommate," Noble says, as a non-sequitur, like he and Jamie are still having a drink at the bar, and they didn't just have sex in the backroom.
"You know, uh, law students," Jamie mutters. "Who knows what's going on?"
"What, he'll kick you out for interrupting his studying?" Noble may have meant it as a joke, but it was a very real possibility. He goes thoughtful for a second. "You a law student, too?"
Jamie nods, fumbling back into his pants. "Yeah, I am."
"Maybe I'll look you up, then," Noble says, but Jamie knows that's just a thing you say. Never trust something said in the afterglow. "When you make it big. I don't forget a face, you know."
He grins a little like a shark, and Jamie feels a shiver down his spine.
Still, Jamie thinks twice about becoming a lawyer after that.
Jamie keeps thinking twice until he goes home, crashes, and wakes up fifteen hours later.