Jack undresses, his eyes closed, exhausted by the long day. Brock diligently does not look at his alpha. He's still getting used to the fact of having an alpha, the more so the permissibility of looking at powerful tanned body. Taking off his shirt and casually throwing it in a hamper, Jack sleepy rubs his eyes and drops his hands to his fly. He unfastens three buttons in one motion opening thick pubic hair and Brock flushes and looks away again, inwardly cursing himself for inability to resist peeping. He'd think Jack was deliberately provoking him, but he looks like he's about to pass out. Being the squad commander is fucking exhausting, Brock knew it for a long time, that's why he does not rush for a dubious position.
Though, Jack could wear underwear under jeans. Brock licks his lips, realizing he's staring at him again. He stands with his head resting on the wall, jeans down to mid-thigh, arms hanging limply along his sides. Brock gets up and warily goes to the alpha. Jack barely lifts his eyelids, looking at omega from under his eyelashes. Brock feels his cheeks starting to glow, but he doesn't stop. It's like helping a teammate who's tired after a fight, he says to himself. With slight differences...
He puts his palms on the broad evenly rising chest, transfixed for a moment fascinated by difference between his olive skin on the Jack's tan. He slides his hands down the hard pectoral muscles, sharply outlined press, to the pit of the navel and that dark woolliness over the lower abdomen, which attracted his eyes in the first place, struggling with the desire to repeat this way with his mouth, to caress the hot skin with his tongue. Jack watches him without reaction, his soft cock rests in a nest of thick hair, showing no signs of interest.
Brock spreads his hands, stroking the pelvic bones, runs his hands under the loose belt of jeans and slowly pulls them down, kneeling in front Jack. Gathering fabric near the ankles, he helps Jack to step out from the pant legs and puts jeans in hamper to the shirt. Jack sighs quietly, weary. Brock strokes his legs, straightening stiff hairs. He can't help himself and leans forward to touch Jack's cockhead with closed lips, then rises from the knees. Jack doesn't need this right now. Brock embraces alpha's waist and leads him to unmade bed, then helps him sit down. Jack shakes his head at the question if he needs something and falls on the bed face down, hugging a pillow. Brock snorts and covers him with thin sheets, rather for beautifully draping nakedness than for warm.
Brock gathers dirty clothes and leaves the bedroom, turning off the light but leaving the door open to be able to see Jack. He doesn't want to sleep yet. He was just laying on the roof today looking through the rifle scope, providing a clean escape route for their team. Laundry done, Brock goes to the kitchen, assembles a sandwich with a mountain of meat, slowly and thoughtfully eats it, takes out of the fridge a jug and makes a few sips of thick dark beer, which Jack buys only for him. Brock licks off the sweet drops from his lips, once again experiencing a surge of affection towards his alpha, puts the jug back in the fridge and goes back to the washing machine. Clothes moved to the dryer, he returns to the bedroom. He could watch TV, but watch Jack is much better.
Brock bites his lip, gets rid of t-shirt and soft sweatpants. After a moment of hesitance he decides to leave his underwear on. Stepping to the bed, he carefully puts his knee on the edge, keenly listening to Jack's even breathing. Made sure the alpha is fast asleep, Brock climbs on the bed completely. But if he usually stretches along the edge waiting for Jack to tug him closer, today he suddenly has the illusion of freedom, so he gets on all fours and crawls to a huge alpha's body, beckoning him with it's golden skin, like a fire beckons moth. Jack radiates heat too, rich, even, calling to touch his hand, cheek, chest, whole body. Brock does not notice as he climbs on alpha, coming to himself laying on him from neck to ankles. Realizing his doing, he freezes for a moment, but without reaction from Jack, he waves his insecurity off and hugs alpha's shoulders, nuzzling at soft hair at his nape. Despite the shower at the base Jack still has weak smell of gunpowder and smoke. Maybe the smell just invaded his skin during the years of the war. Brock holds Jack tighter and falls asleep, lulled by a deep breath, swaying on evenly rising back as in his mother's arms.