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It’s the shortest suggestion they’ve gotten yet, and somehow the vagueness of it, the implications, make Jack a little hot under his collar.

‘Film’

“Does she mean filming ourselves or watching pornography?” Bitty asks, the little note spread between his hands. He’s biting his lip, and Jack’s body is getting too used to the correlation between the box and fantastic sex with Bitty, because his dick is already interested, regardless of how ambiguous the prompt is.

Jack squints at the paper because he has to do something that isn’t pinning Bitty to the bed. “That’s definitely Shitty’s handwriting.”

“Oh, so it’s probably neither then. Great. Your best friend wants us to have sex while watching a Wes Anderson film.”

“I think Shitty’s really more of a Baz Lurhmann kind of guy.”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking you while Moulin Rouge plays in the background.”

“I could fuck you to Romeo and Juliet?” Jack can’t manage to say it with a straight face and from the way Bitty cracks a smile, he knows neither of them will ever be able to watch either of those movies again.

Bitty takes the note from him and looks at it contemplatively. A contemplative Bitty, Jack has learned, usually leads to Something Great.

“I don’t think Shitty would want us to watch porn together. It goes against his whole speech on how most porn is dehumanizing for women and the whole respect for sex workers thing.”

“He probably thinks we’ll watch gay porn, Bits.”

Bitty ducks his head, expression embarrassed. “That was very heteronormative of me, especially for a gay guy.”

Jack laughs, full-bodied, because they’re having a conversation about what kind of sex their friend wants them to have, and God, what is his life?

“I just have a hard time imagining Shitty wanting us to make a sex tape.”

“Bud,” Jack says gently. “Knowing him and Lardo, they probably have a few of their own.”

“Just because Shitty has somehow found a way to be involved in our sex life does not mean I have any interest in even thinking about his.”

“We don’t have to do this one,” Jack says, because while he kind of loves the idea of having a video of them to watch when he’s alone in a hotel room on roadies, he loves Bitty more.

Bitty blushes, curling and uncurling the note in his hands. “I’ll think about it,” he says quietly, and his blush gets even redder, however that’s possible. “It might be fun. As long as nobody ever saw it.”

“Nobody but us, bud,” Jack promises, and Bitty crawls into his lap, drawing him in for a kiss.

“Another night, though,” Bitty says, and Jack whines, he can’t help himself, Bitty’s warm and make-out flustered in his lap. But Bitty ignores him and stands, already turning toward the living room. “Now I kind of want to watch Moulin Rouge.”

Jack laughs and lets him cue up the movie, settling the box in their side table drawer, the little note on top.

**

“I think we should film ourselves having sex.”

Jack doesn’t even bother finishing his paragraph, just sets the book down in his lap and looks up at Bitty with undivided attention.

Bitty fidgets under his gaze, and really, they’ve done some interesting things to each other’s bodies at this point, but somehow Bitty always seems a little shy about their sex life.

“Okay,” Jack agrees, because he’d already agreed to some weird things, and this doesn’t even crack the top ten.

“I just think.” Bitty looks down at his toes, then back at Jack, pretty pink blush already climbing his cheeks. “It might be fun for us. I already know I enjoyed the mirror thing, so.”

Jack can feel his face heat up at the thought of their attempt at mirror sex. Seeing Bitty in the moment at all sorts of glorious new angles was breathtaking, so this. This had to be good.

“Did you want to use my fancy camera?” That probably sounds too eager, but if he was being completely honest, Jack Zimmermann had every intention of worshipping his boyfriend on film and then watching it at least twice a day.

Bitty blushes darker but nods. “If we’re gonna do it, might as well do it in HD.”

“You already sound like a porn star.” Jack grins. “Talk high-quality video to me.”

Bitty throws a pillow at him.

**

Jack’s on a roadie for two weeks.

They’re the longest two weeks of his life because all he can think about is the fact that when he gets home, he and Bitty can film something for him to watch on future roadies.

In the meantime, though, he’s stuck with a bus full of hockey bros and tame snapchats of pies and peewee figure skating from Bitty, because Tater is a nosy dude and won’t leave Jack in peace when Bitty sends him things.

Almost as if to prove Jack’s point, Tater leans over the armrest between them to peer at the screen Jack’s fiddling with. It’s just a bag of flour and pile of butter (along with a recipe Jack has seen before, but can't place) in a snapchat from Bitty, but it proves his point. Jack sighs.

“Itty Bitty in good mood, yes?” Tater wiggles his eyebrows and Jack promises himself that Shitty and Tater will never be in the same room together ever. There’s too big a chance Jack’s sex life would take a Very Strange Turn.

“I hope so. I think this pie is for the skating open house tomorrow night.”

Tater shakes his head. “No, Itty Baker only make that pie for special times.” He wiggles his eyebrows again and Jack contemplates throwing himself from the bus. He decides not to for the sole reason that it would make him look unnecessarily dramatic. And that he might hurt himself before he and Bitty can make their sex tape.

“Do I want to know what special time means?”

And thank God for Poots and his weird need to be in Every Conversation.

“I know I don’t,” Jack replies, then shoves in his headphones and tries not to count down the days until he sees Bitty.

**

Jack may or may not throw himself at Bitty the moment he steps through the door.

Really, though, Bitty is ridiculously easy to pick up, and he’s more than willing to wrap his arms and legs around Jack, to let him carry him around their apartment.

Bitty laughs and Jack presses kisses to his neck and really, Jack’s never loved anyone so much as he loves Bitty.

“Welcome home, sweetpea,” Bitty says, pushing Jack’s hair off his forehead.

“I missed you,” Jack says, even though it’s kind of unnecessary because it’s honest and real.

Bitty settles his arms on Jack’s shoulders, managing to look demure even when Jack’s got him pinned to a wall. “I missed you too.”

He leans in, lips ghosting across Jack’s jaw until he reaches Jack’s ear, and Jack knows what he’s going to say, is already full-body shivering under the implications, but it’s still Exciting to hear Bitty say it.

“I set up the camera in the other room, did you want to put it to good use?”

“Geese pictures are a good use,” Jack can’t help but reply, and Bitty laughs as Jack carries him into the bedroom.

“I might not be able to compete with the geese pictures,” Bitty jokes, and just for that Jack drops him on the bed a little high than usual.

Bitty bounces and laughs, already more at ease.

Jack shakes his head, hastily tugging off his t-shirt.

“Lord, hon, give a boy a minute to turn the dang camera on.” Bitty laughs and Jack lets him crawl just far enough to turn Jack’s camera on before tugging him back and drawing him into a heated kiss.

“You’re sure?” Jack has to ask, has to be sure, because this is only good if Bitty’s in as much as he is.

“I really am,” Bitty says, reaching up to trail his fingers through Jack’s hair, his expression soft and pink. Then he smiles, and that softness is still there, but there’s a layer of wickedness over it that has Jack’s dick very much a player in the game. “Fuck me hard, Jack, I want to watch this video and still feel you.”

And. Well. Jack can do that.

He starts slow, just touching, rubbing the palms of his hands up and down Bitty’s sides, stripping him out of his clothes. Bitty’s always had sensitive skin, always been so responsive, but to do it all under the watchful eye of Jack’s camera feels like More.

Jack’s thumb brushes across Bitty’s nipple, slow and sure, then with more pressure, and Bitty arcs beneath his touch, his hard cock bobbing up to brush against Jack’s, weeping and wet and oh so purple.

And Jack kinda thinks they won’t even make it to the actual fucking.

Jack ruts himself against Bitty’s thighs, his cock. He presses his lips to Bitty’s neck and shifts, just enough, that he knows the camera gets a beautiful eyeful of Bitty spread out on their sheets, flushed red and wanting. Jack hopes the camera’s picking up all the sound too, because Bitty is in top form, drawn-out whines and breathy “Jack Jack Jack”s filling the space between them.

Jack dips his tongue along Bitty’s clavicle and Bitty shudders beneath him.

“Jack,” he breathes, “Jack, please?”

“Please what?” Jack asks, because Bitty moaning is Great, but Bitty moaning out all the wretched things he wants Jack to do to him is Something Else.

“Touch me.”

“I already am.” As if to accentuate his point, Jack brushes his thumbs over Bitty’s nipples again, scratches softly across his sides, leaving faint pink lines in his wake.

“Jack,” Bitty cries out, his own hands clutching at Jack’s shoulders, probably—hopefully—leaving marks that Jack can wear around the apartment, marks Jack can still feel when he and Bitty inevitably watch this tape right after they’re done.

Jack moves again, just enough that he’s sure the camera will see everything, and then wraps a hand around Bitty’s dick.

Bitty gasps and several strokes later, comes beneath him.

Jack hums and licks his hand clean.

Bitty’s eyes go dark beneath him. “Sweetheart, you should absolutely fuck me now.”

Jack smirks, because he’s still hard, he’s still wanting, and Bitty’s pliable and sated beneath him. So, yeah. He can do that.

He rolls Bitty onto his stomach and opens him up nice and slow, making sure the camera catches the angle, the stretch and glide of Jack’s fingers, the way he pushes slowly, ever so slowly into Bitty. He’ patient, both because he wants Bitty to be comfortable, but also because he Really Likes watching his fingers disappear into Bitty’s ass. Sue him, it’ll make for a great video.

Bitty, who’s hard against the sheets again, because Jack is Damn Good at what he does, makes all kinds of muffled noises. He always talks less during a second orgasm, but Jack doesn’t mind huffed moans instead of actual words.

Jack sits back, because this view is always Amazing.

“Jack,” Bitty whines, impatient. “Fuck me already. Good Lord.”

“I think we need to talk about your use of religious language in the bedroom.”

“Jack Zimmermann, I may be a southern gentleman, but that doesn’t mean I won’t roll over and—”

Whatever he’s going to say is lost, because Jack presses into him, deep and slick and Oh.

Jack tries to press kisses to Bitty’s shoulders, his neck, to do more than just breathe wetly against his back, but being inside Bitty is never something he’s going to get used to. Being this close to him, feeling This Much. It’s always overwhelming for Jack.

Beneath him, Bitty looks as though he feels the same way, but instead of sitting still and letting his brain short circuit like Jack is, he’s rolling his hips against the mattress, doing what he can to fuck back on Jack’s cock and find friction against the sheets. But Bitty’s always been a Doer.

Jack shakes his head and takes over, pumping a little harder into Bitty as they go. He rolls his hips, deep and searching, and Bitty lets him know when he hits The Spot. Bitty tenses beneath him, hands almost tearing at the sheets, and Jack picks up the pace at that same angle, because he’s always been dedicated to mastering the things he enjoys. Taking Bitty apart just so happens to be one of those things.

He manages to reach beneath Bitty and wrap a hand around his cock, because while he knows Bitty can come untouched if Jack’s vigorous enough (and wow, wasn’t that a revealing session), a second orgasm is a little more difficult.

So Jack jacks him off (heh) and then Bitty comes again, clenching around Jack and finally—Finally—Jack comes too.

He collapses against Bitty, sweat, thighs burning a little bit, but never wanting to be anywhere but there.

**

“We can’t watch it right now,” Bitty says, skin flushed pink and hair still damp. “I literally just showered.”

“I think I can afford you taking two showers in one day,” Jack replies from where he’s still sitting in their come-covered bed like some heathen, because he desperately wanted to watch their tape instead of showering. It probably meant turning down shower sex, or at least a couple sexy soapy minutes, but Jack has Priorities.

And if they watch the tape now, then he can definitely see Bitty shower the second time around.

“You’re a menace, Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty says, but climbs into their bed anyways, pressing his shower-warm skin up against Jack’s. “Show me our masterpiece.”

So Jack does.