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I'm alright with a slow burn

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‘Leave the blinds open’

Jack blinks. Then blinks again. Then almost puts the note in a drawer somewhere it would -- in high likelihood -- be Lost Forever.

Because Jack is not. Jack isn’t.

Jack doesn’t consider himself an especially possessive person. Bitty is Really Attractive and it’s flattering when other people notice that. Jack doesn’t even bat an eye when people flirt with Bitty because he trusts him. He knows him.

He just also doesn’t really want to share him with anyone. In, like, a Sexual Way. Which he thinks is pretty reasonable.

Jack sighs. This is what he gets for opening another note without Bitty.

Maybe he should call Shitty. Because it’s Shitty’s handwriting, and Shitty Knows Jack. He knows Jack is the Least Interested Person On The Planet when it comes to other people seeing more of Bitty than strictly necessary. Hell, Jack doesn’t want people to see more of himself than necessary either. And this note is just.

Yeah. Jack’s gonna call Shitty.

***

He has to wait until Bitty’s at work the next morning to call.

It’s usually hard to tell over the phone, but Jack lived with Shitty for four years and would consider himself an expert at deciphering whether Shitty is high or not.

“Jack. My dude. My guy. What’s happening?”

He probably should’ve waited until brunch.

Jack clears his throat. “I had a question for you.”

“The answer is yes.”

“It’s not really one of those questions, Shits.”

“Lay it on my wonderfully warm, naked chest, Jackie.”

He Definitely should’ve waited until brunch.

But a baked Shitty is just as honest as a sober one, so Jack might as well get on with it while one of them is still sober.

“I pulled the voyeurism note out of the box.”

Shitty’s silent on the other end. It’s a hard to interpret silence, but Jack takes a shot in the dark and guesses confused.

“Bruh. There wasn’t a voyeurism note in the box? Not unless Lardo snuck one in at the last minute. I’d ask her, but she’s been in the painting zone for like, four days. I only see her when she runs out of nachos.”

Jack frowns and looks down at the note in his hands, decidedly written in Shitty’s handwriting.

“It’s definitely one of yours.”

He can actually hear the way Shitty’s rubbing his mustache.

“Is it the mirror one? Self-voyeurism? I thought you guys already did that one? Or maybe the masturbation one? You’ll have to give me a little more context, we researched a lot of sex acts for that box. They kinda blur together after a bit. Too much gay porn will do that after a while. It was a lot of dicks, Jack. Not in a bad way, just in a reaffirming way. Like, more straight dudes should watch gay porn kind of way, it really helps with the—”

Jack presses his hand to his face and cuts Shitty off before he really gets going. Jack’s only interested in one dick, only plans to be interested in one dick, so this conversation Does Not need to be happening.

“It’s the one that says to open the blinds.”

Shitty, thankfully, stops talking about dicks.

“Oh, why didn’t you say so? That’s not voyeurism, that’s a genius mix of weather and home improvement. Haven’t you noticed the truly spectacular way the sun lights up your bedroom if you leave the blinds open?”

“Yes?” Jack’s taken too many photography glasses not to notice that. He’s also been woken up by a beam of sunlight straight to the face, so he and Bits keep a firmly shut curtain most mornings. “Why do you know that?”

“Because we’re best friends, Jack,” Shitty says, like that answers anything. “I figured somebody with as many calculative functions in their brain as you would pick up on blinds equating sunlight.”

“That was the vaguest possible way for you to suggest morning sex.”

“Bruh.” Shitty sounds like that statement sobered him almost completely. “It’s not about morning sex, it’s about your totally valid obsession with seeing our lovely boy Bitty in the sunlight. You’ve got, like, a tanning fetish or something.”

“I don’t have a tanning fetish.”

“Okay, maybe that’s the wrong phrasing, but you really enjoy seeing Bitty in the sun. Don’t try to deny that, half of your Instagram photos of him are sunshine extravaganzas. You get actual heart eyes when he’s shirtless in the summertime. Or, dick eyes, I guess? Lusty vision? Pe—”

“Let me get this straight,” Jack cuts Shitty off, then immediately hears him snicker, because yeah, Jack said straight, very funny. “You want me and Bittle to have early morning sunshine sex?”

“Yes? Didn’t you read the note?”

Jack hangs up the phone.

***

It’s not nearly as hard as Jack expects it to be to convince Bitty to leave the blinds open and only the sheer curtain closed that night. (That curtain alleviates a Lot of Jack’s voyeurism worries--and the fact that their bedroom window is several stories off the ground. He still maintains that he’s Not possessive).

“As long as you don’t expect me to get up and close the blinds when the sun starts shining,” Bitty teases, crawling beneath their comforter. He’s only wearing shorts, like he Knows Jack’s planning something.

He should probably tell Bitty, but he kind of wants to surprise him. It will be a treat for both of them, Bitty’s bare skin sun-warmed and sleepy.

Jack’s dick is invested in this plan. He wonders how obvious he was about the sunshine thing that Shitty planned a whole sex act around it.

Probably too obvious.

Looking at Bitty curled in their bed, though, Jack thinks it was probably worth it.

***

Just like Shitty said it would, the sun fills Jack and Bitty’s bedroom with an almost ethereal glow. The thin sheer curtain does nothing to lessen the beauty of the sunlight, and it really does make everything seem a little warmer, a little softer. Jack’s awake almost the moment it crests their windowsill and he’s greeted by a Sight To Behold.

Bitty’s un-burrowed himself during the night, stretching out his small frame to show off a Ridiculously Beautiful amount of skin. And just like Jack knew it would, the sunlight stripes across it, creating a luminous, glowing trail on Bitty’s skin. It’s a trail Jack desperately wants to follow with his lips. And maybe his tongue.

But he won’t do more than press gentle kisses to Bitty’s skin while he’s asleep. Though, if Jack takes his time doing so, he doesn’t think either of them will mind.

He shifts closer, slowly, still half-asleep himself, until he’s pressed up against Bitty’s back, his nose gliding along the nape of his neck. The sheets glide deliciously along his dick, and Jack is Very Grateful he went to bed naked.

Bitty’s skin is bright and warm and Jack’s heart is literally swelling. His dick is too, but his heart takes precedence because Bitty is Wonderful and Sunny and Jack desperately wants to give him everything he can.

He presses his lips to the top of Bitty’s spine, gentle and languid, then moves down, following the sunlight with the ghost of kisses across his shoulders, down the soft skin along the curve of his back.

Bitty mumbles something and rolls over, giving Jack a completely new landscape to map, the sunlight leaving dips and valleys and shadows along his collarbones and neck.

And then, mercy of all mercies, Bitty’s eyelids flutter and his breathing shifts to wakeful.

“Jack?”

Jack leans in and presses more kisses to the sunny patches on Bitty’s skin, letting himself use a little more pressure now. He dips down to press one to Bitty’s left nipple—over his heart, because even when initiating sex Jack’s a self-acknowledged Sap—and that seems to wake Bitty up even more if the sleepy moan is any indication.

Jack glances down toward where the sheets are twisted around Bitty’s waist to see if—yep. Bitty’s awake down there too. This is off to an even better start than Jack had imagined.

Jack tongues his way up to Bitty’s lips, morning breath be damned, because Bitty is Sunshine Incarnate and getting to love him like this is everything Jack has ever wanted.

Bitty hums into the kiss, his fingers coming up to tangle in Jack’s hair. “To what do I owe this lovely wakeup call?”

Jack noses along Bitty’s jaw and traces the sunlight along his skin with his fingers.

“Are you aware of how delicious you look in the sunlight?”

Bitty’s blush spreads down his chest, sun-warmed and inviting.

“You’re a flatterer, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack lets his hand dip lower, lets his fingers trace Bitty’s waistband, watches the shadows of his fingers play along the stage of Bitty’s sunlit stomach.

“I’m honest,” Jack replies, a touch too late, and Bitty laughs light and soft.

“I didn’t realize the sun turned you on so much.”

Jack hums, then turns his lips back toward Bitty’s nipple, laving at the skin until Bitty arcs beneath his touch. Bitty’s fingers tighten in his hair.

“It’s not the sun,” Jack says into Bitty’s skin, pressing wet kisses to his chest as he travels to the other nipple.

Bitty grunts beneath him and Jack can practically hear the eyeroll.

He lets himself kiss Bitty’s nipple raw before responding, grateful that he didn’t shave yesterday. Beard burn is truly a Magical Thing.

“Okay, it’s not completely the sun, but it is you in the sun.”

Bitty settles against the mattress more fully, relaxing in a pool of sunlight. Jack thinks Bitty has to know the effect that has on Jack. He Has to Know. Otherwise, Jack is dating the most unfairly hot person in all of existence.

That one might be true regardless, but Jack has a feeling (based solely on the little smirk gracing Bitty’s lovely face) that it’s the first thing, too.

“I want you to know that in the future I’m absolutely using this to my advantage,” Bitty says, stretching luxuriously.

Jack changes his mind. Bitty is The Worst.

He slides his hand over the bulge in Bitty’s shorts and relishes the way Bitty jumps beneath him.

“I expected nothing less,” Jack says, and Bitty’s laugh is breathless. Then it’s not so much a laugh as a moan when Jack drags the heel of his hand down Bitty’s cock, still trapped within those ridiculous shorts. One of these days, Jack is going to fuck Bitty in those shorts. Not today. But someday.

Bitty’s fingers scratch in Jack’s hair, just a bit too hard, and Jack smirks.

“You think you could come like this?” Jack asks, trailing his thumb over the outline of Bitty’s dick. He can feel the drag of fabric against it and mimics the motion with his stubble along Bitty’s neck.

Bitty shivers under his touch, eyelids fluttering. “Jack,” he gasps, and it awakens something possessive in Jack’s chest.

“I think you could,” Jack murmurs, applying more pressure, twisting his fingers through the fabric. Bitty whines, his head thrown back into their pillows. He’s lit up, sunlight crisscrossing over his chest, shades of tan and pink, more beautiful skin than Jack knows what to do with. He settles for pressing more wet kisses over Bitty’s nipples.

Bitty squirms, overwhelmed but not there yet, and Jack slows his pace, refusing to let this become something frantic. Not when there’s still so much sunlight in the morning.

“Jack,” Bitty whimpers. “Jack, Jack, Jack.” His hips thrust upward against Jack’s hand, desperate and searching.

“You’re so beautiful in the sunlight,” Jack whispers, right over Bitty’s heart, because he’s a Sap, but he knows this softness, this light, gets them both off, too.

Bitty’s eyes are screwed shut, and Jack knows he’s almost there, riding the edge.

Jack dips the thumb of his other hand just under the waistband of Bitty’s shorts, so that the thatch of hair there grazes his knuckle.

Bitty tenses, his mouth pink and sun-kissed, skin warm and luminous. Jack works him through the aftershocks, the waves of rolling pleasure, and smiles against Bitty’s neck.

Jack drags his hand back over the damp spot on Bitty’s shorts, reveling in the way Bitty’s body bends to him, the way he moves languidly in the sunlight, basking in the warmth of a new day and Jack Jack Jack.

(Jack likes to think Bitty is basking in his glow. Because he has to be glowing. There’s no way he isn’t, with this beautiful man beside him in their bed.)

And Bitty, sated and warm and golden in the sun, smiles up at him with more teeth than probably necessary. Which means Jack is in for what will probably be a Pretty Spectacular orgasm.

Jack leans into their mattress and lets himself roll his hips just a little bit. Enough that his aching cock can have a little bit of friction against the sheets.

Bitty makes a disapproving noise and rolls them so he’s on top of Jack, elbows braced so that there’s just a hair of space between them.

Jack settles his hand on Bitty’s hips, tempted to tug him down, to find his release rubbing against the warm skin of Bitty’s thighs, Bitty’s stomach, Bitty’s hands. But he waits, because Bitty’s eyes are dark and wanting and Jack will give him Anything.

Bitty presses a lazy kiss to Jack’s lips -- tongue a languid press against the seam of his lips -- then drags the wet press of his mouth down Jack’s throat.

He bypasses Jack’s chest in favor of slinking down his body so that his golden head is settled beside Jack’s jutting cock.

They’ve done this before—blowjobs were Bitty’s favorite, in the beginning, both to give and to receive, and those memories still reside in Jack’s admittedly kind of embarrassing bank of jack off material. But this, with Bitty draped in sunlight and pressing soft kisses to the crease of Jack’s thigh, feels different. There’s a warmth Jack has never seen before, never felt before, and it makes him ache.

Bitty hovers over his cock like he’s fully aware that Jack’s brain is somewhere between short-circuiting and going into heated overdrive. Like he’s content to just wait and breathe hot air against Jack’s dick until Jack’s brain is done.

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Bitty whispers, different, more reverent and less desperate than moments before, when he was chasing his own pleasure under the press of Jack’s careful hands. He presses a barely there kiss to the tip of Jack’s cock, and his lips come away shiny with pre-come.

Jack thinks he might not even make it through the blowjob.

“Sunlight looks good on you,” Bitty says, and his brown eyes are nothing but trouble. Jack loves him So Much.

“Now who has a sunlight fetish?”

Bitty noses along Jack’s dick, giving him A Look, and Jack laughs. The bed shakes with him and Bitty’s hands are warm and the room is still so sunlit that it’s almost too bright. But Jack wouldn’t change anything.

“That’s still you, sweetpea,” Bitty says. “I’m just stating a fact. Sunlight looks good on you. Almost good enough to eat.”

And then he slides his wet lips over Jack and everything is bright.

It’s a terrible almost-pun, but Bitty’s mouth is warm, his hair a golden halo, and Jack can barely breathe with how much he loves him, how much he wants him.

Bitty’s good at what he does, Jack has thought it and said it too many times to count, but it’s always something that overwhelms him in the moment. Every Time.

Jack winds his fingers in Bitty’s hair and moans when Bitty’s tongue drags up the side of his cock.

Bitty pops off long enough to say, “Everything alright up there, Mr. Zimmermann?” before diving back into giving Jack as much pleasure as possible. And really, with as often as Bitty calls him that, especially in non-sexy, chastising situations, Jack probably shouldn’t be so turned on by the formality of the nickname.

Jack knows he’s not going to last long, especially when Bitty swallows around him, everything Tight and Hot and More than Jack ever expected from the morning.

Then Bitty’s fingers graze along his perineum and Jack’s gone.

The light that bursts behind his eyelids is almost as bright as the sunlight streaming through their window.

***

“I’m sorry I pulled another note out without telling you,” Bitty says, flipping another pancake on their griddle. He’s still bathed in sunlight through their kitchen window, shirtless and sporting several hickeys. It’s distracting enough that it takes Jack a moment to realize what he’s said.

Jack puts his coffee down and squints at him.

“But you didn’t?” he says. “I did.”

Bitty looks over his shoulder long enough to make a face, but not long enough to let their pancakes burn. Bittle’s dedication is Legendary, both in the kitchen and other places Jack shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

“Sweetpea, what are you talking about?”

“The note—the sunlight. ‘Leave the blinds open,” Jack quotes, rubbing his thumb along the top of his mug.

Bitty laughs, light and airy and lovely in the morning glow. He finishes the pancake he’s making and then abandons the empty griddle, disappearing into their bedroom. He comes back with a slightly crumpled note in his hand, which he drops on the table in front of Jack.

‘Blowjob—like the beginning ones. Don’t think we don’t know about those, you lovey dovey fuckers’

Jack wordlessly pulls the note he’d taken from the box from beneath the stack of papers beside their landline (because Jack is old and likes having a landline, thank you very much) and sets it beside the other note.

Bitty’s eyes scan over the two and then he’s laughing, a full, sunny belly laugh that never fails to make Jack want to laugh along with him, for the sheer joy of being near him.

“Oh my goodness,” Bitty gasps, pressing his hand to his chest. “We are a pair, aren’t we?”

Jack shrugs, the leftover laughter leaving him warm and sated.

Everything’s glowing a bit in the sunlight, and Jack thinks this might be the happiest he’s ever felt.