‘Reclaim the closet ;)’
“Was the winky face really necessary?” Bitty wrinkles his nose, but Jack can see him smiling from all the way across the room.
“I dunno, I think it adds something.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Jack Zimmermann?”
Jack rolls his eyes and crosses the room just to wrap Bitty in his arms and spin him around. “You’re the one always telling me to use more emojis,” he says into his hair. It’s Ridiculous and Soft and Jack loves that he’s allowed to have moments like these, just the two of them being dumb in their kitchen.
Bitty, laughing and ruffled, slaps lightly at Jack’s shoulder until he gets released. He pushes up on his toes and kisses Jack, light and a little too smiley to be much more than a quick press of lips.
Jack chases the feeling and cages Bitty between him and the table.
“It’s suggestive,” Bitty says, and it takes Jack a moment to remember that they were having a conversation. A conversation in their kitchen, because the sex box migrated there a week ago, which Jack is convinced happened because Bitty likes to plot while he bakes. Jack Does Not Mind that at all, although it does make it a little hard for him to do his own plotting.
“It’s a sex box,” Jack points out, forcing his brain to jump back on track with the whole Talking thing. “The whole thing is suggestive.”
“What does it mean, though?” Bitty gives in and kisses Jack again, then ducks under his arm to snag the note off the table. “Reclaim the closet? Is this a gay thing?”
“As half of your gay thing, I was hoping you’d know.”
Bitty hums and glances around the room, probably appraising their pantry (Jack supposes the pantry is kind of like a closet for the kitchen, but he’s not sure it technically counts). Then he turns and wanders into the living room, note still in hand.
Jack follows, because his Plan for the day includes 1) working out, 2) having enthusiastic, consensual sex with Bittle, and 3) maybe watching a documentary. He’s already worked out, so it’s really down to which of the other things happens first. Jack hopes it’s in numerical order, but he’s willing to be flexible. Ha. Pun hopefully accepted.
Bitty continues surveying the rooms in their house, most of which contain a closet of some sort. And isn’t that something that just surprises Jack. He supposes he doesn’t think about closets very often, then decides that Shitty and Lardo spend too much time in this apartment if the two of them can compose sex acts around its features.
Their hall closet seems like a Winner in Jack’s mind, but that might just be because the cowboy hat resides there whenever Tater isn’t around. It’d be a tight squeeze, but they could manage, especially if they left the door open.
Almost as if he can’t read Jack’s mind, Bitty passes the hall closet without a glance, and Jack follows, casting a mournful look at the wooden door.
“Reclaim the closet,” Bitty mutters, before finally returning to the living room and dropping down onto the couch. “Was the closet ever not a gay space? I mean, we both spent quite a bit of time in there.”
Jack huffs a gentle laugh and crawls over the side of the couch so that he can settle between Bitty’s legs, head on Bitty’s sternum. Bitty’s hands come up to tangle in his hair, and Jack thinks maybe he’ll adjust his plans to include being lazy on the couch with Bittle.
“We’ve already decided Shitty isn’t a poet.”
“Yeah, but Lardo kind of is, and it’s her note.” Bitty drags one hand away from Jack’s head to show him the note again, and yeah, okay, that’s Lardo’s handwriting.
“I have a theory,” Jack says. “And it’s that we’re just supposed to have sex in a closet. Probably any closet. And since the note came from a sex box designed by two ridiculous people who think we should spruce up our sex life with paint and hats, it’s a safe bet.”
“It’s not about the sex act, Jack.” Bitty’s leg curls around Jack’s hip, the weight of him solid and warm. “It’s about why Lardo used the word reclaim.”
“You could call and ask her.”
“That’s against the rules,” Bitty says, hands moving through Jack’s hair at a steady, calming pace. “Unless there are props, we gotta figure it out.”
“I call Shitty for almost every note.”
“Jack, you can’t reward them for nosy behavior.”
“I think we’re past nosy with them, Bits.”
Bitty nudges him with his knee but keeps rubbing Jack’s head. “No calling this time. This is a puzzle I want to solve.”
“Okay.” Jack slides the hand not currently smooshed against the couch up the side of Bitty’s shirt and settles it against his warm skin. “Can we put on a documentary while you do your solving?”
Bitty knocks his knee against Jack’s side, but a moment later turns on the TV.
Jack blinks awake, confused because a nap wasn’t part of his Plan? What’s Happening?
Bitty prods his shoulder again. “Jack, are you awake now?”
“Okay, good, I think I cracked the closet code.”
“That’s gotta be a gay euphemism.” His words are slurred against Bitty’s chest, but they come out clear enough.
“Jack Zimmermann, do you want to have sex today or not?”
Jack groans but raises his head to look at Bitty, because he had a semblance of a Plan, even if just laying on the couch with Bitty rubbing his head sounds just as appealing as sex at the moment.
“So, this has two parts.” Bitty holds up two fingers. “One, the obvious coming out of the closet reference, reclaiming a space formerly seen as a place to hide by defiling it with how gay we are.”
“We’re pretty gay,” Jack agrees.
“And two, remember how I told you in middle school those bullies locked me in a utility closet overnight?”
Bitty won’t meet his eyes when he says it, gaze squarely on the couch cushions, and Jack Knows he’s trying to play off how terrible of a memory it really is. Bitty still doesn’t like tight, dark spaces, and it pains Jack to know that Bitty’s still hurting a little bit from that, that he might hurt forever.
Jack tightens his hold on Bitty a little bit. “Yeah.”
“Well, I think this is Lardo’s way of helping me replace that with a better memory? Like, I’m reclaiming the closet as a space where I feel safe and loved.”
Jack drops his head so he can squish his face into the soft material of Bitty’s hoodie.
“I love you,” he says into the material, but he knows Bitty can hear him.
“I love you too, sweetpea. Now help me pick which closet to canoodle in.”
They do end up at the hall closet after all, both because it has the most room to maneuver and because Jack voted all the other closets off the island until this one was the only one standing.
“We can’t ever let anyone into this closet after this,” Bitty says, shaking his head but already tugging Jack into the closet. They leave the door open, so it’s well lit and less hazardous (and so Bitty can breathe, because Jack is not about his boyfriend having a panic attack during sex, thanks).
“Bits, how many people come in this closet?”
“You mean, besides you and me?” Bitty wiggles his eyebrows and Jack purposefully knocks the broom over on him.
Bitty laughs and brushes the broom aside, sliding into Jack’s space like he belongs there (and he Does, he Really Does, Jack wants him there all the time). “Really, though, Holster hangs his coat in here every time he comes over. Chowder took a phone call in here once. It’s a high foot traffic area in our apartment.”
“We’ve literally had sex in every room in this apartment, Bits,” Jack says, ducking his head down to press his lips to the space just under Bitty’s right ear. “What’s one more tally on the board?”
Bitty shivers and presses against Jack until his back is against the far wall. Jack lets him, because this is Bitty’s moment to reclaim and Jack’s just happy to be a part of it.
“What do you want, Bits?”
Bitty fists the front of Jack’s shirt, tugging it up until Jack pulls it off. Bitty looks at Jack’s chest, then up at his face.
“I’m gonna blow you in this closet and then decide from there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” And it’s a Better Plan than Jack had, the Best Plan, in fact, and Jack briefly considers letting Bitty decide how they spend every day.
Bitty reaches up into the wall shelves off to Jack’s left and tugs out the thicker coats Bitty hides away for when he gets really cold, dropping them at Jack’s feet. Jack helps kick them into a somewhat coherent nest. A Blowjob Nest. Jack is inordinately pleased.
Bitty presses a wet kiss to Jack’s sternum, bites cheekily at his pectoral, then drops to his knees, settling on the coats like he’s planning on staying down there for a long time. He looks up at Jack through his eyelashes, and most of the time Jack thinks that Bitty doesn’t know how Truly Beautiful, how Mind-Blowingly Hot he is, but right now, in their hall closet, there’s no way Bitty doesn’t know.
Bitty breathes warmly across the front of Jack’s shorts, and Jack’s dick, which only just started to join the party a moment ago, feels tight in his shorts.
“Do you remember,” Bitty says, settling his palm over the bulge in Jack’s shorts, which are doing nothing to disguise how increasingly turned on he is. “Way back when we drew the noise complaint out of the box?”
Jack swallows. “I remember.”
“And do you remember,” Bitty presses his thumb up the length of Jack’s cock and Jack bites his lip, “how determined you were to get me to make noise?”
“Yeah.” His voice is shakier than Jack would have expected, but Bitty’s mouthing at his cock through some very thin fabric, so he figures it’s understandable.
“I think I’d like to try my hand at that.” Bitty’s fingers ghost along the waistband of Jack’s shorts, dipping under and thumbing at his skin.
“I’m not nearly as loud as you, bud,” Jack says, then immediately groans when Bitty tugs his shorts down, releasing his cock to the cold air of the apartment, offset by Bitty’s warm breath near the base.
Bitty grins up at him smugly. “You were saying?”
Jack shakes his head and shivers when Bitty licks across the tip of his cock.
“Your mouth is ridiculous,” Jack says, and it’s wet and warm and pink and takes Jack so beautifully. “It’s full of ridiculous things.”
“Ridiculous things?” Bitty laves at the head and then dips down further, taking Jack between those lovely pink lips.
Jack gasps, thighs already shaking. “Like the idea that I could possibly be louder than you.”
Bitty, whose mouth is really just filled with Jack’s dick, hums and hollows out his cheeks, and really, if Jack didn’t whimper there’d be something wrong with him. That doesn’t count as being loud, it counts as being impressed by his boyfriend’s many skills.
Jack tries his damnedest not to let too many noises out, but Bitty’s blow job skills seem to increase with every act, so Jack can’t be blamed for how shaky his voice gets, how reedy and obstreperous his moans are.
“Bits,” he whines, when Bitty’s hands join the action, one wrapped around the base of Jack’s cock, the other brushing teasingly along his balls.
“Bud,” he groans, when Bitty teases his tongue into the slit, pulling off long enough to tease and stroke and please before plunging back down.
“Bitty,” he moans, looking down at Bitty’s golden head, lips stretched around Jack, cheeks flushed, his eyes a blown slit of determination and pleasure, his enthusiasm matching his skill. Because Bitty really is Good at blowjobs. It’s something Jack tries not to think about very often because otherwise, he’d be in a Constant State of Horniness. But it’s impossible not to think about now, with Bitty’s lips stretched around him, humming as though blowing Jack in their closet is the highlight of his week. It’s Definitely the highlight of Jack’s.
In fact, it’s so good that when Bitty takes him deep into his throat, blinking up at him with his doe eyes, Jack lets loose a truly monstrous groan, raspy and louder than he usually lets himself be, and falls apart, shaking his way through his orgasm, clutching at the shelves around him to try and stay upright.
Bitty works him through it, swallowing everything Jack gives him, working him with his hand until Jack’s too sensitive to continue. Then he pulls off with a truly Obscene Pop and smiles up at Jack, like he didn’t just perform a blowjob worthy of a standing ovation.
Or maybe a sitting ovation, Jack thinks, as his legs give out and he slides to the floor to rest among the coats, panting like he’s just finished a run.
“You’re unbelievably good at that,” Jack gasps.
“At what, making you scream?”
“I’d hardly call that screaming,” Jack says, but he feels his face heat.
Bitty smiles, smug and Very Pleased with himself, and leans in to kiss Jack, who can taste himself on Bitty’s tongue. It’s Hot, and Jack decides he would very much like to put more of Bitty in his mouth.
He sucks on Bitty’s tongue first though, and lets Bitty start a slow grind against his hip, nothing frantic yet. He settles his hands on Bitty’s hips and pulls their bodies flush together and just luxuriates in the closeness. And when their kissing starts to get a little less coordinated, a little more wet, Jack pulls back.
“You should fuck my mouth.”
Bitty blinks, then drops his head onto Jack’s shoulder, groaning loudly.
Jack preens a bit, because he was louder than usual, but nowhere near Bitty levels of noise. And he hasn’t even really gotten started yet.
“I’m gonna ruin these shorts if you keep talking like that,” Bitty mumbles.
Jack laughs. “Another time perhaps. I was serious about the facefucking, though. I know we’d both enjoy it.”
“Jack Zimmermann, please control yourself, I don’t have an orgasm under my belt yet and your words are a lot.”
Jack turns so that his breath brushes Bitty’s ear when he speaks, and Bitty shivers. “Then let me provide that orgasm.”
It takes him a few moments, but eventually Bitty stands, stepping closer when Jack wraps his hands around his thighs, until his shorts-covered cock is settled right in front of Jack’s face.
“You sure?” Bitty asks, palms braced against the wall, hips already twitching minutely.
Jack caresses the back of Bitty’s thighs, dipping his fingers up under the leg holes, appreciating the soft curve of skin and the way Bitty trembles under his touch.
“More than.” Jack presses a kiss to Bitty’s hip. “Let’s reclaim this closet.”
Bitty’s far enough along that Jack doesn’t bother taking his time, just settles against the wall and tugs Bitty’s shorts so the elastic sits just under his balls, displaying everything beautifully without losing the teasing way the shorts fall on Bitty’s thighs.
Jack parts his lips and eases Bitty into him, taking his time to enjoy the weight and feel of him, to cover Bitty’s cock with saliva until it glides easily into Jack’s mouth.
Bitty, who was so careful not to move until that point, with his eyes screwed shut and his hands fisted, breaks when Jack brushes his thumb even deeper under his shorts.
“Jack!” His eyes fly open and he thrusts forward, unintentionally at first, then with purpose into Jack’s willing mouth. “Jack, oh, Jack!”
Jack blinks up at him, pleased to just provide, and Bitty’s eyelids flutter. He picks up the pace when Jack’s fingers continue trekking upward, finding their way to Bitty’s hole. Circling him dry is enough to get Bitty’s hips pumping even faster, and Jack keeps up a lazy, gentle press as Bitty fucks into his mouth.
It doesn’t take long until the wet suction of Jack’s mouth pushes Bitty over the edge, has him gasping and pleading through an orgasm that Jack willingly sucks down.
Then it’s just Bitty shaking in their closet, Jack in front of him, hands keeping Bitty from collapsing down onto him.
“I think,” Jack breathes against his hip, and Bitty shivers again, dropping his hands to rest in Jack’s hair, “you lost the noise competition again, bud.”
“Shut your beautiful face, Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty gasps, forehead against the wall, fingers tightening in Jack’s hair. “One hundred and ten percent, I swear.”
“I think the closet has been sufficiently reclaimed,” Jack says, and he’s sure he’s grinning like a loon, but so is Bitty above him, so Jack doesn’t really mind.