Actions

Work Header

There, all of you a verb in perfect view

Work Text:

It’s ironic that Jack’s already naked when he pulls the note out of the box.

“Jack Zimmermann, you put that back right now,” Bitty says, arm thrown over his head, face flush. “If we do one more sex thing tonight my dick will fall off.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Jack rumbles lazily, rolling back over to press a kiss to Bitty’s sweaty temple. He’s got the note still clutched in his hand, though, and it stays there a bit longer when Bitty noses his way up Jack’s face, sliding them together in a slow drag of lips that makes Jack feel like the world’s fallen completely away.

He Lives for days both of them have off.

They’re a little more frequent now that corporate America doesn’t own Bitty’s soul anymore. As much as Jack is sure Bitty’s old job misses him, he knows Bitty sure as shit doesn’t miss them.

Besides, being offered his own online mini-series and a cookbook deal is a much better use of Bitty’s talents and time.

As is having marathon sex with Jack on their days off.

Life is Very Good in the Bittle-Zimmermann household.

The only thing that could make it better would be if Jack could finally put a goddamn ring on Bitty’s goddamn finger. Beyonce has been on a loop often enough that Jack knows he and Bitty fit the criteria for putting rings on things.

But somehow, whenever Jack feels like maybe he’s worked up the nerve, like maybe he’ll get the opportunity to propose, Bitty pulls him close and whispers words of love against his lips and then they’re naked and Jack can’t propose anymore.

Bitty, tiny blond genius that he is, is obviously seducing Jack to stop him from proposing.

And Jack would be mad, really he would, except having sex with Bitty is one of his favorite things. It’s better than hockey for God’s sake. Jack doesn’t ever want to say no.

So he doesn’t, and then he can’t propose. No Proposals While Naked Or In The Midst Of Sex. It’s a Personal Zimmermann Rule.

Bitty’s still lazily kissing him when Jack unfurls his hand and lets the note drop between them.

“Don’t lose that in the sheets,” Bitty mutters between kisses.

“I thought you didn’t want to see it?” Jack teases, nipping at Bitty’s bottom lip.

“That was before I remembered we can have sex tomorrow, too.”

Jack presses his lips over Bitty’s jaw, fighting the urge to leave a massive hickey just under his ear. Just because Bitty doesn't have to deal with stuffy office shit every day doesn’t mean he wants to pop into Trader Joe’s or work on his cookbook while covered in Jack’s bruises.

“We can have sex any day you want, bud,” Jack replies, and it takes him a moment to find the note when he can’t see it, but he does, trailing the paper, feather-light, over Bitty’s sternum.

“Not right now,” Bitty groans, but his hands tug Jack closer. “We’ll probably die. Waste away, leaving nothing but our messy sheets and excessive body fluids.”

“You make sex sound so appealing.”

Bitty laughs.

Jack gives up the fight and seals his lips over a section of Bitty’s throat, determined to leave the absolute Most Ridiculous hickey in the history of hickeys.

They do, in fact, have sex again.

Neither of them wastes away.

**

They’re both, by some miracle, still naked when Jack actually reads the note.

It’s crumpled, clearly been rolled over a few times, and the creases in the paper make Jack smile. He can’t hold up the crinkled mess to show Bitty, who had finished their last round with a declaration that he was going to take a Very Long Shower, but it still makes Jack grin. A solo laugh is still a good laugh.

How long can you two keep it together without clothes in the way?

PS: we made bets on this one, so please let us know

That just makes Jack laugh again.

“What’s so funny out there?” Bitty shouts, voice echoing off the tiles.

“Come here and find out!”

“It’s only been fifteen minutes. I need at least twice that be considered a long shower.”

Jack drops the note into the messy sheets and rolls out of their bed. He pads naked into the bathroom, where he can see Bitty’s outline through the warped shower door. He glances once, wistfully, at the tub, before climbing into the shower with Bitty.

Bitty doesn’t look surprised by his sudden appearance, so Jack figures his blanket invitation into all of Bitty’s showers is still Valid.

“We’ve talked about shower sex and how it’s not a good idea,” Bitty warns, eyes closed as he lathers shampoo in his hair.

Jack admires the lovely little bruises he left behind on Bitty’s body, a road map of where his mouth had strayed, where his fingertips had pressed just a hair too tight. “I just thought you could use some company. No use shouting at you from the bedroom if you’re going to be taking your time in this very long shower.”

“You are absolutely correct.” Bitty scoots closer without opening his eyes and Jack slides his hands into Bitty’s soapy hair, taking over for him. “Tell me what was so funny.”

“I read the note I pulled earlier.”

“Oh Lord, and it was still legible? I thought for sure we’d accidentally destroyed it.”

“We weren’t that rough. Or messy.”

“Jack Zimmermann, I had to wash your fluids out of my ear.”

“My fluids?”

“Hush.” Bitty’s flushed pink from the heat of the water, but Jack would recognize his blush anywhere. “What did this durable note say?”

“It’s a challenge.”

Bitty wipes his palm over his face and ducks his head beneath the spray, rinsing the shampoo off his face before he opens his eyes. There’s a glint there, something that makes Jack feel like he might win the shower sex argument this time.

“What kind of challenge?”

“Questioning our functionality when the other is naked.”

“Little to none.”

Jack laughs and gets a mouthful of water for his trouble.

“I can’t bake naked, Jack,” Bitty says, pouring some shampoo into his hands and reaching up to thread his fingers through Jack’s hair. “It’s unsanitary and unsafe. Not to mention filming. Good Lord, that’s not the kind of series I’m running.”

“You can write recipes naked,” Jack counters closing his eyes and tipping his head forward. “And edit. And I would watch any and all videos of you doing anything naked.”

He snakes his hands down Bitty’s wet sides until his palms are settled over his ass. They spend A Lot of time there, so it’s a very familiar feeling.

Bitty just keeps lathering his hair, scratching across Jack’s scalp with finesse, despite the way Jack’s shamelessly groping him.

“I will lose my new fancy job—and all my baking credibility—if we do that. But, I don’t have a filming day until Tuesday. You’ve got a game the next night, so—”

“So what you’re saying, is that after practice tomorrow, we have at least thirty-six hours of uninterrupted potential naked challenge time?”

“What would we even do for thirty-six hours naked?”

“Each other.”

Bitty sighs and his breath is warm against Jack’s skin, pebbling over with goosebumps. “I walked right into that one.”

“You did, bud.” Jack squeezes and Bitty hums.

“Really, though, is this a challenge to see if we can function normally while naked or to see if we can do casual nudity without immediately resorting to sex?”

“If it’s asking how long we can hold out, I don’t think we’ll last very long,” Jack says.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I definitely am.”

Bitty laughs and pushes Jack’s head under the showerhead.

They do, in fact, have sex in the shower.

Jack almost falls twice.

Bitty seems to feel rather vindicated by this.

**

Jack comes home from practice the next day and immediately strips off his shirt.

“Now that’s not fair,” Bitty says, standing in their kitchen doorway, eyeing Jack like he’s a forbidden snack. “You’re all,” Bitty gestures at all of him, and yeah, that’s a Good Feeling, “from practice. I am a man with simple needs, Jack.”

“I feel like I fulfill your simple needs pretty well.”

“So well,” Bitty says, gaze lingering on Jack’s abdomen. “The best.”

Jack 100% Definitely Preens at that.

Then Bitty turns around and disappears into the kitchen.

And Jack is still standing in their hallway, shirtless, more than a little turned on.

“Come back, bud,” Jack says, following after him, stepping into the kitchen just as a now shirtless Bitty tucks his thumbs into his pants and shimmies out of them.

And—

He’s not wearing underwear underneath, which is Definitely on Jack’s list of Surprising Things That Do It For Him, and yeah, okay, they’ve fucked in the kitchen before, they can do it again.

“Jack,” Bitty says, holding an arm out to prevent him from coming closer, smile soft but eyes sharp.

“Oh, yeah, right.” Jack also takes his pants and underwear off.

“No,” Bitty laughs, but he also looks Jack over appreciatively, and really, this is doing Wonders for Jack’s physical self-esteem. “Jack, the point is to function without clothes.”

“Does functionality have to mean no sex?”

“I think it means we see who caves first.” Bitty winks at Jack, bends over to pick up his discarded pants and—

“Bits,” Jack’s voice is strangled, he knows it is. “Bits, that’s cheating.”

Bitty looks over his shoulder at Jack but doesn’t stand, and Jack’s got a really, truly, Fantastic view of where the now familiar little vibrator is settled inside Bitty.

“I’m just using my advantages, Jack,” he says, before finally righting himself. “Also, when one of us finally cracks and shoves the other onto the nearest stable surface, I’d like to bypass the hurried and desperate prep.”

“Bits.” It’s not even really a word anymore, just a whine that escapes Jack’s throat.

Bitty grins, slow and sly, and by God, Jack Loves this man So Much.

“Challenge accepted?”

Jack groans and, for the first time, curses his competitive nature.

“Fine.”

Bitty brushes past him, and they’ve been pressed closer than possible, touched in every way, and yet this brush of skin, Bitty’s shoulder against Jack’s chest, feels way more intimate than it ever has before.

“Is this how Shitty feels all the time?” Bitty asks. “It’s a little freeing, I’ll give him that, but it feels like my ability to function decreases with each article of clothing I take off.”

“I dunno, bud,” Jack says, following Bitty into the living room, enjoying the view So Much. “I know not to ask questions anymore.”

“Hm. Maybe this note was just a way to force us to live like him.”

“There wasn’t any weed in the box.”

“Jack Zimmermann, you know Shitty would be more creative with where he hides weed in our apartment.”

And then Bitty sits down at his desk like he’s going to start editing his cookbook Absolutely Stark Naked.

That’s probably the funniest thing about this, Jack thinks, is that Bitty is really under the impression that the two of them are going to get anything done. That the two of them are going to be functional adults who do anything besides fuck each other stupid on a day where they’re intentionally naked.

Bitty shifts, like he’s forgotten the vibrator in his ass, now pressed against the towel-covered desk chair, and Jack has to laugh.

“Sweetpea, I’m working.” Bitty’s voice is solid, but it’s sprinkled with quiet laughter and pointed enunciation. He doesn’t even look over his shoulder at Jack.

So Jack shrugs and thinks a moment and decides he can do better than this.

The living room serves a lot of purposes. It’s an editing room for Bitty, who goes between that and the kitchen, his hands leaving flour dusting the edges of the pages, finding his patch of sunlight in the living room window like a cat. It’s a game room when the Samwell boys (and Lardo) come over, filled to the brim with laughter, raucous celebrations, and wayward ping pong balls. It’s a review space for Jack, to sit and watch tapes and plan for a future that’s just ice skates and hockey pucks.

And, at this moment, it’s a fantastic place for Jack to work out.

He doesn’t do anything extreme—jumping jacks without pants sound Dreadful—but he does drop down and do a dozen pushups, quiet and streamlined. It helps him focus, helps pull the buzz of arousal clinging to his muscles into a corner of his brain, where he can tuck away ideas of Bitty beneath him.

Another dozen pushups later, he risks a glance over his shoulder, over at where Bitty’s sitting at the desk, one heel propped up on the chair. He’s trying not to look over, Jack can tell, but there’s a lovely pink flush to Bitty’s skin that tells Jack everything he needs to know.

Jack switches to squats after that, keeping his back to Bitty. He tells himself it’s so Bitty can watch him, unencumbered by Jack’s returned stare, but it also gives Jack a chance to hide whatever his dick is doing.

He does a solid rep, then another, until his thighs are starting to burn, then he turns around to look at Bitty.

Bitty’s openly and appreciatively staring at this point, fingers curled around the edge of his chair, eyes dark. His gaze flicks up Jack’s chest when Jack turns around, and he doesn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“Bud,” Jack says, trying so hard to be serious. “I’m working.”

“By all means,” Bitty replies, waving a hand in Jack’s direction, gaze dropping lower, “continue.”

So Jack does. He sits down and tucks his hands behind his head. He spreads his legs a little more than he normally would, so that the view of Bitty in his chair sits nicely between them, and starts counting sit-ups.

“Did you want me to come hold your feet for you?” Bitty offers, cheek resting against his hand now. He’s curled up like one of those paintings where soft renaissance women in lacy clothes are settled in cushioned beds and fields of flowers. His angles are soft, smoothed over by the absence of clothes, the absence of anything between them.

“Do I get a kiss for every sit-up I complete?” Jack asks, pausing briefly to flex. He knows his strengths.

Bitty drapes himself over the chair, stretching his arms and pulling all of the moisture out of Jack’s mouth.

“Is that all you’d want?” Bitty asks, and now Jack can see his dick, and while it’s not hard it’s definitely showing some Interest. Jack can Relate.

Jack’s not sure what to say without damning himself, and then his traitorous mouth opens anyway.

“If you wanted to kiss me somewhere else, I wouldn’t be upset about it.”

Bitty laughs and his hand finds its way to his chest, pressed there like a delightfully scandalized southern belle.

“Sweetpea, I can’t help but think that would encourage some truly terrible locker room behavior.” He stands, and there’s so much skin on display. The sunlight coming through the window reaches out to touch, and Jack is thrown back to early mornings in the sun, to hours lost and gained in white sheets and sun-splashed skin.

“I already have weird reactions to stick tape and game DVDs,” Jack replies. “What’s another inappropriate response in the grand scheme of things?”

Bitty hums but walks closer, settling himself on the floor in front of Jack. His fingers circle Jack’s ankles, and he looks at him expectantly.

Jack huffs a laugh but immediately leans back until he’s on the floor again, before rolling himself back up.

Bitty leans over Jack’s knees and meets him there, lips warm and soft and yielding.

Jack hums and pulls away, does another sit up.

Bitty’s kiss hits a little wide this time, brushing across Jack’s jaw.

The next lands closer to his neck.

The one after doesn’t come, because Bitty’s crawling between Jack’s legs and settling over his chest, filling the space between Jack’s abs and his knees like it’s where he was always meant to be.

Jack drops his hands from his head and, like a homing beacon, they immediately find Bitty’s ass. Jack can feel where the vibrator sits and fingers along the edge, playing with where the plastic meets Bitty’s skin.

“Is this you surrendering?” Bitty breaths against his skin.

“I seduced you into this position,” Jack says, tapping the plastic once so that Bitty shivers under his hands, burying his face against Jack’s neck.

“You lured me into a trap. This is perjury. Call Shitty, I need a lawyer.”

Jack tightens his grip on Bitty, watching the way his fingers dig into his soft skin. “I don’t think we need to get the law involved, or at least not Shitty. He’s already overly involved as it is.”

“Admit I won then,” Bitty says, licking up Jack’s neck.

“Why? I’m obviously the victor here.”

“Obviously is a strong word, captain.” Bitty bites Jack’s earlobe.

Jack slides his thumb around the vibrator and starts to wiggle between it and Bitty’s rim. Bitty shudders against him again, and Jack can feel their hearts racing in tandem.

“A strong word for a strong victory.” Jack presses his palm to the small of Bitty’s back, where it spans all the way across. It’s addicting, the feel of Bitty’s skin beneath him, the curve of his hip, the slant of his smile. He wants to feel it always, this press of skin, this close-knit intimacy.

But he also Very Desperately wants Bitty to have a Truly Mind-Blowing Orgasm, so... Priorities.

Jack taps the vibrator again, and raises his knees, trapping Bitty against him. Bitty slides his arms around Jack’s shoulders and grinds his hips down, thighs bracketing Jack’s sides. They’re two puzzle pieces fit together, a jigsaw Jack never wants to finish.

He keeps tapping, then winds his fingers around the vibrator and barely slides it out before pressing the plastic back in.

Bitty, panting against his neck, nails digging into Jack’s shoulder, whines. He’s hard, his dick pressed between them, beside Jack’s, and while it’s a Real Good Feeling for Jack, it looks like he’s a little too distracted by the push and pull of silicone to do more than roll his hips absently.

“Jack, c’mon.”

“Not until you admit I won.”

Bitty rolls his eyes, then they flutter back when Jack gives another merciless tug. “We’re dysfunctional gay messes, just fuck me already.”

It’s not a concession, but it’s close enough, and Jack’s dick is trapped between them without nearly enough friction. So for the sake of their naked bodies and their relationship, Jack picks the high road and wiggles the vibrator out of Bitty’s ass.

It slides out easier than he expects, and Jack takes a moment to marvel at the slick and easy glide, before sliding it back in. He repeats the gesture faster, and Bitty bites Jack’s shoulder. It muffles the sound he makes, but Jack still hears it, louder than his own pounding heart.

Bitty rolls his hips again, downward, urging Jack on with friction, and Jack really doesn’t need much convincing.

He pops the vibrator out all the way and abandons it on the floor, twisting his fingers inside Bitty instead.

Everything is slick and warm and already stretched, but Jack scissors two fingers regardless, relishing the feeling of Bitty around him. Jack thinks one day he’ll just sit and finger Bitty through several orgasms. Whether they’re his own or Bitty’s, Jack figures, can be determined at a later date.

Right now, though, Bitty’s grinding against him and his dick is sliding against Jack’s, and it’s a little rough with nothing to soothe the dry friction, but it still feels Good. Jack knows what will feel Better, though.

It doesn’t take much to push Bitty up a bit and slide a hand down to wrap around Jack’s cock. From there it’s a blind line up and a slide home, one that has Bitty gasping against Jack’s throat.

“You good, bud?” Jack breathes, hands settling—where else—on Bitty’s ass, palms feeling his body tremble as Jack rocks in and out in slow, shallow thrusts.

“Great,” Bitty says, gripping Jack’s shoulders and rocking backwards, thighs clenched on either side of Jack’s hips. “But it’d be better if you moved.”

“You can take the wheel, bud,” Jack offers, keeping his hands where they are, not controlling, not guiding, just there, holding Bitty closer.

“I have always thought I was the better driver,” Bitty says, before clenching around Jack and throwing himself into fucking with such a vigor that Jack is actually left bereft of breath.

He has to take a deep, shuddering breath to try and keep pace with the way Bitty’s bouncing up and down, thighs working hard, hands keeping Jack close. It’s aggressive and desperate and so, so hot, that Jack knows he won’t even attempt to change the course. Bitty’s definitely at the wheel now, and Jack just loves that he’s along for the ride.

He wants to laugh, make a joke about how he’s tall enough to ride this ride, but he’s too busy trying to breathe, trying not to come just yet. He needs Bitty to cross the finish line first, to use him until he’s done, before Jack can let himself take.

Luckily, Bitty doesn’t seem to be wasting any time, chasing his orgasm with selfish intent, because he Knows Jack, Knows that giving Bitty pleasure is monumental in finding Jack’s pleasure too.

With Bitty’s frenzied pace, it’s not long before he’s shuddering and spilling between them. It’s messy and makes everything even more slick, but Jack doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Bitty’s waist, holding him as close as he possibly can, and thrusts his hips up a few more times before the sunlight in their living room is bursting behind his eyelids.

He presses his face to Bitty’s neck and breathes, still rolling with the aftershocks. Bitty’s arms are tight around him too, both of them clutching at each other as though the press of one another is all they’ll ever need.

They’re an island, green and sunny and entwined. A Garden of Eden where their carnal worship is its own kind of heaven.

It was smart of Shitty to get them naked, because not being able to carry a ring on his person is the only reason Jack doesn’t propose to Bitty on their carpet, naked and unafraid.

He knows Bitty doesn’t have anywhere to hide a ring either, so Jack lets himself sink into the floor and the feeling of Bitty draped over him.

“We need to stop fucking on the floor,” Bitty mumbles into his neck. “Your knees aren’t going to hold up on the ice if we make a mess of them with our extracurriculars.”

“We’re not going to fuck up my knees fucking.”

“Say that five times fast.”

Jack laughs and rolls them over, so he’s got Bitty pinned beneath him.

Bitty grumbles about it but looks up at Jack with warm eyes. Jack can’t resist leaning in and pressing soft kisses to his flushed skin, just a chaste press of lips compared to their earlier heat.

“Hey,” Bitty says, nudging Jack’s side.

Jack pulls back a bit and hums.

Bitty looks up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. There’s a spot of come on his chin, and Jack doesn’t know who it belongs to, but it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Bitty’s gaze is clear, his mouth a slanted smile as he looks up at Jack, the face of love.

“I love you.”

The sunlight coming through their window can’t quite reach them, but it fills the room with a living glow.

Bitty is Jack’s literal light at the end of the tunnel, and his heart feels so full that he almost can’t say anything at all.

Then it all spills out of him with a breathless push, the easiest thing in the world.

“I love you too.”

Bitty smiles, soft and small, Jack’s heart curled beneath him.