September 13th, 2017, 23:52
One of these days, he was going to fucking hide Aiden’s drugs and never tell him about it. All the bottles of stimulants, the amphetamines, the fucking caffeine pills—why the fuck did he have caffeine pills? He already drank coffee like it was a magic tonic that would solve all his problems. Like hell did he need to stack more caffeine on top of that.
Dipshit. Idiot. He’d gotten in this morning at ass o’clock, Aiden meeting him at the SFO baggage claim with more bags under his eyes, still adamant that he could drive even while Jordi was eyeing the slight hesitation in his reaction times. The couple of extra seconds it took for him to get familiar in the car. The way he’d almost missed the carry-on Jordi chucked at him as a test.
If he hadn’t been coming off a red-eye himself, Jordi would have insisted on driving them to the hotel, but it wasn’t like he trusted his own reaction times either. Based on the duffel bag slung over Aiden’s shoulder, he could only assume that his idiot of a boyfriend hadn’t bothered to book his own room while waiting for Jordi to get in. His boyfriend. He was fucking attached to this man. Willingly.
The last three weeks in Shenzhen had just highlighted how strong that attachment was, too. Frankly, Jordi was appalled by the fact that he’d been tricked into monogamy. By himself.
And for what? This? Aiden, not quite at the point of delirium yet—or so he claimed, Jordi had his fucking doubts—insisting that he was fine without sleeping, that he could handle this… whatever he had going on tomorrow without sleeping, that Jordi should just hash out the Auntie Shu thing with him at eight minutes to midnight, like Jordi didn’t have sleeping to do too.
Yeah, no. Not happening.
“How much speed are you on right now?” he asked irritably as he hung up his suit for work tomorrow.
“I’m not—” Aiden drew back, eyebrows coming down sharply and highlighting how deep and black the bruises below his eyes were. “I haven’t taken anything today. I just can’t sleep, that’s all.”
So that was a fucking lie. Jordi couldn’t call him on it though, not when he didn’t know for certain where Aiden had his pills stashed at this point. But even ‘simple’ insomnia had taken Aiden’s typical speech patterns and smeared them, a loopy, inconsistent quality to the way his deep voice wove.
With an irritated huff, Jordi snapped the closet door shut. “You’ve taken nothing today.”
“Not a damn thing,” Aiden said, voice rough with sleeplessness or anger or both. Goody for him. Jordi was angrier.
Turning on his heel, he stalked over to Aiden, shoving his fingers into the mess of brown locks, pressing their foreheads together. A sharp roll of tension tightened Aiden’s body a couple seconds too late, preparing him for a fight he would have lost anyways.
It pissed Jordi off. It worried him, which pissed him off even more. This city was just designed to push all his buttons in all the wrong ways.
“Aiden?” he asked, waiting for those vivid green eyes to properly focus on him instead of whatever hazy thought they’d been chasing. “Take your fucking sleeping pills before I shove them down your throat myself.”
The choked off laugh wasn’t what he expected in response, but that was an admission of defeat in its own right. Aiden blinked, then blinked again, exhaustion written into every inch of his face, and finally said, “I can do that. I’m running low, though.”
“It’s San Francisco. I’m sure you’ll find another dealer somewhere while we’re here.” Jordi pulled away, popped his neck as he went to flop on the bed himself. The itchy irritation sitting under his skin didn’t want to fade, not helped by the way his internal clock kept insisting it was lunch time. Fuck, he hated international contracts.
No, that was a lie. He loved the money they brought, and he chameleoned shockingly well outside of America. The jobs were fun, the people he got to kill lived in charmingly designed safe houses, there weren’t any attachments keeping him bound down… He liked international jobs. He hated international time zones. That was the real bitch right there. It always took him a couple days to adjust, and he wasn’t getting any younger—running on empty made him crabby.
Aiden hit the bed with a boneless thump beside him, naked now. It didn’t take long for him to go from facedown in the pillows to on his back, head tipped to catch Jordi’s gaze. Most of the time, Jordi didn’t get to see him like this, but apparently there was a first time for everything.
“Four days,” Aiden said, without any preamble.
“You’re a fucking disaster,” Jordi informed him, stretching his spine out and folding his arms behind his head.
“Mm. Didn’t want to miss picking you up from your flight.” His voice was dipping again, wavering as he relaxed, his fingers just barely brushing against Jordi’s side. Now that he’d taken the reins, Aiden was letting the exhaustion back into his voice.
Like he’d been waiting for Jordi to give him the order from the moment he landed. Dipshit. The little thread of affection trying to weave its way into the irritation still prickling over his nerves made Jordi grunt. “As if you’re worth a damn on this little sleep. Come on, Aiden.”
“Well, my usual sleep aid wasn’t around, so…” Aiden tried to smile, something small and wry that pulled his lips to one side. The thread of affection thickened into a rope wrapped around his heart, absolutely disgusting with how much Jordi was enjoying it.
“You’d be out like a light within minutes of me getting my dick into you,” Jordi said, reaching over to flick Aiden’s hip. “Not my idea of an exciting sex life, you know.”
“Well I wouldn’t mind.” The words were half mumbled, Aiden’s eyes finally sliding shut.
Jordi watched as Aiden’s breathing evened out, chest rising and falling easily. Neither of them had bothered to get under the covers, which was dumb; he hadn’t been thinking about sleeping with the bubbling irritation in his gut, and Aiden clearly hadn’t been thinking at all. It meant he got to watch as Aiden’s muscles went slack, the table lamp spilling soft light over the curve of his hip, his thigh, molding over his shoulder and catching the edge of his jaw.
It’s not even like Aiden was exceptionally handsome, that was the pisser. If Jordi was going to be attached to someone, he’d always vaguely considered one of the beautiful, dangerous, sly fixers he worked with. That was always what he’d told his therapist when they tossed around the hypothetical—that he’d need someone who could match him, tit for tat, in skill and ability and good looks.
“And, let’s be real here,” Jordi had always said, smug as a defense against vulnerability when they got too close to the shit he hated saying out loud, “no one is gonna be equal to me in all that.”
Well, he’d been right. He’d just also, apparently, decided that sheer, cussed inability to die was a stronger factor than looks.
His therapist had been gently circling the edges of their relationship, careful questions about the give and take, about the other half, about how Jordi felt about it all. He’d been crude initially, vulgar in the particular way that only Jordi Chin could manage, and—well, he wasn’t ever going to admit to catching feelings, but some of that had leaked out. Apparently. Two glitter bombs weren’t quite the deterrent he’d expected them to be. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was going soft in his old age.
The scars from the wreck wrapped around Aiden’s ribs like a hand, trailing down from his armpit to his hip. After five years, the color was finally starting to match up to Aiden’s skin tone again, but the rugged texture remained. There were matching, fainter ones on his left arm, but the glass hadn’t gone as deep—or stayed in as long, if Jordi had the right of it. Those got lost in nicks and reminders from knife fights and stupid enforcement jobs anyways. Every fixer had fucked up arms and hands eventually. Came with the territory. Even the crater the bullet had left a year ago was mostly faded now, just joining the overall noise left marked on his body.
Jordi’s fingers itched to trace the manic crosshatch of pain etched into Aiden’s side. The lasting nerve damage made it a great spot to hit whenever he wanted to inflict pain, one of his favorites for forcing Aiden to feel when he might otherwise be too busy drowning in his own head.
“God damn it,” he said out loud.
Aiden didn’t even twitch. His brow was slightly furrowed, fingers curled against the fabric of the bed, body not quite curved towards Jordi even though he’d fallen asleep on his back. The dark stubble that always lingered on his cheeks had grown into the patchy start of a beard and his hair was messy and sticking out every which way. Probably hadn’t showered after arriving, if he’d even bothered staying in one place long enough for it.
His palm smoothed over the muscle of Aiden’s thigh, edging up towards the scars on his hip. Aiden still didn’t move, his chest rising and falling with the same easy rhythm, the bruises under his closed eyes dark and heavy.
He was out, completely, and Jordi was still on Beijing time.
Cataloguing the scars and the swells of muscle had been a mistake. His fingers still itched to dig in and hurt, and all that contemplation about Aiden’s body had only served to make Jordi more interested in it. The meandering trail of his hand slid down, curling around the meat of Aiden’s ass, his knuckles pressing into the fabric of the covers. Jordi squeezed, and Aiden let out a soft exhale and nothing more.
Somehow, he’d landed at six in the morning, and between then and now, neither of them had gotten naked before he’d practically shoved Aiden into bed. Somehow, Jordi had tricked himself into almost a month without any sex at all, other than a few raunchy but ultimately unsatisfying video calls on his client’s wifi. Somehow, he’d entirely forgotten about his libido up until this moment.
“You’re out like a light, aren’t you,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t get an answer. Jordi pursed his lips, shifting so that he was hovering over Aiden, hands dragging back up his chest. With a small twitch, Aiden readjusted, but his face didn’t lose that slightly pinched frown he wore in his sleep, and his muscles didn’t tense in anticipation of an attack.
There was a hell of a lot of trust buried in that fact. Jordi wasn’t sure he’d be able to tolerate getting touched like this in his sleep, and he knew that Aiden wouldn’t have a few months ago. Both of them were twitchy, trauma-ridden bastards and yet, here he was. Draped across Jordi’s bed. Completely unbothered by the hands curled over his ribs, Jordi’s weight resting against his thigh.
Well, now he was at a fucking crossroads, wasn’t he? Jordi hummed, tracing the line of muscles down Aiden’s stomach, all the places Aiden’s goddamn awful eating habits should show but didn't. It was a little offensive, actually—if Jordi so much as looked as a Quinkies, it’d be wrapped around his waist for a week. And here Aiden was, subsisting on fast food and alcohol when Jordi wasn’t around to bully him into eating better, and he still had a spare waist and solid muscle to show for it, the barest layer of fat cushioning everything underneath.
He smacked Aiden’s hip, just hard enough to sting his fingertips. Below him, Aiden grunted, turned his head to bury it in the pillow, hair sticking up in every direction. Didn’t wake up.
No one had ever called him a good person. Jordi would hate to get a reputation for decency now, after years of working as a murderer for hire. Which served him well, because as much as he liked the way Aiden fought him every step of the way during sex, having him limp and pliant was awakening things in him he’d never considered before. Maybe because he’d never had Aiden this vulnerable and relaxed before.
Not unless Jordi had spent an hour getting him to that point, at least. Aiden fell to pieces beautifully every time Jordi wanted to play with him, but even that was an act of taming him. They didn’t have tender, adoring sex—he’d probably hate it if Aiden even tried, because that fire was half the reason he’d chased the dumb motherfucker down in the first place.
It had an appeal, though.
“If you don’t wake up and stop me, I’m going to do all kinds of shit to you.” Jordi tipped in close, murmured the words just past Aiden’s ear, his hands already moving to rearrange Aiden’s body. The low, soothing tones got no response. “I mean it, Aiden. You already gave me the go ahead, I’m just saying.”
A soft sigh, slightly harder exhale, Aiden’s fingers curling slightly when Jordi moved his arms up to loosely bracket his head. With a nudge to one thigh, Aiden’s legs parted and made enough room for Jordi to settle between them. The pinched frown was softer now, only the slight furrowing of Aiden’s brow remaining. Jordi couldn’t tell if it was because he was waking up or if it was just from being touched while he slept—he never got to see Aiden deeply asleep, not without the looming early hours of morning already there to wake him.
“You’ve got me fucking whipped, you know that?” His lips dragged over the skin of Aiden’s neck, Aiden’s beard scraping the skin of his cheek. It was safer to admit it like this, when Aiden was out like a light and couldn’t respond, couldn’t feed that terrible, hungry thing in his heart that kept growing anyways. “Just head over heels for you. Stupidest man alive, and you’re the one I picked. You lucky son of a bitch.”
Beneath him, Aiden made a soft sound, shifting a little. Jordi froze, rock hard and pressed into the heat of Aiden’s skin, the crease between Aiden’s thigh and groin perfect for him to grind against. For a few, breathless seconds he waited, listening for any change in Aiden’s breathing.
It evened out, deepened again. With a soft sigh of his own, Jordi pressed closer, a hand on Aiden’s leg to keep him there as he rocked his hips. Probably should be embarrassed by frotting against his boyfriend in his sleep, but at least he wasn’t jacking off on him instead. At this point, those were the only two options Jordi was letting himself consider.
Even if Aiden, out cold like this, would be so easy and relaxed if he wanted to—
If this were a soap opera, he’d be the bad guy. Wait, scratch that. If this were any piece of media, he’d be the bad guy. But here he was, getting his bright-eyed love interest into bed and… No, Aiden would be the bad guy too, come to think of it.
Jordi huffed out a laugh, his mouth pressed to the slow pulse at Aiden’s throat. Every bad boy hallmark wrapped up in a disaster of a man, down to the rough brown beard and the heavy bags under his eyes. His body was supple, easy under Jordi’s hands, moving with all the limp compliance of a doll.
He’d hate it, if this were the only thing he ever got. But as a contrast to Aiden’s usual snappy attitude and eagerness to push back, it was a treat. Just grinding against him wasn’t going to be enough.
“Too bad I won’t get you like this more often than once in a blue moon,” Jordi murmured as he pushed up and away, letting Aiden’s leg slip free. He’d tossed a bottle of lube onto the side table the first time they’d left the bags in here, and it was still there, innocuous and tempting at the same time.
Rolling the bottle in his hands to warm it up a little, Jordi resettled between Aiden’s legs, considering his prey. With his arms curled around his head and his thighs dropped open, he looked downright debauched already. The curve of his soft dick was the only thing out of place but if he wanted to change that, it wouldn’t be hard. Or rather, it could be. He was the funniest motherfucker alive when he wanted to be.
The real question was, what position did he want Aiden in? Now that he was committed to this course of action, Jordi planned to take his time and enjoy it.
Hefting one of Aiden’s legs up over his shoulder, Jordi set the bottle between his own thighs after dumping lube on his fingers. His eyes were locked on Aiden’s face, measuring every twitch in his expression as he slowly worked one finger in. Aiden’s breath hitched again, but he was loose and relaxed still, hole stretching easily around Jordi’s finger. Without any resistance, Jordi pushed a second finger in, feeling the way the hot muscle twitched around him, confirming what he already knew.
“Look at you, handsome,” he breathed, twisting his fingers and watching a shiver roll through Aiden’s body. A flush was starting to spread over Aiden’s cheeks, dipping down over his shoulders. Jordi added a third finger and relished that way Aiden’s body let him in without hesitation.
It wasn’t just the sleeping pills leaving him this relaxed and unmoving. The heady rush of triumph pulsed through his veins and into his dick, Jordi’s other hand smoothing over Aiden’s stomach as he fingered him. This was practically as good a statement of devotion as Jordi’s own, Aiden’s unconscious mind still trusting him so explicitly not to do anything he wouldn’t like. Tempting as it was to dig his fingers into that scar and prove him wrong, Jordi wanted to feel the slack, sleeping embrace of his body even more.
With the addition of a fourth finger, he’d finally reached the easy limit of Aiden’s body, the ring of muscle tight around his fingers. Jordi twisted his hand, spread his fingers a little, and watched the flush on Aiden’s face with rapt attention, each little gasp music to his ears. He could have fucked him ages ago, but Aiden was a bitch about getting fingered, seeing it as a quick means to an end, a way to double check that he was relaxed enough for whatever Jordi wanted to stuff into him. Slow, tender foreplay got him frustrated and begging too quick for Jordi to indulge that often.
But here, with Aiden’s brain out of the picture, he could take all the time he wanted. Based on the way Aiden’s dick was stiffening and the little moans that came on every exhale, he ought to take his time more often.
“The things you fucking do to me,” he said, pressing a kiss to Aiden’s knee as he finally pulled his fingers out. Still moving slow and careful, he rolled Aiden over completely, adjusting the position of his arms and legs with gentle hands. Aiden’s breathing wasn’t as deep and even as it had been, but there was no glimmer of consciousness on his face when Jordi checked to make sure he wouldn’t hurt his neck.
His palms dragged down Aiden’s back, settled on his hips, then curved around the firm muscle of his ass. The pillow hastily stuffed under Aiden’s hips kept him up and eager for it, the flush smeared down his shoulders and spine equally encouraging. Jordi pushed his fingers into him again, just to feel the tremble that ran through Aiden when he did, then grabbed the bottle of lube.
When he finally, finally pushed in, it was with the same slow, deliberate motions he’d done everything else. Aiden was fire hot around him, relaxed enough that it was easy to push deep, hole twitching as Jordi bottomed out and stayed there just relishing the heat. The tiny sigh of pure want from below him nearly dragged an answering groan out of Jordi’s throat, but he resisted for the moment. The less noise he made, the more likely Aiden was to stay out like a light.
Fuck, but he loved Aiden’s ass. He loved his mouth too, loved the eager way Aiden choked on his cock given half a chance—and Jordi was delighted by the fact that he knew breathplay was one of Aiden’s biggest kinks now, next to being tied up—but his ass was always the thing Jordi came back to. After years of climbing on things, running around like a madman, and riding motorcycles, Aiden had an ass that most guys could only dream of.
All of Aiden’s body was like that, carrying the kind of muscle tone that only a certain kind of life could bring. Gymbunnies were fun fucks when Jordi could be bothered to hunt them down, but the thick muscle in Aiden’s thighs and stretched across his shoulders couldn’t be built in a sterile environment. It took decades of being sculpted by his environment—only thing that came close were the lovely muscles on ring fighters sometimes. And they weren’t half as fun to bend over every piece of furniture in the room.
Aiden, on the other hand. Aiden, he could break an entire house in with if he wanted, making sure to christen every flat surface available.
And when he was like this, taking Jordi’s cock oh so sweetly, trembling and whimpering Jordi’s name in his sleep… He’d be so sick of this, if he got it every day. Like too much cake. But right now, Jordi was really fucking enjoying his dessert.
He took it easy at first, slow, lazy thrusts that were more about watching the way Aiden twitched and shivered underneath him. His fingers kept curling and uncurling in the fabric of the pillow, one hand half-tucked under his cheek from where Jordi had rearranged him and tipped his head sideways so he could breath. Even without Jordi’s hand on him leaving marks, his skin was flushed red, the light catching and dipping over the smooth curves of his muscles.
The urge to croon compliments and praise caught him, and Jordi hummed a few out of habit. He’d been talking to Aiden this whole time, knowing that he couldn’t hear it, but now that he was really tiptoeing on the line of jerking him awake, Jordi wanted to be extra careful. After all, Aiden did actually need his sleep.
But, well. Slow and easy was fun, but it wasn’t enough to get him off.
He shifted, palm sliding over the curve of one asscheek, his other hand braced against the headboard above Aiden’s head. This time, when he rolled his hips, it was a hard, vicious snap, driving into him as his fingers kept Aiden’s hips firmly in place. Aiden tightened around him, clenched a little desperately and made a needy noise that went straight to Jordi’s dick.
“Oh, I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Jordi breathed, a laugh at the edge of his words as he let his eyes fall mostly shut. Even now, Aiden was still hot and eager around him, Jordi’s thrusts driving out pleading little moans that had started to sound half-coherent. Maybe he was going too rough, but it was hard to care—hard to give a shit about anything other than the way Aiden’s body curved underneath him, hips pressing up as Jordi thrusted down.
The thing that finally tipped him over the edge was the way Aiden shuddered, tightened, came underneath him with a gasped, “Jordi, wh—fuck—”
God, he was a fucking menace. On the other hand, Aiden absolutely deserved him, deserved every inch of him currently still buried in his ass, blowing his load. Jordi laughed, soft and a little wild, then dragged his palm up Aiden’s spine, nails scraping through the sweat on his back as Aiden shivered underneath him.
“I got bored,” he said, “and you said you wouldn’t mind.”
“Jesus christ,” Aiden choked out, movements sluggish under the heavy effects of whatever he’d taken. He shifted fretfully and Jordi pulled out, let him roll over as he flopped on the covers next to him, his head bouncing off the sheets where his pillow had been. The one currently covered in Aiden’s come. Didn’t really think that part through as much as he should’ve, come to think of it.
“You did say I could,” Jordi said again, reaching down to tug the covers out from under the both of them. Aiden’s eyes were hazy with drugs and disbelief both, but not anger—more bafflement that his tired comment had been taken seriously at all.
“Helluva way to wake up, I’ll say that.” Aiden shifted, did his best to let Jordi get the sheets and covers over him. One hand flopped across the space between them, fingers curling sloppily around Jordi’s wrist as he got the sheets up high enough to cover Aiden’s shoulder. “Sleep with me?”
Jordi snorted. The bleary look in Aiden’s eyes said he’d be out again in a couple minutes, his momentary waking exactly that—momentary. But there was a comfortable haze of afterglow spread throughout his limbs, and his pillow was a loss, leaving only Aiden’s as a place to rest his head, so he shifted closer. Aiden sighed as he was tugged up into the curve of Jordi’s body, his pillow yanked sideway so Jordi could settle on it too.
“Could’ve had sex earlier,” he mumbled without a hint of reproach, already wrapping his hands over Jordi’s arm around his stomach. When had they gotten so used to sleeping together that this was automatic?
“My point stands, Aiden. Fucking you asleep isn’t my idea of a good time.” Jordi grinned into the nape of his neck, felt the way Aiden went limp and boneless again in his arms. “If I can ever fucking catch you in the mornings though, I’ve got a great idea of how to get you up now.”
“Mm. Shut up.” And like that, he was out again, slipping sideways into the same drugged sleep he’d been in before. No wonder the poor bastard carefully rationed his illicit pills if this was the usual relief they gave him.
Jordi reached past him, flicked off the lamp, then settled in to listen to Aiden breathe. It took a bit, brain still trying to tug back towards China, but eventually the darkness and the heavy weight of the covers did what Aiden’s breathing alone could not, dragging him down towards the promise of another dreamless night.
In the moments before he went, he pressed his lips to Aiden’s ear and whispered, where it couldn’t be heard by anyone, “Love you.”