It had been a long day. A long day of practice and meetings with George, made even longer by the fact that Jack knew Bitty was waiting for him. Just knowing that he was in Jack's apartment while Jack was stuck in meetings made the day drag impossibly long.
With Bitty still at Samwell, and Jack busy with hockey, it had been almost two months since they'd seen each other. There were bi-weekly skype sessions, and daily phone calls, and texts exchanged throughout the day, but none of that held a candle to being in Bitty's presence. Jack hated that it had taken him so long to make a move, that it wasn't until he no longer slept across the hall from Bitty that he'd realized just how much he cared about him. He was happy now—happier than he could remember being in a long while—but sometimes he wished he could go back in time. He wished he'd taken the opportunity to touch Bitty while he was still so easily within reach.
Jack shook the melancholic thoughts off. Bitty was his now, he was here. They were together, and in a couple of minutes, they'd be physically together. It was enough.
He could feel his face splitting into a smile as he fumbled for his key at the door of his apartment. Through the door, Jack could hear the faint sounds of Beyoncé (Bitty would be so proud that he recognized her voice) and instinctively Jack breathed deep, taking in the light scent of something sweet. Jack's heart swelled.
Quietly, he opened the door, unable to control his smile at the catchy beat and the much stronger smell of maple wafting through his apartment. It was so Bitty, and something inside Jack purred at the thought of Bitty making himself so comfortable here, of marking Jack's territory with his undeniable presence.
Dropping his hockey gear by the door, Jack made his way to the kitchen. As expected, Bitty had settled right in, bowls and measuring cups that Jack had never used piled up in the sink as Bitty danced around the kitchen in short-shorts and an oversized Samwell hockey jersey. A buzzer went off, barely audible over the music, and Bitty turned towards the oven. Jack watched appreciatively as Bitty bent over, pulling out Jack's favorite maple-sugar apple pie. Unable to wait another moment, Jack turned off the music blaring from Bitty's iPhone.
Bitty whirled around, his cheeks flushed red. "Jack!" He launched himself at Jack, and Jack barely managed to catch him in time, leaning back against the wall as Bitty wrapped his arms around him and kissed him enthusiastically hello. "You're back early."
"I missed you." Jack said simply.
Bitty's eyes went soft. "I missed you too, silly. Oh! Are you hungry?" Bitty wriggled out of Jack's arms, turning towards the counter. Jack cocked his head, his mind finally registering the fact that the jersey Bitty was wearing wasn't marked with Bitty's number fifteen. "I made—"
"Bitty," Jack said, his voice low and firm. "Are you wearing my old Samwell jersey?"
Bitty froze, the tips of his ears turning red. "Oh, uh, um, yes? I was looking for something to wear in your closet, and I saw this, and—"
Jack took two large steps into the kitchen and spun Bitty around, bending down to take his lips in a hungry kiss. Fuck, seeing Bitty in his apartment, in his kitchen, cooking with his pots, and using his oven, and wearing his clothing, his hockey jersey, his number, it was making Jack feel things. Things like the need to throw Bitty down on the nearest horizontal surface and have his way with him.
"Is there anything still cooking?" Jack asked, sliding his hands down Bitty's smooth back to cup his rounded ass.
Jack chuckled, pleased that just a few minutes kissing had already scrambled Bitty's brain. "I'm going to take you to bed now, Bits. Is there anything in here that will burn?"
"Oh, no, I'm all yours."
Jack smiled, quick and sharp, and then leaned down to kiss Bitty, distracting him before gripping his ass and picking him up off the floor. Bitty squeaked, wrapping his legs around Jack's waist and looking at him in exasperation as Jack carried him towards his bedroom.
"Jack Zimmermann, one of these days you're going to stop picking me up like a ragdoll every time we see each other."
"One of these days we'll be seeing each other a lot more often, and it won't be practical for me to pick you up every single night."
Bitty's breath hitched, his eyes shining before his mouth crashed down against Jack's, his tongue swiping at Jack's lips. Jack stumbled, kicking the door closed. Bitty tugged at the back of Jack's shirt.
"Off, off, get this off. I want you naked."
Bitty dropped to the floor and Jack quickly pulled off his shirt. Because yeah, he wanted that too. Wanted to be naked with Bitty, wanted to feel their bare skin rubbing together. With a quick tug his sweats and boxers dropped to the floor, leaving him half-hard and naked under Bitty's appreciative gaze. Bitty, who was still entirely clothed.
"Bittle," Jack barked, making Bitty jump. "Drop your pants."
Bitty huffed a laugh, but a moment later the pair of tiny shorts were slipping down his hips and pooling at his feet. He moved to take off the jersey, but Jack grabbed his wrist.
"No, leave it on."
Bitty's eyebrows rose and Jack could feel his cheeks heating.
"I—I like seeing you in my clothes, wearing my old number. Want—" He pulled Bitty close, breathing him in as his hands slid down the back of the jersey, sliding down, down until he was cupping the bare skin of Bitty's butt, the globes firm and tight in his palms. "Want to fuck you in it."
Bitty's eyes widened, and he licked his lips. "We can do that," he murmured as he sat back on the bed. He scooted back until he was sitting in the middle, his hard cock peeking out from beneath the hem of the jersey.
Jack's mouth went dry, and he couldn't move, paralyzed by the mouth-watering sight of Bitty on his bed, half-naked and flushed and undeniably his. It had been over a year since they'd started doing this, and sometimes Jack still couldn't believe his luck. He still struggled with the worry that he didn't deserve it, that he wasn't good enough for Bitty's love, but he fought it down. Jack was working on believing that he deserved nice things.
"You plannin' on joinin' me, or should I just get started without you?" Jack shook off his thoughts, grinning at the surge of Bitty's accent, always stronger when he was turned on.
Still smiling, Jack climbed on the bed, chuckling into Bitty's mouth when he reached for him with eager hands and pulled him down for an enthusiastic kiss. It surprised Jack sometimes, how fun sex could be with Bitty. In the past, sex had been frantic and desperate, furious and intense, but it had never filled him with this lightness. Hell, if Parse had laughed when they were in bed together, Jack probably would have shut down, convinced that he was doing something wrong, that he was making a fool of himself. But it was different with Bitty. They could laugh and joke and Jack could be awkward and it was okay. Bitty made things okay.
He leaned over Bitty, shivering at the feel of the smooth jersey material against his bare chest. Bitty's mouth was soft and sweet, and he kissed Jack back like he was desperate for it, like the two months since they'd been able to do this weighed just as heavily on him as they did on Jack.
His hands crept down Bitty's sides as they made out, sliding down the slick material until they reached the warm, soft skin of Bitty's thighs. He broke away, sitting up to take in the delectable image of a lust-drenched Bitty, his skin and cock flushed almost as dark as the maroon of Jack's Samwell jersey. Fuck, it was hot, the way the oversized fabric hung on Bitty's smaller frame, the neckline gaping open, revealing collarbones that Jack wanted to nip and suck.
Jack knew that his desire must be written all over his face, because Bitty smiled coyly, biting his lips before spreading his legs wider, calling attention to his pretty cock and the barest hint of his ass. Jack groaned.
"Fuck, Bitty, you're so—" His fingers trailed down the underside of Bitty's cock, sliding down, down over his balls and perineum to circle at his hole. But instead of dry, wrinkled skin, Jack's fingers felt a slick smoothness. When he pressed at Bitty's entrance with a fingertip, his middle finger slid in to the knuckle. "Tabarnak. Bitty, you're already so wet for me."
Bitty cried out as Jack circled that nub inside him, eyes blown wide with desire. "I—I wanted to be ready for you. Didn't want to have to wait."
Jack slid another finger in, marveling at the way Bitty sucked them right in. "When?" he managed to croak out.
"About—ah—an hour ago. I was taking a nap and your b—bed, it smells like you, and—oh goodness—all I could think about was all the things I wanted us to do when you got home."
Jack's body burned, every cell set alight with the images Bitty's words conjured, images of him splayed out in Jack's bed, desperate and turned on and fingering himself while he fantasized about Jack. How many nights had Jack done the same thing? How many nights had he laid in his cold, lonely bed and wrapped a lube-slick hand around his cock with images of Bitty dancing behind his eyelids? But his bed wasn't cold or lonely now. Now it was filled with a warm, vibrant Bitty, and Jack didn't think he could go another moment before taking him.
He reached for the lube and a condom from his bedside table. His hands trembled with excitement and adrenaline, and it took longer than he'd care to admit to get the condom on, but finally he was ready. Jack focused back on Bitty, surprised to note that he'd turned over on his front, his legs spread wide and ass on display.
"What—?" They usually had sex face to face, so they could touch and kiss. Jack liked seeing Bitty, seeing the pleasure on his face, knowing it was Jack who Bitty chose to give this to.
Bitty looked over his shoulder at Jack, his expression shy. "I thought—this way you can see your old number." Jack's eyes flicked to the large number one on the back of the jersey. "Because I'm yours. You're the only one who gets to...who gets to fuck me. The only one—"
Bitty's words were swallowed by Jack's mouth, Jack leaning over his back and taking his lips in a fervent kiss. The angle was awkward, their mouths just barely brushing together, but Jack had to kiss him, had to find some way to express how perfect Bitty was, how much he loved him. His cock slid along the cleft of Bitty's ass, and Bitty arched up into it, making Jack shiver when the tip of his condom-covered cock caught on the rim of Bitty's hole.
"Fuck, okay, just—" Jack groaned, torn between his desire to keep kissing Bitty, and his desire to fuck him. He pulled back. Fucking Bitty won out by a narrow margin.
He kneeled up between Bitty's spread thighs, sliding his hands up the smooth backs of Bitty's thighs to cup his beautifully perky ass cheeks. Each one fit perfectly in the palm of Jack's hands, and he couldn't help but knead and squeeze the firm flesh.
"Been keeping up with your squats, eh?"
"Jack Zimmermann, do you have nothing better to do back there than chirp?"
Jack laughed, warmth spreading through his veins. "You like my chirps."
Bitty grumbled. "I like your cock better."
"Better than my ass?"
"Your ass is a national treasure, it belongs to the people."
"Oh that's too bad," Jack murmured as he thrust against Bitty's lower back. He leaned close to whisper against Bitty's ear. "I was hoping later tonight my ass could belong just to you."
"Dear lord," Bitty moaned, his hips grinding down against the bed. "Why don't we make it through this round before we start planning round two."
"Yeah?" Jack rubbed the tip of his cock against the lube-slick rim of Bitty's hole. "You want this? Want me to—"
Jack gasped as he slid in, his cock barely encountering any resistance despite the fact that it had been months since they'd done this for real. They'd had enough skype session for Jack to become well acquainted with the various sex toys that Bitty turned to in his absence. He paused when he'd finally sunk all the way inside, panting with his forehead hovering just over his number as he adjusted to the feeling of Bitty wrapped snug around him. Below him, Bitty's fists were clenched tight in the comforter, his head turned to the side and his lips bitten red.
"Alright there, Bits?"
Bitty nodded, turning back to flash Jack a smile. "Perfect. Though I'd be better if you'd move."
"Move, eh? So I should—" He tilted his hips, sliding out until he was just barely inside before rocking back in, slow and deep. Bitty's head collapsed back on the bed as he moaned, nodding vigorously. Jack did it again, and again, looking down to watch the easy slide of his cock inside Bitty's body, fascinated by the image of his thick cock sliding between Bitty's plump cheeks, disappearing into the tight heat of him. His heart raced at the way Bitty opened up for him so sweetly, at the way he begged for more with his broken moans and hitching hips.
His eyes sid upwards, briefly surprised when he encountered red and white instead of the bare arch of Bitty's spine—Jack had forgotten for a second about the jersey. He felt a momentary pang of loss for the obscured view of Bitty's smooth back, but that was quickly lost in the rush of possessiveness that overcame Jack as he took in the jersey. It looked good on Bitty, the colors complementing his flushed form as he writhed on Jack's cock. The too-large neck had slipped to the side, bearing part of Bitty's left shoulder, and the hem had slid up, showing off the small of Bitty's back. But even through the scrunched fabric Jack could still clearly make out the red number one, the number that had been his for his four years at Samwell, the number that had been his while he'd turned his life back around. He'd moved on from Samwell—had a new team, a new jersey, a new number—but Samwell would always be important to him, would always be special.
Seeing Bitty wearing his jersey, letting himself be marked as Jack's, made something wild and primal rise up in him. Jack wished Bitty could wear it out, wished that he could walk around campus wearing Jack's old jersey so that everybody could know that he was taken, that he was Jack's. He hated that Bitty couldn't, that they still had to stay secret, but it wouldn't be forever. Soon, Jack's experience, his hockey skills, would speak for themselves. And then nothing was going to keep him in the closet. Bitty didn't deserve that, and Jack was beginning to believe that he didn't deserve that either.
He growled, picking up the pace, fucking into Bitty faster, rougher. Usually Bitty had to beg Jack to take him like this—Jack was always so terrified of hurting him, Bitty's smaller body seemed so fragile underneath his larger frame. But today Jack didn't think he could do gentle if he tried. He needed Bitty, needed to feel the heat of him, the beautiful vibrancy of him. Bitty showed his pleasure with a string of keening whines and desperate pleas for more. Part of Jack wanted to flip him over, wanted to see Bitty's face as he came, wanted to see the expressions of pleasure flit across his face. Jack couldn't take his eyes off his jersey, though. His gaze remained glued to that red number one, to the compact body beneath it rocking up into every thrust.
"Oh, Jack, I'm close."
So was Jack. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment. "Go on, Bitty. Come. Please, I want to feel you."
Bitty moaned, grinding his slim hips into the bed as Jack continued rutting into him with near-mindless want. A moment later he felt Bitty shudder beneath him, his channel squeezing around Jack's cock as he came onto Jack's bedspread.
"Bitty," Jack growled. He gave another few furious thrusts before he followed, coming with his cock buried deep inside Bitty.
He pressed a kiss to the back of Bitty's neck, smoothing his hands possessively down the back of his old jersey before carefully easing of of Bitty's ass. Tossing the tied condom into the trash by his bed, he crawled next to Bitty, and pulled him onto his chest.
"Hi." Bitty grinned lazily up at him.
"That was nice."
Jack raised his brows. "Nice?"
Bitty blushed. "You know that was amazing."
Jack's chest felt tight. "You're amazing."
Bitty's grin was blinding. "I missed you."
"I missed you, too." More than anything, more than Jack had thought possible. It scared him, the strength of his feelings for Bitty.
He leaned down to kiss him, slow and sweet, and Bitty laughed into the kiss when Jack's stomach growled.
"Oh, I can't believe I let you drag me to bed without properly feeding you first! Luckily I've already made dinner. I've got—" Bitty cheerfully listed out the myriad of food he'd had time to prepare over the past few hours as he slipped out of bed and pulled on his shorts. Jack smiled, pulling his sweats on when Bitty tossed them his way and letting Bitty's soothing babble wash over him. He watched with some regret as Bitty pulled off his jersey—sticky with come from where it had rubbed against the bedspread—and exchanged it for one of the clean shirts from his suitcase. But it didn't matter. Bitty may not be wearing Jack's number, but it didn't make him any less Jack's.
Jack followed Bitty dutifully to the kitchen, listening to his stories about the Haus and the Frogs, happily clearing his plate of delicious food, and hooking his foot with Bitty's under the table as they shared their meal.
Jack may not have everything he wanted, may not be able to give Bitty everything he deserved, not yet. But Jack knew one day he would.