Rhys watches Jack drive, watches his hands firm on the wheel, and thinks, what do I really have to lose here.
“You know, I could -” Rhys starts, but Jack cuts him off with a curt, “No.”
Rhys blinks. “You don’t even know what I was going to -”
“Don’t have to, kid, I can hear your tone loud and clear.” Jack glances over at him, and Rhys can’t really read his expression behind those sunglasses. “We’re in enough trouble with Angel as it is, don’t go making things worse.”
Rhys slumps against the passenger door, and he can feel himself pouting. Jack’s not wrong, though - back at the house there had been a lot of pleading from Rhys, placating hand gestures from Jack, and angry shouting from Angel, who had eventually stormed out with a, “you can find your own way back to campus, Rhys!” Rhys and Jack had been left staring awkwardly at each other in the kitchen as the screech of Angel’s tires echoed and then faded outside.
Eventually Jack had squared his shoulders and said, “grab your bag, kid, I’ll give you a ride back.” Rhys has spent most of the ride covertly watching Jack, but the college is still some distance away and it’s slowly dawning on Rhys that this may be the last uninterrupted time he ever has with Jack. Rhys is not above taking advantage of that.
Or at least, he’s trying .
Jack’s car is fast, expensive, and low to the ground, which also means that the backseat is non-existent and the front seats are close together. It’s driving Rhys just a little bit crazy, to have Jack so close and not be able to touch, but Jack has kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel, much to Rhys’ disappointment.
Rhys shifts his shoulders, re-adjusting where his head is propped against the window so his neck isn’t so cramped. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jack turn his head, and when Rhys glances over Jack looks at him just a little too long before turning his eyes back to the road. Testing, Rhys brings his hand up to rest lightly where his neck is stretched out and on display, just for a second, and sure enough Jack looks over again for a long moment before going back to staring fixedly ahead. Jack’s hands flex on the steering wheel.
Oh . Okay, Rhys can work with this .
Rhys sits up slowly, and Jack glances at him a third time, as if he needs to keep an eye on where Rhys is, but he doesn’t say anything. Rhys turns in his seat so he’s facing Jack and rests a hand daringly on Jack’s knee, prepared to be rebuffed at any moment.
He isn't. Jack remains silent as Rhys drags his hand up Jack’s thigh, although his knuckles whiten around the wheel. Rhys skims his fingers over Jack’s cock through his pants, and chuckles when Jack hisses out a breath from between his teeth.
“Shut up,” Jack says through a clenched jaw, but he doesn’t say stop so Rhys chooses to take that as encouragement and presses harder.
“I didn’t say anything,” Rhys says, all innocence as Jack’s cock starts to fill underneath his fingers.
“Shut up ,” Jack growls, but his legs shift wider in the seat. “This is such a bad idea.”
“Just keep your eyes on the road,” Rhys says as he unbuckles Jack’s belt and gets to work on his pants. “Hands at ten and two, right?”
“You cocky little shit,” Jack says, but it turns into a groan as Rhys gets a hand on Jack’s dick. “Just -” he takes his right hand off the wheel and wraps it around the back of Rhys’ neck, pushing Rhys down toward his cock. “Just shut up and come here .”
Rhys unbuckles and squirms out of his seatbelt as Jack guides him down, and then he’s faced with Jack’s rapidly stiffening cock. He skips right past the usual foreplay and just goes for it, and Jack groans above him as Rhys takes as much of it in his mouth as he can. He chokes a bit when it brushes the back of his throat, but Jack squeezes the back of his neck encouragingly so Rhys pulls up, dragging his lips, and works his way back down, breathing through his nose.
He’s at an awkward angle, twisted in his seat and arms braced against Jack’s leg, but Jack’s hand is a warm, reassuring weight on his neck and if the way Jack’s breath is hitching is any indication, Rhys isn’t doing too badly. Jack pushes his fingers into Rhys’ hair, blunt fingernails scraping over Rhys’ scalp, murmuring indistinct praise that Rhys only catches a word of here and there but nonetheless fills him with warmth.
It’s sloppy; Rhys is being enthusiastic and Jack’s dick is steadily leaking precome, but Jack doesn’t seem to care so Rhys doesn’t bother himself about it either. He works his way as far down as he can and hollows out his cheeks around Jack’s dick, tongue pressing hard, and Jack swears and his hips jerk up into Rhys’ mouth. Rhys feels the muscles in Jack’s leg tense reflexively, and hears the engine rev as Jack’s foot involuntarily presses down on the gas. The car surges forward, and Jack eases off immediately, but Rhys still almost loses his precarious balance; would have, if Jack hadn’t tightened his grip in Rhys’ hair and held him in place.
“Christ,” Jack laughs breathlessly. “Do that again.”
So Rhys does, and Jack sucks in a breath above him, but he controls himself - and the car - better this time and just murmurs “so good for me, baby, so good,” playing with the short hairs at the nape of Rhys’ neck. It doesn’t take long after that; pretty soon Jack’s fingers are tightening again in Rhys’ hair and holding him still, and Jack comes down Rhys’ throat with a grunt. Rhys swallows as best he can, but he still coughs when Jack lets him go and he can sit up again.
Jack tucks himself away again and Rhys shifts in his seat, his own cock sitting hard and throbbing between his legs.
“Are you - are you going to help me out with this?” He says, and he wishes he didn’t sound as needy as he feels.
Jack huffs as he zips himself up. “Relax, kid, I’ve got you covered. Buckle up,” he adds with a grin, glancing at Rhys. “Safety first.”
Rhys doesn’t think he’s ever put on a seatbelt so fast in his life, and Jack chuckles as he reaches over. “You know, it would be kind of funny how goddamn eager you are for this if it weren’t also flattering.” Rhys scrambles to undo his own button and zip and groans with relief as Jack draws his dick out of his boxers. “Ah, who am I kidding, it’s still funny.”
“Nnn nngh .” Rhys doesn’t have a response for that because Jack has curled his fingers around Rhys’ cock and is pumping in slow, lazy strokes. Rhys braces his feet around his backpack on the floorboards and his arm on the door, letting his hips rock up into Jack’s fist.
“That’s it, I’ve got you.” Jack twists his wrist and Rhys bites his lip to stifle the sound that brings out of him. “Aw, don’t be like that - let me hear you, baby, come on.” So Rhys tips his head back and lets the little whimpers and sighs that Jack’s wringing out of him fill the car.
Rhys can feel the familiar tightening in his gut and his hips jerk and he is close, he is so close - and then Jack stops , his steady movements coming to a halt.
“Napkins, glove compartment,” Jack says, and Rhys just gapes at him because his brain is definitely not up to deciphering that right now.
“Come on, I’m not gonna have you messing up this interior. Napkins, or you can blueball it back to school.”
“Okay, okay!” Rhys would agree to anything at this point - he scrabbles desperately at the glove compartment until it pops open and grabs a handful of napkins. “Just - just please don’t stop.”
“Your wish is my command, kiddo.” Jack’s hand starts moving, and Rhys is still so close that Jack barely has to touch him again before he’s coming with a strangled little noise. He catches his release in a napkin before collapsing bonelessly in the seat. The vibration of the car is soothing and he just lies there for a minute, catching his breath.
Jack wipes his hand on Rhys’ pants, breaking the moment, and Rhys grunts in annoyance. “Can you stop doing that?”
“You’re fine, don’t worry about it. If anyone notices, just tell them you got lucky. Which you did. And hey look, perfect timing.” Jack nods at the sign on the other side of the highway. “There’s your exit.”
Rhys looks up, and it is indeed the exit sign for the college that they’ve just passed. That means there’s only a few more minutes before he gets out of the car and walks away from Jack, possibly for the last time.
He’s - he’s not sure how he feels about that.
He’s distracted by briefly fearing for his life as Jack cuts across three lanes of traffic to make the exit, and then he has to put his clothing back together and then they’re pulling up behind the dorms, and - and Rhys guesses this is it.
He looks over at Jack as Jack kills the engine and sets the brake. Jack looks back at him, face still hidden behind sunglasses . The silence is tense and Rhys doesn’t quite know how to break it.
“So I’ll - I guess I’ll see you around?” Rhys ventures, wondering if he's supposed to just get out of the car and go or if he can get away with kissing Jack or what.
“Actually,” Jack drums his fingers on the steering wheel and Rhys’ stomach starts to sink. “You won't.”
“See, I'm heading up development overseas, which means I'm leaving the country in a few days. It was last minute, you know how these things go.” Rhys doesn't, but that's the least of his concerns here.
“When will - do you know when you'll be back?” He says, trying to process.
“Oh, not for six months at least,” Jack says casually, as if Rhys’ gut isn’t imploding. “Could be a year.”
“Oh. I - Oh.” Rhys looks down at his hands. This isn’t - this is fine . He and Jack aren’t dating or anything, he knows that, of course he knows that, but he had thought - Rhys doesn’t know what he had thought.
That Jack would be around maybe? Even as he thinks it Rhys knows how ridiculous he sounds, like a lovesick teenager. Jack had been a novelty. A thrilling, addictive adventure - but Rhys has always known this wasn’t a thing , hasn’t he? Surely he has.
That doesn’t explain why he suddenly can’t breathe right.
“When you said we were going to have a talk, I thought -” Rhys doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.
Jack hesitates for just a second, but it’s enough to make Rhys look up. “Yeah, well. Consider this the talk.” Rhys waits for Jack to say more, but Jack just rubs his thumb along the seam of the leather on the wheel.
“So I guess this is it then,” Rhys says when it becomes clear Jack’s not going to offer up anything else.
“Yup,” Jack says, popping the ‘p.’ He pulls his sunglasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, and suddenly Rhys can’t stand to be in the car with him anymore.
Rhys grabs for the door handle, jerking it open. He scoops his backpack up off the floor and is about to make his escape when Jack stops him with a hand on his arm. Rhys looks back, not sure what it is he hopes to see, but even with the sunglasses off Rhys can’t read Jack’s expression.
Jack opens his mouth and then closes it again. Rhys waits, but Jack just lets go and just says, “Take care of yourself, kid.”
“You...you too,” Rhys says, and slowly climbs out the car. Jack doesn’t stop him this time, and as Rhys shuts the door Jack starts the engine. He salutes Rhys through the window and puts the car in reverse, and Rhys steps back.
So that’s it, then. On the one hand, he and Jack had some mind-blowing sex. On the other, his friendship with Angel is probably ruined. And now it’s all over.
Rhys watches Jack drive off and wonders if this was all worth it.