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no one means what they say.
you've learned that.
it didn't make sense to you that humans would be duplicitous or omit the truth or break promises, you came into the world like an animal in your sincerity and if you took refuge in a barricade of sarcasm perhaps this was because it broke your heart to discover that people lied.
but he says what he means.
and maybe it's enough that he says what he means.
maybe there is room for you two, here, after the end of the world.
drifting along waiting to have a purpose again. waiting to mean something. waiting for your existence to seem solid, for the formless void to coalesce.
his hands are warm, and real.
if he touches you enough, maybe you'll be warm, too.
ah.
ah, like the breath taken in, breaking the surface of the water, when you thought you might not make it.
ah -
his familiar beloved body between your slack spread legs, arched over you on the bed. flat on your back.
ah -
there's a good boy, jake whispers and his stubble scratches against your neck and he keeps gently stroking his fingers inside you. you feel drunk and dizzy. your own fingers are digging into his back because is is absolutely necessary that he stay right here and never go. he keeps adding lube and worming a little deeper, pressing against the sides, working you open.
much, much slower than you usually do it. like it's worth it, to him, to take the time - like he gets something out of it. like you're precious.
ah -
christ on a cracker, jake mumbles, kissing the side of your neck and over your throat and up to your lips. he keeps looking at you. it's nice. the way he looks at you, you feel warmer, you feel like you're the most important thing in the world to him.
ah -
let me do - this part - all the time, all right? he murmurs, desperately, face inches from yours. he slides his fingers a little further in, and then pushes a little firmer, until he's squelching his palm against your skin. grinding and rubbing. you're shivering, but you aren't cold. there's sparks running up your spine, the feeling of having something hot and moving inside you, dense gelatin pleasure. all right, love?
- yeah, you agree, slurring your speech.
yeah? he echoes, licking the word out of your mouth. you're buzzing with something. dunno what. feels good. he twists his fingers a little and you squirm.
mm - yeaaah, you say again, voice wavering. his eyes get darker when you make noise for him. you like to watch his pupils blow out. yeah -
god, you're gorgeous, jake whispers, fervent. it sinks into your mind like a pill dissolving in water, coloring the liquid, staining you pretty. if you're gorgeous - he's the only one who needs to think you are. and he does. he does, he does.
ah -
toes and fingers curling. uncurling. clutching him, sweaty palms, grip weak. a sweet and heavy feeling. like you're composed of fog and he's some chemical in the air, suffusing you. he gently pushes your hair off your damp forehead while rocking his palm against the vulnerable arch of your pubic bone, everything wet and sweet and gentle. it's like -
it's like someone taking care of you. someone who loves you.
tugging at his shoulders you kiss him so greedily, sucking his tongue into your mouth, bruising your lips against his. you don't think you'll ever get enough of the way he kisses back.
jesus christmas - could you pull your knees up for me? pet? jake asks, like he's gulping for air, torso trembling. he's so solid, and real, and you don't notice anything else in the world when he's bent over you like this. you think he's your ceiling. your sky.
mmh - yeah.
you pull them up for him and wait, hands behind your knees, breathing softly through your mouth.
he exhales through his teeth.
the way jake looks at you - your vanity purrs, pride jacked up all the way to eleven. you can see between his legs. yeah, you're his darling clementine, all right. apple of his eye. you lick your lips - tender, from all the kisses - and keep waiting.
that's good, dirk, he tells you finally, crooking his finger under your chin, cradling your face. you're so very good.
he says it like he wants to drink you up and like he's in awe of you. your heart is racing. fresh heat blooms through your skin, your face, your chest. the moment feels sacred.
and jake's wide smile is so simple and kind that something shatters inside you - some last, paper-thin barrier against the sunlight pouring in.
god, but he takes your breath away.
and then he fucks his fingers into you hard, his rhythm brisk.
ah -
doesn't hurt - not much would after all that prep - but he can reach deeper at this angle, it's -
you're making these whimpering noises, you can barely recognize the sounds coming out of your throat.
fuck, jake -
sweetheart, he croons, unrelenting, crooking his fingers as he drags them out - you choke on a gasp and grit your teeth for lack of something to bite. darling dove.
you are present and vibrating in every single livid cell of your body, and it is overwhelming the way hurricanes are overwhelming, how you are so terribly alive.
how he makes it so good.
you wish you could share it.
tell me what you want, he whispers, watching you fall to pieces by the minute. his eyes are melting pools, his body drips hot saltwater as you convulse and tremble. maybe you're both burning.
jake -
tell me. (not commanding, only entreating, and maybe that's why you obey him so easy, because he never expects you to. look how tame you are.)
jake -
you wanna come like this, baby?
his voice is drenched in coaxing, saturated syrup, almost too much for you. he eases up a little, slowing his fingers so you can draw breath. you can't quite think straight through the riot - nerve endings sparking, neurons misfiring.
too boneless with pleasure to sit up but you reach for his dick anyway, vision blurry.
- wanna make you feel good, you slur out, a thick needy drawl.
jake makes a noise like he's choking on something. bats your hand aside - tugs his fingers out of you - you hiss, startled.
he breathes hard, gripping your thighs with both hands, and then meets your eyes again. you blink. he squeezes. reassurance.
you want my dick, baby? jake asks you gently, kissing the side of your face. he seems very amused. you're not sure why.
yeah, you murmur, impatient. toes curl. vexed.
his eyes are very soft.
then let me see to it, chickadee, he tells you almost-laughing, and kisses you hard, nipping at your lower lip.
oh! oh -
irritation gone, you're relieved. slightly embarrassed by yourself - grabby, much? but it's okay, he doesn't mind, he thinks it's cute, he whispers into your skin.
don't need to hold your knees up - he hooks your legs over his shoulders, warm burn in your hamstrings. your hands are lying palms-up on the bed, beside your head - he tucks one of the pillows under your hips and then takes one of them, lacing your fingers with his.
all right, love? he murmurs, checking your face, kissing the tip of your nose.
yeah - yes please, you tell him. he has the nicest laugh.
slips two fingers back inside and spreads you open, easily, to guide the head in. you're so relaxed - you feel a dark red buzz in the base of your spine at the squelching noise it makes, let your mouth drop open for air.
ah -
he breaches you in one slow, measured slide.
ahhh -
and then holds your other hand like the first, interlocked fingers, dovetailed knuckles. rubs his thumb over your bones, nuzzles his face against your damp forehead. his body has a fine tremor running through it - like a wire, tensile, strength held in reserve, you can't help but admire him.
breathe, he reminds you.
you nod.
jake fucks into you at the same generous tempo he was keeping earlier, and it's really hot, you feel stretched around him, like he's hollowed out a place inside you for himself. if you relax your mind and bones and let his movements swallow you, you think you can feel his pulse where your body clutches his. his heartbeat, jumping and racing. you do this to him.
beautiful, dirk, he pants out.
submerged in something liquid-warm. mind skipping tracks, going offline. electric sparks dancing through your pelvis, trailing constellations through your nerves. lost in a galaxy. jake strung the stars for you, you think, in a moment of unlucid poetry. squeeze his fingers harder. turn your head, kiss his thumb.
there's a good boy, jake croons, sounding punch-drunk and delirious, pistoning harder. he sounds happy. you're pretty sure you're smiling like a fool but you're too warm and floating, too detached from your body's editorial processes to know. curl your ankles together behind his neck. coax him closer, for kissing. shiver all over, without stopping.
i love you, i love you, you tell him on repeat, and he gives you more and more, until you're lost in it.
it's so good you wish it could go on forever - this oasis in your brain where everything is saturated with him, a place where even the idea of pain can't enter.
oh, darling, jake says, kissing sweat off your brow, wide eyes fixed on your face, and you orgasm.
a hard jolt, like a stone skipping across water - still flying, after, one high cresting arc. vision whiting out. there are noises spilling out from between your lips and you can't parse them, don't know what they mean, only that they are for him.
you think he comes too, but you're not quite back yet when it happens - it registers as after-images, aftersounds, delayed tactile reactions. his voice - weary/sated/in-love-with-you, velvet friction.
brisk hands, toweling off the damp cold spots on your stomach, between your legs.
body settled beside yours, gathering you into it. you feel/hear yourself exhale and it's the best breath you've ever let out of your lungs.
- you did so well, jake said into your ear a minute or two ago.
his hands are warm, and real.
they're stroking the length of your back, your hair, whatever he can reach.
you blink, several times.
(and he's touching you, so you're real too. for sure.)
welcome back, jake whispers to you, bumping his nose against yours. you're still fuzzy at the edges, but he's right, you're here. on the bed, in his arms, tangled up in him and the bedsheet - most of your sweat has dried but you can still smell him all over you, and you savor it, inhaling carefully. he waits, observing.
... hi. (exhausted. you don't know if you want to shower or sleep first.)
hi. ... i love you, jake says, once he's sure you can understand english. your heart skips.
(people lie, but jake always says what he means, so it's true.)
ah.
ah, the kind of breath a drowning man gives out when he's safe from shipwreck, a salvaged air from salvaged lungs.
you tuck your head under his chin, and let him tow you gently in to shore.