e_delmar | (no subject)

Current Mood: angry

(no subject)

[OOM: After this.]

He'd go to the stables, but he'd have to go through all the people to get there. He'd go-

well, shit, he'd go just about anywhere, really, but he can't. So he's in his fucking shithole of a room at the fucking shithole of the end of the universe, where a fucking shithole tried to kiss him-

they know, they know, they all know

and SHIT if he doesn't just punch the fucking wall.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If there's one thing Jack hates, it's letting his mind dwell on things he can't do nothin' about, and he knows Ennis dwells, so he grasps Ennis' waist, leans their foreheads together.

"Forget about it," he says, quiet. "It don't mean nothin', Ennis."

None of it means anything, except this.

This is everything.

Nothing means anything but the scrape of Jack's hands on his skin, the feel of Jack's breath on his neck, the taste of Jack on his lips. He leans up and forward, breathing hard, doing something, anything, to get closer.

Jack pulls him close, thigh and groin and stomach pressing together, kisses him again and again, like it's the first time he's ever kissed Ennis, like it's been four fuckin' years all over again. He closes his eyes, there's a sound like a groan at the back of his throat when he tugs Ennis closer, his fingers tangling in Ennis' hair.

A jolt goes through Ennis and it's like he's back in the tent, not knowing what to do or even what the fuck's going on. He gasps for breath and when he looks up into Jack's eyes, he's nervous, wild, calm, oh so calm, and he needs, moaning at the pull that comes with Jack's fingers caught in his hair.

Jack makes a sound that's half a curse and half a groan and pushes Ennis onto his back, sliding in on top of him with muscles in his back tensing while he presses down on him. His hands touch where they can, finding something new even though he knows this by heart, has memorized every angle and plane of Ennis' body. His mouth moves hotly down Ennis' neck while they tangle together.

Ennis tries to breathe as he squirms, tries to move tries to get up tries to lay down tries to lay back and let Jack's mouth do its thing and make the voices in his head shut the hell up and then Jack does something right there and he squirms again, but not trying to get free this time, and he chokes back something; a cry or a moan or maybe something in between.

Jack looks up, his eyes hot and dark hair all rumpled up around his face and he'd tell those voices to shut the fuck up if he could. And damn if he doesn't like making Ennis lose control, so he does it again, right there, pushes Ennis because Ennis can push back, moves against him, heated skin and breath coming hard.

Sometimes it seems the harder Ennis tries to hold on, the quicker he loses control, and when Jack pushes, he can't help but push back, panting and swallowing and groaning as he moves down and Ennis reaches up with his hands, grasping for skin wherever he can get it.

Jack fumbles between them with clothing and buttons and belts, his mouth at Ennis' throat, feeling the pulse come quicker. He's breathing too hard and his kisses come sporadically, but there's skin against skin and rough cloth and Ennis' mouth hot against his own, and that is good.

Ennis helps him much as he can, hands clawing at clothes, pushing at shoes and wrists and skin and Ennis arches up, trying to touch, to feel.

"Ennis," says Jack, low and rough, and moves slow, moves down, trying to get closer, like he's trying to get in Ennis' skin because anything else just ins't close enough, not nearly close enough.

Ennis says Jack, or at least he thinks he does, but it's lost over the roaring in his ears and oh god oh god oh good god in heaven he swallows, his throat dry, too dry, and his nails dig into Jack's skin as they move.

Nothing but this, nothing ever ever but this, want and need and love, which sounds stupid when Lureen says it but Jack can't even think it now, just knows it's there like Ennis is there. His head drops to Ennis' shoulder, one hand gripping at Ennis' waist and fuck and everything starts to fracture, a little, except for the movement and the feel of Ennis beneath him.

Ennis doesn't know love and wouldn't know it if it hit him upside the head. But he knows how Jack makes him feel, knows that low rumbling in his stomach and the way it feels like he's being fucking electrocuted, like all the energy in the room's going through Jack and into him, and he's almost surprised when the clock's still running on the bedside table.

Shit, he says, and he groans it out, moving, now, needing, wanting, needing Jack.

Jack's hand finds Ennis', grasps it tightly, and they move and need together and everything goes fuzzy around the edges. He's burning and light-headed and when Ennis digs his fingers into his back Jack shudders

gun's goin' off

and drops, breathing hard.

And god if that sound and that feel and Jack fallin' on top of him like that doesn't just about drive him crazy, and there's a yell, a grunt, a what the hell was that as he arches up and falls back down, Jack's weight heavy on top of him like there weren't never supposed to be anything else there.

Jack breathes heavy and ragged, and Ennis smells like sweat and work along with that tang that is solely Ennis. He feels loose and heavy and sprawled out, and has to think about letting go off Ennis' waist before he actually can, sliding off to the side and landing on his own shoulder with his arm still over Ennis' waist and his face pressed into Ennis' shoulder like he can't breathe without Ennis there.

Hell, for all Jack knows, he can't. So he lies there, all rumpled and loose and considers reaching for a cigarette, and breathes Ennis in.

Ennis is already reaching for them, second nature, like breathing, and he lights one, takes a drag, and hands it over to Jack, eyes closed and a half smile on his face and it's almost like he can't even remember what he was so fucking angry about to start with.

"Shit."

Jack takes the cigarette and smiles a little to see Ennis smiling a little, scrubs a hand over his face and takes a pull of smoke. It burns on it's way into his lungs, and he hands it back, curling into Ennis with a lazy sort of nod.

"Shit. Yeah."

He likes this moment, when all the tension is dissolved and he can sink into the mattress, close his eyes, let his hand loosely trace Ennis' stomach, his arm.

He opens his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what the fuck he's trying to say, but just ends up taking a few more drags on his cigarette. Shit if it ain't funny, this feeling that there ain't nobody in the world but them.

So far as Jack's concerned, there really isn't anyone but them, not now, anyway, and he reaches over to take the cigarette again, opening his eyes so he doesn't miss it and burn one of the two of them with ashes. He sighs out the smoke, smiles a crooked, dopey sort of smile, shifts to lean back against the pillow.

Ennis opens his eyes when he feels Jack's fingers nudge his for the cigarette, and leans over to look at Jack; look at him close like he doesn't so much here, where the face is smoother and softer.

Jack blinks up at him, lazily, all rumpled dark hair and drowsy smile while he flicks some ashes from the cigarette into a small dish on the bedside table.

"Hey there."

He coughs, clearing his throat, and purses his lips into a sedated and self satisfied smirk.

"Hey."

Jack reaches up, palms Ennis' face to run his thumb along the ridge of cheekbone, and laughs at the smirk.

He also seems to be keeping the cigarette for himself.

"What're you lookin' at, huh?"