Something Human

by beeepochi

Summary:

16 year old Jian Nangong thought spiderwebs - when empty - were such beautiful things. He'd never imagined it possible to get caught in one himself.

Notes:

another au for jian n james :]

this was a request from a tumblr anon last yr that ive been savin for october/halloween so wanted to at least try get it rolling now. fortnightly updates 🎃

Chapter 1

Summary:

Jian swallowed and tucked his phone away.

"There's been another one." Kendra murmured, eyes on her phone.

Jian picked a piece from the crust of his sandwich. "What?"

Kendra sighed and slid her phone so it sat between them on the cafe table, facing Jian.

 

Babysitter, 18, Fourth in String of Killings

 

Jian's stomach turned and his heart clenched. Beneath the headline was the smiling photograph of a young woman. He didn't know what to say.

Kendra let out a breath and took her phone back. "You should quit." She told him. "I'll hire you here if you need a job that badly."

Jian took his little piece into his mouth. "Like m' job." He muttered. "'Sides, quittin' doesn't make it safe; be fucked up 'f I quit 'n' then my replacement's-- killed."

Kendra looked at him. "That logic doesn't stack up."

Jian broke eye contact and picked up his sandwich. "Not my problem."

She snorted and leant back in her seat, gaze falling to the cafe windows and the view of the street beyond. "Just look after yourself." She told him. "Trust your gut. That's all."

Jian made a small noise of acknowledgment and bit into his food.

 

* * *

 

He looked after a set of six-year-old twins; family friends of Leo. He'd recommended Jian give babysitting a try while he looked for other work. Jian had been hesitant, at first, but it didn't take him long to warm to the job. Kids were easier, in many ways, than adults and it was so rewarding to get a smile or laugh from them; to help them with the things they asked for; to see they were safe and content and know he had actively contributed to that state. Tonight, however, Jian was being sacked. Though that was a very harsh way to put it and misrepresented the situation entirely.

 

The two girls were tucked into bed upstairs. Hailey, their mother, was sitting with Jian in the kitchen. Each had a cup of tea.

"I'm just always so worried." she continued. "You're amazing and the girls love you but if anything happened, I couldn't--" She sighed and ran her eyes over Jian's face. "-I'd feel so guilty."

Jian hadn't much to say. He nodded. His own gaze rested on her mug, cupped between her hands. It was confirmed, not long after the news of the latest killing first broke, that it had happened two streets away.

"And I've talked with my job; they're happy for me to work from home in the afternoons." She said. "Just until the killings stop and whoever it is gets caught." She tried to catch his eye and offered a smile: sympathetic, but genuine. "Then I'll want you back."

Jian nodded again, then swallowed and told himself not to be so ungrateful. "I get it." He said. "Thanks."

She leant back in her chair and released another breath. "Crazy world, huh?"

Jian took a small sip of tea. "Yeah." He agreed. "Crazy."

 

* * *

 

He got off a few stops early in order to walk home. It allowed his mind to settle around this new reality. Maybe he should ask Kendra about a job in the cafe. But he liked working evenings; every week night was better than every weekend in terms of both pay and free time. Jian kicked a stray pebble with the toe of his shoe. The hard grey of its surface was painted golden by streetlights. It skittered off into the gutter with a dull series of clatters. He exhaled through his nose, tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket and wondered what it was that made some people killers. Nature versus nurture drifted languidly through his mind; antisocial personality disorders followed quietly behind; then he just thought of chemicals in the brain. Any news on the killings heavily implied the perpetrator was a male. Jian didn't think it was helpful to assume, but he knew female serial killers were significantly less frequent. He wondered why; women had way more shit to deal with. He lifted his eyes to his apartment complex and told himself what a stupid thought that was.

 

His mum wasn't in. Working overtime. Again. Jian took himself to his room, dumped his bag on the floor and flopped onto the bed to pull out his phone. He looked through job postings aimed at high school and tertiary students. Retail and hospo made up a large part of the results; Jian wasn't averse to those, but decided to impose a childcare and tutoring filter before he began applying anywhere and everywhere. The filter narrowed the results to double-figures and presented him first with:

 

After-school babysitter – Villanova

Negotiable but starting at $26/hour

Permanent Part Time

5 days/week from 4-6pm (will vary significantly)

 

Energetic, easy 4 year old boy to a single dad. He's very playful and currently obsessed with crafting. Calm, patient candidate ideal. Will be expected to cook dinner each night and engage in play/education, not simply supervision.

 

Jian saw the listing had only been posted this morning; he looked up where Villanova was – a bit posh, but easy to get to – then sent his application and CV through the website's system. $26 an hour was mind-boggling. He scrolled through a few other listings and bookmarked a couple, but saved applying until after he heard back about this one; Jian didn't like having too much admin going on at once. He dropped his phone aside, stared at his ceiling for a moment, then rolled off the bed and shuffled toward the bathroom for a shower.

 

* * *

 

When he woke the next morning, he did not expect to be greeted by a text from the listing's owner.

 

信息          2 小时前

123 456 7890

Hey Jian, it's James– you responded to the babysitter's ad I put up. Would you be keen to meet me and Liam to see how things feel on both sides? As we've just hit the weekend, we could grab a coffee today or tomorrow? Let me know what suits :)

 

Jian rubbed sleep from his eyes.

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午 8:49

hi i can do today

 

Jian chewed the inside of his lip for a moment. Then added:

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午 8:49

thanks for quick response

 

He took himself to piss and brush his teeth and was greeted by yet another quick response upon his return.

 

信息          5 分钟前

123 456 7890

No problem. Where are you based? We can come to you and find somewhere nice nearby. 11am ok?

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午 8:56

11 fine

can meet u at bakery on mason ave

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午 8:56

Perfect

See you then

 

Jian's mum was still sleeping as he meandered out to have some tea and breakfast. A small, tight anxiety took up occupation of his gut, growing gently stronger the closer it inched toward 11am; he felt faintly nauseous by the time he was tugging on his shoes and stepping out of their shitty little apartment.

 

The walk to the bakery calmed his nerves a little, giving the energy somewhere to go. He didn't entirely agree with his body's decision to be nervous in the first place. There were no stakes here. This was a two-way process. It was for him as much as for his potential employer.

 

He took to a bench and tugged out his phone in order to tell James he wore a grey hoodie. The response he received was, as perhaps could now be expected, prompt:

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午 10:55

Ok easy

I drive a black Mercedes. We're 2min away

 

Jian swallowed and tucked his phone back into a pocket. He looked at his shoes: old, worn, showing signs of coming apart at the soles. What a weird little world it was - that these trainers could coexist with luxury cars and extravagant neighbourhoods.

 

He lifted his head, an indistinct amount of time later, at the purr of a motor and the crunch of tyres on concrete. Sure enough, a sleek black Mercedes rolled into the carpark, pulling up in the space closest to Jian on his right. Jian's stomach jumped and twisted as he pushed himself to his feet. The car's engine died and the driver's door cracked open. Jian's stomach saved itself the trouble and decided simply to combust as his eyes settled on the man who had just stepped out.

 

Fuck.

Chapter 2

Summary:

"D'you come here a lot?" James broke the silence with gentle ease. "You looked friendly with that worker."

Notes:

happy halloween >:}

He was the most handsome man Jian had ever seen in his life. He was more handsome, Jian thought, than he'd likely ever have been able to imagine. He was, indeed, so handsome it was agitating; Jian may as well turn tail and go home.

 

White, tall and ambiguously in his mid-30s. He had brown hair, neatly and conventionally cut, with a trim beard. Dull green eyes. Strong jaw. Masculine. Self-assured. Mature. Jian's stomach tingled.

 

James slammed the driver's shut and gave Jian a smile, moving over. "Hey. James." The self-introduction was hardly necessary as he held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Jian bit the inside of his cheek and shook the hand. Warm and big; Jian's fitted very neatly against it; looked small within it. "Hi. Yeah."

James let go and stepped back toward his car. The rear passenger was cracked open and James leant in, assumedly to help his kid out of his seatbelt. Sure enough, little legs stuck out of the car before being followed by a little body as the kid clambered down. He was cute: hair a shade lighter than his father's, bright eyes – brown, probably from his mother – and a few freckles. James took his hand after closing the rear passenger's. "And this is Liam." He said, meeting Jian's eye again with a mild smile. "Liam, this is Jian." He pronounced the latter's name without awkwardness, hesitation or butchery; Jian's cheeks warmed.

He looked to Liam and offered a smile. "Hey." There was a dinosaur on the kid's shirt; "Like your shirt."

Liam beamed. "It's a dinosaur."

Jian couldn't help the faint breath of laughter that left him at that. "Mn. Very cool."

James let his son's hand go and ruffled his hair. "D'you wanna hop in?" He spoke to Jian. "We can grab a coffee."

Jian nodded, chest gathering a few dull nerves to push up his throat.

 

He sat in the back beside Liam. The car was impossibly clean, barely even a speck of dust. It smelt unused; unsat in. James fastened his seatbelt, then met Jian's eye in the rearview. "Any cafes you like?"

The only cafe Jian went to was Kendra's. "Um." He opted, given the four-year-old next to him, to give the street rather than cafe name: "S'one on Mill Street."

"Mill Street." James echoed evenly and the engine purred to life. "Okay, perfect."

Jian's throat clicked.

Liam was looking at him.

James began to reverse smoothly from his park and Jian dug his middle fingernail into the skin of his thumb. "So, y'like-- dinosaurs?" Incredibly stilted, debatably forced, but nonetheless incredibly effective; Liam brightened and began to spout words as if a bucket overflowing with water.

 

He seemed a happy, talkative child and spent nearly the entire car ride chattering – as Jian listened with helplessly curved lips – about diplodocuses, then woolly mammoths, then sabre-toothed tigers. Jian hardly felt the passing of ten fauna-filled minutes, so almost forgot to point out Kendra's cafe as James turned onto Mill Street. James pulled over on the right and killed the engine. Across the road, a sign above a green door read Fuckoffee. If James had any opinions on the name, he didn't voice them.

 

The bell tinkled gently as the three of them stepped inside. Kendra was behind the counter, chatting with an old man. She caught Jian's eye; grinned; took in the two patrons Jian had brought with him; and raised her eyebrows. Jian was about to head over when Liam took hold of his hand and continued from where he'd left off in the car:

"And I think cats would be way better if they also had fangs." he said sagely. "Way cooler."

Jian hoped his palm wasn't sweaty. "Think you're right."

The old man payed and shuffled off to a table on the left.

"What're you having?" James asked Jian, pulling out a sleek leather wallet. "I'll pay."

Jian's stomach tingled again. "S'fine, I can get mine."

James hummed in a non-committal way as they approached the counter. "What d'you want, Li? Hot chocolate?"

"Yes please." Liam answered with a happy nod.

"Jian?"

Jian could see the question in Kendra's eyes as they came to a stop before her. "Latte. Thanks."

James accepted that with another hum. His eyes scanned the menu for a moment before he gave Kendra a smile and easy hey and began to fire off their order; he got a flat white for himself and chocolate chip cookie for Liam (Jian declined the offer of any food).

 

"Job-- interview." Jian mumbled to Kendra as James guided Liam to a nearby table.

Kendra let out a breath. "That's not what I meant when I said you should quit."

Jian clicked his tongue. "Didn't quit. Tell you 'bout it later."

Kendra flicked her eyes to James and Liam as she locked a portafilter into her machine. "Alright."

 

Jian joined the others, taking the space beside Liam on the cushioned wall seat. The kid was digging into his cookie and swinging his legs, heels knocking lightly against wood without reaching even halfway to the floor. James sat opposite the two of them. His gaze was resting on Jian. Jian couldn't bring himself to look higher than the collar of James's expensive-looking sweater.

"D'you come here a lot?" James broke the silence with gentle ease. "You looked friendly with that worker."

Jian nodded. "Yeah. She's-- cool."

The softest breath of amusement slipped from James in response. He leant back in his chair. "So," His expression was open and his lips set in the predecessor of a smile. "I chased up one of your references; the mum of the kids you were looking after before."

Jian's stomach jumped for no reason; he knew Hailey didn't have anything negative to say about him.

James's eyes ran over Jian's features, landing and lingering - for a split-second or less - on his lips. "She's very complimentary. I almost got the feeling she didn't want me to hire you, in case she never gets you back."

Jian's cheeks warmed. He wasn't sure how to answer that.

James shifted his feet beneath the table - maybe crossing his ankles - and the toe of his shoe nudged Jian's as he did so.

Jian pulled his legs in.

"She said she only let you go cos of what's been going on." James continued, glancing at Liam and, perhaps, choosing not to be any more explicit. His gaze returned to Jian. "So the first thing I want to do is ask how you're feeling about all that; I'm only ever gonna be one phone call away, but I want to know you feel as comfortable and safe as possible and I don't want to ask you to commit to something if you have any anxieties."

Jian tugged his hoodie sleeve over his fingers. "Well." Also aware of the small body beside him, he chose to be no more explicit than James. "'M not-- nothin's happened in your neighbourhood. So..."

James watched him for a quiet minute. "Okay." He accepted. "This can be an open conversation. I know these things are scary."

Jian's heart stuttered in his chest. He nodded.

James looked to his son. "How's the cookie, Li?"

Liam paused in eating in order to lift his gaze and grin. "Really good! Daddy, do you want some?"

"I'm alright."

Liam glanced at Jian. "Jian, you want some?"

This time, Jian's heart melted a little. "S'okay. Don't like sweets much."

Liam squinted at him.

Jian snorted. "Yeah, I know."

Liam returned to his cookie. "No one's perfect."

Jian bit his lip against a smile. Sights moving back forward, he found James watching him quietly again. His heart performed another few stutters and his stomach tied itself into a knot.

James's lips curved. "I think we both like you. Right, Li?"

Liam lifted his head again, looked between James and Jian, and nodded enthusiastically.

Jian swallowed, ears prickling with heat.

"You wanna come over one night next week?" James suggested. "We can run you through Liam's routine and see how things feel."

"Yeah!" came Liam's two cents.

Jian played things a little cooler; he nodded and gave a small, "Sounds good."

 

Kendra delivered their drinks shortly after this was decided and conversation moved toward hobbies, interests and the like. Jian felt he was stiff, inarticulate and awkward, but neither father nor son seemed to mind. Liam laughed and grinned and added onto a number of things Jian said; James smiled softly as he watched them both, occasionally asking Jian further questions or making an input of his own.

 

Nearly 40 minutes drifted by before a natural conclusion was reached and James offered to drop Jian back. Jian accepted with warm cheeks and told Kendra he'd see her soon. The drive home - and James insisted he drop Jian at his flat, not just the shops where they'd picked him up - was filled again with Liam's chattering. Once pulled up before the crummy building, Jian thanked James for the lift and everything else. James offered him a gentle smile in answer and said he'd be in touch.

 

Jian shot some hoops in the shitty basketball court by his apartment complex; had some instant noodles for lunch; looked at his homework, but didn't do any; went for a run. He and his mum ate dinner together at their tiny dining table. She said he should think about getting a different job. He told her he was happy as it was. She sighed through her nose and let it go.

 

It was later, when Jian was tucked in bed and trying to sleep, that his cock grew hard. He didn't touch himself. He couldn't. Not when the pictures his brain was showing him were James bending him over; James fucking him rough; James cumming on his face; kissing his neck; holding him down; slapping his ass; pulling his hair; pumping him full. It was beyond inappropriate. He didn't remember finally slipping off. He felt dirty as soon as he woke.

Chapter 3

Summary:

James snorted quietly from the front; Jian met his eye briefly in the rearview before his cheeks began to warm again and he had to look away.

James was picking him up from school; he'd give Jian an overview of his potential responsibilities and both parties would have the chance to confirm whether or not this was the right fit. Jian sat on the curb of the lower carpark, dragging a small pebble over concrete. He was thinking about the way James – before anything else – had asked him if he felt safe, given the current climate. And, while it was a very normal and natural thing to ask, given the current climate, Jian couldn't help but be struck by the sincerity of it. It didn't feel as though James had asked out of duty or idle responsibility. It felt as though he genuinely cared; as though the comfort of a stranger was important to him before anything else proceeded. Jian watched the faint white marks being left by his pebble. His cheeks were warm. He bit the inside of his lip and threw his pebble to the side.

 

He didn't mind kindness. Not remotely. He just didn't like the way he sometimes reacted to it.

 

It was a handful of minutes later that a black Mercedes pulled up before him and Jian pushed himself to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He could see Liam was in the backseat. Jian played in his mind the action of opening the front passenger's and sitting beside James. This was not an action translated into reality, of course. Jian cracked open the rear passenger's.

James gave him a smile. "Hey Jian."

Liam gave him a beam. "Hi Jian!"

Jian slipped in and pulled the door shut. His gut fizzed and he fought tooth and claw to suppress some of the hazy nighttime imaginings he'd recently been having when they so delightfully offered to raise their heads. "Hi." He set his bag quietly at his feet and tried to return the smile to Liam, at least.

James rolled forward, following the carpark round. "You okay?" He asked Jian. "How was your day?"

Jian looked at his knees, then out the window. "S'okay." He said, gut continuing to fizz. "Just classes. 'N'-- yeah."

James hummed smoothly, coming up to the exit and flicking the indicators on.

Liam, meanwhile, sneezed beside Jian, then let out a small, "Excuse me." at the same time as his father murmured, "Bless you."

Jian thought the exchange very cute. "How's your day, Liam?" He asked; half so James didn't feel he should try to make further conversation with Jian, half because he genuinely wouldn't mind hearing about it.

Liam let out a long noise of consideration before he began. "Well." He started. "I actually really don't like fish oil."

Jian wasn't quite prepared to receive nor respond to this information. James snorted quietly from the front; Jian met his eye in the rearview before his cheeks began to warm again and he had to look away.

"Li takes a fish oil gummy every morning." he explained softly.

"Yeah and they taste horrible." Liam said. "I'm fed up."

James gave another quiet snort.

Jian bit his lip to temper a smile.

"But daddy says it's important for my brain." Liam heaved a sigh. "So I have to do it."

"Think it's good." Jian offered, gentle amusement still playing in his chest. "Buildin' up resilience; s'gonna come in handy when you have t' do worse than-- eat gummies."

"What could be worse?" Liam grumbled, just as James met Jian's eye in the rearview again.

The eye contact didn't last long – broken once more by a warm-faced Jian – and James began to slow for an orange light. "That was well put." He said, hands slipping down on the wheel as they came to a stop.

Jian's stomach jumped and his heart tripped. He swallowed. Wracked his brain for a response. Came up empty. So took a different route: "What-- else did you do t'day?" he asked Liam.

"Oh!" Liam straightened up, eyes brighter and the woes of fish oil gummies seemingly forgotten. "There was a huge spider at school!"

Jian felt himself smile and shifted his feet. "Yeah? How big?"

"Huge!" Liam insisted.

 

The majority of the remaining car ride was filled with happy spider-related buzzing. Jian's attention was only challenged when James flicked the indicators on for the final time. It was before the driveway to a house; house being an almost ill-fitting word.

 

Like all the homes that had begun to spring up as they arrived in this neighbourhood, it was big. Not as big as some of what lined these roads; for only two residents, that would pass the boundary between impressive and inane. Still, it was double-storied and held the very same air of prestige as all the others. It had a large stone chimney and was surrounded by open green space. A big tree, lush with leaves, stood beside the path leading up to the front door; it was so picture-book, Jian felt almost as though there was something not quite right. He could imagine the house as one that starred in a horror film: the perfect white family, their perfect little house and something so very, very wrong; something just able to escape definitive perception, but something that could never conceal itself entirely.

 

The garage door whirred to life and faint nerves rose in Jian's gut. James parked and killed the engine as the garage door glided shut once more.

 

As soon as the three of them were out of the car, Liam grabbed Jian's hand and led him toward a door in the back wall of the garage. "I'll give you a tour!"

Jian heard James chuckle from behind them and allowed himself to be tugged along by Liam.

 

Liam showed him his playroom and bedroom, both of which were clean, bright and colourful. There were books, toys, games, posters, figurines; it was nice to see Liam was a child who had clearly never gone without, yet Jian couldn't help but feel that same sense of unplaceable wrongness. Nothing sinister or off-putting. Just something he didn't understand, couldn't quite grasp and didn't feel entirely comfortable with. Perhaps that was what one should expect, entering a world so unlike their own. Jian was content having very little and, on the whole, he didn't feel inhibited. Yet here was a boy who had everything. Surely it was natural for there to be some small – and ultimately insignificant – disconnect.

 

Next, Liam showed him James's bedroom, the guest room and upstairs bathroom before trekking to the downstairs bathroom and James's study. All that left was the kitchen and living space; this was where James was, cutting an apple into slices and looking up to give the two boys a smile as they came in.

"All alright?" he asked, eyes dropping back to his chopping board.

"Yes. Is that just for me daddy?" Liam asked. "Cos Jian should have some too."

James hummed, finishing off the apple and lifting his gaze again. "You hungry?" He asked Jian.

"'M okay." Jian replied, watching Liam clamber onto one of the stools at the kitchen island and look at his apple slices as if trying his hand at telekinesis.

James let out a warm breath and pushed Liam's fruit toward him. "Let me know if you want anything." He said, crossing to rinse his hands. Drying them, he spoke again: "C'mere. I'll show you where I keep first aid and everything, then walk you through some stuff."

 

Jian's second tour was a lot more informative and practical; he was shown the first aid and given a basic rundown of how the kitchen was organised; was assured he had free reign of the fridge and pantry when cooking or even just fixing himself a snack; was told that Liam's toothbrush was kept in the downstairs bathroom and various other details Liam had forgivably overlooked. James then explained to Jian what Liam's routine looked like and all the things Jian was expected to take care of: meals, play, education, et cetera.

"My schedule can get really busy." James said as they returned to the kitchen. "So there are some nights I'm not home 'til eleven; it's not consistent." He leant back on the counter, eyes flicking to where his son still munched away. "I'm happy to cover any travel costs for you – Ubers or anything." He said, sights back on Jian. "I don't want you having to rely on public transport that late. You'd be welcome to stay the night if it's ever easier, too; whatever suits you best." He gave Jian a soft smile and some gently raised brows. "What d'you reckon? Anything you're not sure on?"

Jian allowed himself a few seconds to take in such a warm expression before fixing his eyes on the edge of the counter, cheeks and gut tingling. "Sounds good. 'N' if-- 'nythin' ever comes up, I can just- call you."

"Yeah, of course." James nodded. "I know I'm asking for you to give up a lot of your time; I mentioned on the job listing that pay is negotiable, so keep that in mind and think about what you're putting in. I'm happy to match what you feel that's worth."

The tingling of Jian's gut and face got a little louder. He nodded.

"Okay." James pushed off the counter. "I'll drop you home. Want a cup of tea or anything while we wait for this one?" He asked, nodding his head in the still-munching Liam's direction.

Jian followed the nod and Liam gave him a smile, eyes twinkling and apple stuck between his two front teeth. Jian felt a tiny smile tug helplessly on his lips. "S'fine." He said, glancing back to James. "Thanks."

James hummed, eyes travelling Jian's features for a moment. "Sure." He stepped back. "I'm gonna get changed." He said; he currently wore black slacks and a light blue dress shirt. Jian was doing his utmost to ignore how handsome it made him look. "Li, you ready to go after eating?"

"Yep!"

"Alright." James dropped a kiss to the kid's hair on his way toward the hall.

 

Jian settled at Liam's side once they were left alone. Liam told him he could have one of his remaining two apple slices. Jian took it with a smile and Liam began to tell him his personal rankings of fruit (mandarins were last).

 

The drive to drop Jian home wasn't as full of Liam's words as the first drive, yet the atmosphere in the car was entirely comfortable. Jian felt at ease. He thought Liam was very cute. He thought James was very kind. He thought himself very lucky.

Chapter 4

Summary:

James wondered how different it would look to the world his own head had created.

James wasn't sure what it was; where it came from; when it started. He didn't feel any intense need to know. He just knew it was there and it felt better afterwards; an itch scratched. Following this, there was a strange sensation, as if he were observing himself and wondering at an absence of emotion; wondering at the submission to impulse; wondering at the aftermath. This was an observation which felt entirely removed from intervention or judgement. An observation funnelled through curiosity, yet somehow lacking any depth of it. An observation James would allow himself to make, then tuck away and continue onwards.

 

Jian was very pretty. His eye contact was poor and his body language stiff. Liam liked him, that was obvious; bright eyes would often linger on Jian's face with a decided and instinctive breed of approval. James was not immune to finding it cute; he was not immune to finding Jian cute. He was not immune to many things killers were often thought to be. But there was something absent, he was aware of that. The way people talked about things, the way they cried or laughed about them. James always felt like he was standing outside of a closed window, watching, almost understanding, but entirely unable to touch.

 

He'd ideally been looking for a female babysitter; absentminded and preconceived notions of child safety sitting behind the preference. But as he'd not, in all honesty, been able to tell Jian's gender based solely on the name, he'd decided to contact the provided references regardless. Sweet but shy, the mother of the twins he'd recently been looking after had said. That phrase had stuck in his mind.

 

James didn't – or hadn't yet – fall in love. He grew attached. He grew invested. He grew bored.

 

But he knew what he liked. And sweet but shy sounded good.

 

Jian bit his lip every now and then; a mindless action, no doubt. James could see him chewing the inside of it – or his cheeks – when white teeth weren't digging into red skin. His ears tinged pink when James smiled at him. His throat bobbed.

 

"Okay." James said and it was clear Jian was fiddling with his hands beneath the cafe table. "This can be an open conversation. I know these things are scary." He almost enjoyed the way it felt for the words to leave him; the bringer of fear concerned with the impact it might have.

Jian broke eye contact and nodded, ears reddening. Pretty.

James let his eyes linger, then looked to his son, munching away on a cookie.

 

The cafe meeting went on and James spent nigh all of it observing Jian. He spent time replaying these observations as he and Liam drove home after dropping Jian off. He returned to replaying these observations later that night, once Liam had long been tucked in and was fast asleep; the only difference this time was that his cock was hard.

 

Jian continued to dance on the peripheries of James's focus over the following days. Dirty thoughts, yes. But other thoughts too. Thoughts of simply wanting to see him again. Watch him again. So Monday afternoon was something he looked forward to. He picked Liam up from preschool and listened with half an ear to his day. He drove to the high school Jian had said he attended. He saw him.

 

Sitting on the curb of the carpark, eyes down. Jian didn't look sad. Just alone in whatever little world that head of his had created for him. James wondered how different it would look to the world his own head had created.

 

Jian noticed the car as James rolled to a stop before him; he got up, bag slung over his shoulder and let himself – as James knew he would – into the back, not front, passenger's.

"Hey Jian." he said, eyes running over that pretty, pretty face.

"Hi Jian!" Liam chimed in.

Jian broke eye contact with James. His ears coloured. He slipped in and snapped the door shut, setting his bag by his feet and offering both of them – though only Liam got something passable for a smile – a quiet, "Hi."

 

The drive was speckled with conversation. Jian and Liam's predominantly. But James spoke now and again; met Jian's gaze in the rearview now and again; felt a slight tingle in his chest when Jian looked away now and again. He let Liam pull Jian round the house when they got back and made his own way to the kitchen to start on Liam's afternoon tea. Liam's bright voice – though the words were largely lost – carried from many of the first-floor rooms. James found himself content.

 

Liam's tour finished in the kitchen as James finished with his food.

"You hungry?" he asked Jian; upon Liam's encouragement, of course, but also of his own interest.

"'M okay." Jian answered without meeting his eye.

Liam settled himself at the kitchen island and stared at the bowl of fruit James had prepared for him.

James exhaled fondly and pushed the bowl within his reach. "Let me know if you want anything." He told Jian, moving to give his hands a quick wash. "C'mere." He said, drying them. "I'll show you where I keep first aid and everything, then walk you through some stuff."

Jian nodded to the floor with pinkening ears and pinkening cheeks.

James's eyes flittered to where his son had begun chewing thoughtfully before he took a step toward the doorway.

Jian followed.

 

He stayed quiet, only a few yeah and 'kays. But he was attentive; James could see him wordlessly trying to file away all information given to him. Earnestness. Without pretence or, it seemed, even any awareness. He simply wanted to be good. Once again, James's chest tingled. He liked Jian's face, obviously. Liked what he could make out of his body, obviously. But what he liked most was the way Jian was. Just as in the cafe, he bit and chewed his lip or the insides of his cheek; he fiddled mindlessly with his hands; he looked at James when he thought James couldn't see; he blushed. Sweet but shy. Sweet but shy and – James was aware of his ego; this wasn't that – attracted. A moth to flame, fluttering around James: intrigued and drawn in, as pulled by string, yet still unsure and skittish. James watched those red ears and knew he would play with the string. How could he not?

 

"Sounds good." came Jian's reply to James asking him how everything was sitting. "'N' if-- 'nythin' ever comes up, I can just- call you."

James's chest tingled with far more enthusiasm at that. "Yeah, of course." He responded. "I know I'm asking for you to give up a lot of your time; I mentioned on the job listing that pay is negotiable, so keep that in mind and think about what you're putting in. I'm happy to match what you feel that's worth."

Jian's blush extended, ever so faint, across his cheeks as he nodded.

The base of James's gut, now, stirred. "Okay." He pushed off the kitchen counter. "I'll drop you home. Want a cup of tea or anything while we wait for this one?" He asked, referring to his son.

Jian looked over and James watched him give said son a fractional smile in return for what Liam more generously offered him. "S'fine." He said, gaze returning for a short moment to James. "Thanks."

James let out a soft hum, allowing himself a few seconds more to look at those nigh perfect features. "Sure." He moved back. "I'm gonna get changed." He said, glancing at Liam. "Li, you ready to go after eating?"

Liam gave him a grin. "Yep!"

"Alright." James murmured, dropping a kiss to the crown of his son's head on his way past.

 

He did get changed. In between, however, he also jerked off. He hadn't explicitly planned to; it wasn't something he particularly enjoyed - quick sessions, that was, not jerking off - but as his belt had fallen open and his hands had found his fly button, he thought of Jian's soft and honest obedience; the way he'd followed James around; the way he'd focused. James stroked himself with fast, firm motions, imagining how Jian would look, sound, taste. Bent over. Held down. He came with a soft grunt as a thick tide of relief swelled through him. He leant his head back and it hit the wall with a soft thump. His fingers itched. Fleeting memories of blood; metal pressing through flesh drifted through his mind. James exhaled, pulled his head forward and pushed off the wall, moving to his ensuite.

Chapter 5

Summary:

It didn't take long for Jian to recognise how he started to feel, waiting for James to get home.

Notes:

happy new year 🫶

Liam was easy to look after. He was bright and chatty; funny; interested in so many things. Although he continued to find the luxury of the house intimidating, Jian truly did like his position within it. Time passed in quiet ease. James was often late. Only twice over the span of two weeks did he arrive home before Liam's bedtime (a time which hovered around 6pm). Most nights, he was home between nine and ten. Jian always started to feel odd once Liam was all tucked in and he had nothing further to do than wait. He'd put a on film or try to do some homework, but he was never properly able to focus. He always had half an ear pricked for the sound of tyres on the driveway; the garage door; neat footsteps.

 

James was kind. He was so kind, it made Jian's chest hurt. He always offered to pay for an Uber home (an offer Jian had taken him up on just once, when his bus had been cancelled). He always asked if Jian wanted a cup of tea or anything else before he left. It was as if it didn't even occur to him not to show an interest in Jian's wellbeing; there was no pretence nor learnt politeness behind anything he offered. It didn't take long for Jian to recognise how he started to feel, waiting for James to get home; how he started to look forward to it. It didn't take long for him to recognise this was not a feeling that he should be having.

 

It was Friday night. Just gone 10pm. Liam was long-since asleep. Jian was chewing his nails on the sofa. There was a small fire in his gut: hot and tight, but not fierce. Loud enough that Jian couldn't ever tune it out entirely. Big enough that something itched under his skin. But quiet and small at the same time.

 

The soft hum of the garage door whirring to life sounded. The fire in Jian's gut startled; looked around, as if embarrassed; then spiked. Jian swallowed hard. He put his socked feet on the floor and eyed his schoolbag, dumped by the coffee table. He supposed he should get it. Then his shoes. Then his bus.

 

The muted slam of a car door played against the backdrop of the garage door coming back down. Jian's gut twisted; almost a nice feeling, almost a nasty one. He took his lower lip into his mouth and told himself again to get his bag and shoes, ready to leave.

 

The door from the garage opened and closed. Footsteps followed. And then the door to the kitchen and living space opened and Jian's heart lost track of what it was supposed to be doing.

"Hey." came James's gentle greeting. "Okay?"

Jian glanced at him, felt heat on his cheeks and dropped his gaze to James's right shoulder. He nodded.

James smiled.

Jian chewed the inside of his lip.

James set his work bag on the kitchen island and pulled his tie loose.

Jian's gut tingled.

"Want me to get you an Uber?" James asked. "Did you eat?"

Jian nodded; he'd eaten, as usual, with Liam. "Can bus."

James let out a warm breath. "Course you can." He murmured, moving over to the pantry and opening it. Jian watched him scan the contents and a timid thought nudged its way carefully to the front of his mind.

"I can--" his voice came out stilted and unsure. James glanced over from around the opened pantry doors. Jian couldn't maintain eye contact. "-I don't mind makin' dinner f'r you." He said. "'F you ever want somethin' ready. When you--" His volume dipped. "-come home."

James didn't immediately answer, just continued to look at him.

Jian started to wish he'd kept his mouth shut; started to silently urge the sofa to swallow him whole.

One of James's hands slipped down the pantry door as he stepped back. "Yeah." He said, soft. "I'd like that."

Jian's brain fizzled happily to incompetence. He bit the inside of his lip.

James ran his eyes over Jian's face for a silent beat, then took another step back from the pantry. "You still hungry?"

Jian took a second. Took another. Cautiously removed the virtual out of service sign from over his brain. He could eat again. With James. If that's what was being asked. Which maybe wasn't. Maybe James was just making conversation. Jian considered putting the sign back on.

"I mean we could cook and eat together." James spoke when the silence had apparently stretched too long for his liking. "If you want."

"Yeah." Jian's mouth moved before his mind, though the two were very much on the same page.

"Yeah?" James echoed with a smile. "Alright. Let me get changed. Think about what you want; I'll have anything."

Jian didn't trust himself – the rate his heart was going – to do anything other than nod.

James took his bag from the counter and gave him another smile before heading toward the hallway.

 

Jian stayed on the sofa for a minute or two more, trying to let himself settle. To do this, he made a mental list:

 

A) it was inappropriate on countless levels to be attracted to James

B) it was fruitless on countless levels to be attracted to James

C) he, therefore, shouldn't be attracted to James and needed to stamp it out before it got any harder to deal with

D) he wasn't sure how to do this

E) he wouldn't quit; Liam, for one, was genuinely starting to mean something to him

F) not to mention the pay

G) he didn't think he could get away with avoiding James, either; he'd probably think something was wrong and want to help

H) the feelings weren't... big; they weren't real

I) it was just a crush

J) so maybe it was harmless

K) after all, he was only going to keep it to himself; nothing was ever going to happ-

 

"You okay?"

Jian startled, ever so slightly, and lifted his gaze from where he'd been staring without focus at his knees. James had evidently finished getting changed: simple blue jeans and a simple maroon shirt. He looked godly. Jian's gut squirmed and he scrabbled desperately for the beginning few points of his list. "Mn." James's shirt fitted him perfectly, stretching just right over the expanse of his chest. His jeans were an equally perfect fit; there was a slight bulge at his crotch. Jian resolutely did not allow his eyes to do anything other than pass fleetingly over it.

"Okay." James smiled. "What d'you want? I was thinking veggie stir fry."

Jian nodded and, finally, pushed himself to his feet. "'Kay." He moved after James into the kitchen.

"What did you have with Liam?" James asked, washing his hands in the sink before moving to get a wok from a cabinet.

Jian felt awkward and in the way. He didn't know how much use he could truthfully be; James knew what he was doing and he didn't seem too tired. In the end, Jian decided to settled on the counter, a little way down from where James placed the wok on the hob. "Chicken 'n' rice." He mumbled, eyes shifting to his socks. "Let me know what-- t' help with."

James glanced over with a soft breath of laughter. "To be honest," He said, moving to the fridge. The tone of his voice had shifted, by the barest degree; so small a degree, in fact, that Jian almost wasn't sure if it was imagined. It wasn't a shift that could be adequately described, either. But it seemed somehow softer; more intimate. Jian's stomach split in half and bolted in two separate directions. "I kinda just wanted you to stay. You don't have to do anything." James took out a bell pepper, a few chillis and a carrot. Turning to set them on the counter, he met Jian's eye.

Jian felt as though he might be steaming. His ears prickled with heat; his cheeks burnt; his stomach had split into a further 8 million pieces; and his heartbeat wasn't worth mentioning.

James broke eye contact and returned to the fridge to get some broccoli. "Sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Jian swallowed thickly. It seemed to make an almighty sound.

James considered his vegetable drawer for a moment longer. He took out a bag of bean sprouts and closed it. He met Jian's gaze again. "You okay?"

Not remotely; Jian offered a stilted nod. His brain, once it had gathered itself, began furious work dissecting James's words. They were not intended as Jian had interpreted. Of that much, he could be certain. His brain didn't seem to know where to go from there. Jian chewed the inside of his lip.

James retrieved some garlic and ginger, then moved back to the pantry for some sauces.

Jian scraped himself together and took some of the vegetables to rinse.

James, apparently having gathered all the ingredients he needed, got out a small bowl. "Liam really likes you." He said, reaching for some sesame oil. "You're nearly all he talks about."

Jian set all the rinsed veggies aside and got out a chopping board. "He's cute."

James smiled. "Yeah." He agreed. Oyster sauce was next. "I'm glad we found you."

Jian's heart – only just recovered – stuttered and stumbled. He couldn't think to answer.

James released a soft breath. "I like coming home to you." He murmured and Jian really didn't think any of this was fair. If he were able, he'd like to take out his brain and shake it.

He got out a knife and muttered, "'Kay."

James glanced over at him, then back to his bowl. He took up the dark soy sauce.

Jian started chopping carrot.

 

Conversation didn't start up again, besides a few one-off words as the two of them moved around each other. Jian made himself a tea as James started to fry everything. His mind replayed everything unhelpful James had recently spoken and Jian was beginning to feel a little like he was sinking beneath the water. It was so confusing to hear things, spoken in mindless innocence, and to give them meanings of his very own. It was like tying a knot impossible to ever unravel.

 

"Does your bus run all night?" James asked, breaking the quiet.

"Last one's at twelve." Jian answered, staring at his brewing tea.

James hummed, giving the wok before him a shake. "You're welcome to crash in the guest room if you ever need."

Jian gut churned. "Thanks."

James threw him a gentle smile.

Jian pretended not to see. His ears were prickling still.

 

James ate a full plate; Jian ate just a little. They sat side by side at the kitchen island. Jian said he'd do the dishes. James watched him with an expression Jian couldn't begin to decipher and let out a calm okay. It was as he was scrubbing the first of their plates that James, on his way past Jian, touched a thoughtless hand to his waist. The action lasted less than a second; it was simply a non-verbal excuse me. And yet Jian's entire being went hot.

 

"I'll get you an Uber." James said, getting a wine glass out. "It's late."

Jian set the plate on the drying rack with fingers that felt like they were fizzing. "S'fine."

"Jian." James sighed, pausing in uncapping a wine bottle and meeting Jian's gaze. "Please."

Jian swallowed and looked back to the sink. "S'not dangerous."

"You don't know that." James answered. "If you're not gonna do it for me, do it for Liam."

Jian took the second plate into the sink. "Maybe it's an Uber driver that's--" He stopped, suddenly not wanting to say the words aloud. Killing people. It made them a little realer; a little scarier.

James let out a small sigh and poured his wine. "Then stay the night. Me and Liam will drop you home tomorrow."

Jian's heart hiccupped. He wasn't sure if it was a smaller reaction or if the sensations were just getting old; either way, it felt the most subdued reaction of the night. His voice was quiet and his chest was tight when he said, "'Kay."

James slid the wine bottle back on the counter. "I can lend you some pyjamas."

The sensations were evidently not getting old; Jian's entire body hiccuped in response to that. His face was ablaze as he stared at the washing up. "'Kay."

James released a gentle huff of laughter and took up his wine glass. "Okay." This time, on his way past Jian, he slipped a hand into the latter's hair and ruffled softly. "Come find me when you're done;" The hand slipped out. "I'll be in my office."

Jian stomach was inside out. He set the second plate on the drying rack and listened to James's receding footsteps. Beneath all the chaos, there was a heat in the base of his gut. A heat that wasn't complicated or unknown. Arousal. Jian bit his lower lip hard and took his hands from the sink, tugging off his rubber gloves and swiping damp hands over his sweats. He fished his phone from his pocket and sent a text to his mum. He then tucked the phone away, took a steadying breath, and slipped the gloves back on.

 

This was okay. He'd ignored that heat numerous times before. He could do it again.

Chapter 6

Summary:

His gaze landed on Jian and a smile slipped effortlessly over his face. "Hey."

Notes:

sorry this was crazy late. its a lil short BUT finished my degree n taking a sem off before postgrad so gonna take it easy breezy, try get more regular updates + do lots of polishing off n editing 🙂‍↕️

The door to James's office was closed. Jian stood outside for a moment or two, gnawing his lower lip. When he stepped forward, it was in order to knock lightly; underpinning the action, his heart belted his ribcage and his gut twisted. A muffled yeah? met his ears and Jian hesitated for a moment more before pushing the door open.

 

James was sat at his desk, eyes on the left of two monitors in front of him. "All good?"

Jian swallowed and, stiffly, shut the door behind himself. "Mn."

James looked away from his work and swung in his chair to face Jian. A gentle smile rested on his face. "Wanna take a shower?" He said. "I'll make up the guest bed."

Jian nodded.

"D'you need to borrow any clothes?" James asked. "Or is it more comfortable for you to sleep in what you have?"

Jian usually slept in his boxers, a pair of loose trousers, or, sometimes, nothing at all. His tummy shifted. His ears burnt. He looked at James's socks. "Borrow."

"Alright." James stood. Crossing to the door, he touched a hand to Jian's waist to guide him gently aside. Jian's skin caught fire. James's hand came away almost as soon as it made contact. "There's a spare toothbrush in the cabinet of my ensuite." He said, pulling the door open.

Jian's gut shifted some more. "Thanks."

"Mmhm." James hummed.

 

Jian kept his eyes down and chewed absentmindedly on his lower lip as James led them to his bedroom. Jian had never been in this room before. He'd seen it, briefly, through an open door on his first occasion in this house. He'd never crossed the threshold.

 

It was far tidier and far less colourful than Liam's room. The bed was a king double, a sleek grey duvet covering it. It looked plush. There were books on a large set of shelves beside the vast window. A painting of the troubled ocean hung above the bed. A big TV, underlined with a soundbar, hung on the wall opposite. A door to the right of the bed's headboard led assumedly to the aforementioned ensuite; a set of double doors to the right of the TV led assumedly to a closet.

 

James moved to the closet as Jian lingered by the doorway. He watched James open it, take out a towel, then turn back and offer it to Jian.

"Wanna shower in here, or one of the other bathrooms?"

Jian stepped softly to accept the towel. "Don't-- mind."

James looked back to the closet with a hum. "I'll leave a change of clothes on the bed." He said, pulling open a drawer. "I'll be either in the guest room or kitchen by the time you're done." He looked over his shoulder and gave Jian a smile. "Feel free to use anything. Okay?"

Jian's heart started making a dull racket. He lowered his eyes to the lush carpet with a small nod. It felt like something was prickling, just under his skin. He swallowed, then crossed to the ensuite.

 

Like the bedroom itself, James's ensuite was sleek, clean and with an indescribable touch of personality. Jian closed the door and locked it behind himself. Snakes writhed in his gut. He stared for a while at the shower door. There was a pretty painting on the far wall: a koi pond. Jian slipped his towel on the edge of the vanity. The mirror above it was expansive and crystal clear; Jian knew James had a cleaner come once a week, but he'd never seen them. There was a toothbrush – blue – in a cup beside the sink; floss; moisturiser; styling gel; deodorant; cologne. Jian reached out and poked the cologne. He didn't recognise the brand. Didn't even know how to pronounce it. It looked expensive. Jian bit the inside of his lip and stripped.

 

The shower was far bigger than Jian's at home. On the shelf there was shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Not ones he knew. Jian turned the spray on, stepping to the side while it warmed. Cold little droplets hit his feet, ankles and shins, but took hardly any time at all to grow hot.

 

He ducked under and felt an indefinite amount of tension melt from his shoulders. For the first few seconds, he simply watched water fall on his toes, feeling warmth envelop his body and tentatively registering his heartbeat, chest and gut had all returned to normality. Jian swept his hands through his hair and lifted his face. He squinted at the shampoo, then reached for it and squeezed some onto his palm. It smelt faintly familiar; Jian caught occasional whiffs of it as James moved around him. The normality, newly settled, in his gut wavered.

 

He washed his hair and body quickly, trying to ignore the scents that danced on the boundary of recognisable and alien. He shut the water off and stepped out. The towel James had lent him was very soft and very fuzzy. It felt as if it were brand new. Jian rubbed it over his hair, roughly drying it. The mirror was steamed. He could only make out a blurred reflection of himself; it made him feel odd, so he kept his eyes away and dried the rest of his body with equally rough movements.

 

Dry, warm and now smelling like James, Jian came out of the ensuite. Like he'd said, James was not here. Like he'd said, a folded pile of clothes had been laid out on the bed. The bedroom door was closed. Jian came to a stop beside the bed and took the item of clothing on top of the pile: a shirt. It was big for Jian. Very big. Navy. Soft material. Smelt like laundry power and lingering cologne. It made his cheeks burn. Jian slipped it over his head and, given how low it finished, let the towel he'd wrapped around his waist fall to the ground. The next item was some pyjama bottoms. A classic tartan pattern: red, black and green. They had a drawstring. Jian stepped into them and, as suspected, had to pull the drawstring tight and tie a messy bow. Fabric pooled at his feet. The heat on his face was pounding.

 

Jian collected his discarded clothes and the towel and headed out. James wasn't in the guest room, but obviously had been: the bed was freshly made. Jian stood in the doorway, looking at the bed with his tummy starting to churn again. His mind had gone suspiciously quiet. Jian pulled himself away and skipped softly downstairs, depositing the towel in the laundry and coming to the kitchen.

 

James was leant on the counter, eyes on his phone. Beside him was a glass of red. Beside this – Jian's heart leapt into his throat – was a steaming mug of tea. He tightened his grip on his bundel of clothes and James, at that moment, looked up.

His gaze landed on Jian and a smile slipped effortlessly over his face. "Hey."

Jian bit the inside of his lip.

James's smile dimmed but none of the warmth departed. His eyes flicked over Jian's body. Jian imagined he looked completely ridicul- "You look cute." James murmured.

Jian's heart stopped.

"Why didn't you chuck those in the laundry?" James asked, nodding to the clothes Jian held. "I can do them tomorrow."

"S'fine." Jian said. "I'll just take them home."

James tucked his phone in his pocket, pushed off the counter and moved into Jian's space. "It's no trouble." He said, taking the small bundle from Jian and stepping past him. "Made you some tea."

Jian didn't get the chance to say thank you before James had disappeared in the direction of the laundry room. Jian ignored the racket in his body and crossed to his tea. Oolong. James didn't used to have any oolong in his home; after a small conversation they'd had in Jian's first week here – where Jian had quietly rejected an offer of both earl grey and coffee – he'd told James what he typically drank. It took him a while to register the novel appearances in James's pantry. It made his chest feel like it was compressing when he did.

 

Jian took the tea up and cupped it to his chest. Heat bled into his palms. James returned to the kitchen.

He gave Jian another smile, eyes running over him again. "They make you look a lot smaller," He said. "those clothes."

Jian didn't know how to reply to that.

James watched him for a silent moment.

Jian broke eye contact. Stared at his tea.

James moved over and bobbed down in front of Jian. Before Jian had the chance to react in any way, James's hands found the ever so long hems of Jian's pyjamas. With neat, careful motions, he folded up the right hem, then the left. Jian would bet money that his heartbeat was audible to the entire neighbourhood.

"There." James said, straightening back up and giving Jian yet another smile. "Better?"

Jian knew the tips of his ears were red. His throat was tight, gut twisting knots into knots. "Thanks."

James made a soft noise of acknowledgment and retrieved his wine. "How does a movie sound?" He asked. "Unless you're tired?"

Jian's heartbeat decided the neighbourhood wasn't good enough; surely the entire nation, now, could appreciate its efforts. "What movies-- d'you like?" He managed, eyes still not making much progress moving higher than his mug.

"It's up to you, Jian." James told him. "Whatever you want."

Jian's gaze flitted to meet James's for a fraction of a second. "Knives Out?" Desmond had recommended that to him.

James smiled. "Perfect." As he stepped back, he gave Jian's waist the gentlest – nigh incidental; unmeaning – squeeze.

Jian almost dropped his tea.

 

When James made for the lounge, Jian took two short - and, he hoped, steadying - seconds before following. 

Chapter 7

Summary:

He went hot. From head to toe.

Benoit Blanc's accent was very enjoyable; the film more broadly was fun, but that accent – for Jian, at least – was the stand out. His chest felt warm and satisfied as the credits began to roll. It had - only until the film truly captured his attention; a feat that didn't take long - been slightly hard to focus when sat beside James on the sofa. They didn't touch. James was sat with two feet on the carpet and his right elbow resting on the couch arm. Jian was sat crossed-legged. A couple of inches remained between them for the duration of the film. Jian didn't allow himself to imagine that distance lessening for any reason.

 

James didn't immediately move nor speak as the film ended, just watched the screen with the faintest of knots in his brow. Jian didn't know if that meant he'd disliked it; didn't know how to ask.

So he didn't, he just reached for his mug and gestured to James's wine glass. "Want me t' wash that or you havin' more?"

James's eyes dipped to the empty glass then, finally, to Jian and he gave a soft smile. "Leave it, thanks."

Jian felt his cheeks prickle and his stomach shift and looked away. He didn't give an answer, just took his mug to the kitchen. With half an ear, he listened to James stop the movie and assumedly turn off the TV. Warm water bled into his hands. Gentle footsteps grew closer. Jian set the mug on the drying rack. James stopped a little way down from him and set his glass on the counter with a muted noise. He reached for the wine which he'd left out earlier, gaze on where Jian was drying his hands.

He paused, for less than a moment, in uncapping the wine, then resumed and looked away from Jian. He spoke very softly. "You're such a good boy."

Jian--

 

-he went hot. From head to toe. Boiling hot. Heat thrumming on his face, blood pounding in his ears kind of hot. Gut tightening, cock stirring kind of hot. Melting into a puddle on the floor kind of hot. Wanting to bash his head against the sink kind of hot.

 

He couldn't answer. Had no words and no voice. He just took a tiny step back.

James recapped the wine after filling his glass, apparently entirely unaware he'd just caused Jian's brain to abandon him forever. "Did you find a toothbrush?" He asked.

Jian fixed his eyes on the pristine kitchen tiles and absentmindedly began to play with the hem of the shirt he wore, twisting his fingers in it. He shook his head.

"They're on the right side of the vanity cabinet."

Jian nodded. His heart was tripping over itself, mind lagging behind and hitched solely on you're such a--

 

Jian bit his lip and took another step back. He still couldn't lift his gaze. All he could do was mutter, "G'night."

James's night was far smoother, far softer and far more grounded in reality.

Jian turned tail.

 

He found an opened pack of four toothbrushes, with three left, right where James had said they'd be. He took the red one. Brushed his teeth with his sights fastened to the corner of the mirror and nowhere else. His face still burnt. His gut still churned. His ears still replayed those five innocent words.

 

Jian wasn't sure what to do with the toothbrush once he'd finished. He didn't want to put it in the cup beside James's. He didn't want to see what that looked like. So he left it beside the sink, flicked off the light and made his way to the guest room. The lights remained on downstairs. He wondered when James usually went to sleep.

 

Jian drew the curtains and slipped into bed. Still his heart thumped. He rolled onto his front, tucked his face into clean, fresh-feeling pillows and tried desperately to think of nothing but getting a good night's rest.

 

Time lost its meaning and Jian couldn't tell if he'd only just settled down or it he'd been settled down for hours when he lost the battle; heat flickered in his gut and his cock started to harden. Jian dug his teeth into the inside of his cheek.

 

His heart beat out of time. He could smell James's cologne, stuck to the shirt he wore. He very, very nearly wanted to cry. Meaningless minutes tiptoed by. Jian's left hand dipped under his shirt and moved down. His fingers paused on the bow of his drawstring. His throat clicked. His hearted pounded. Jian pulled it free.

 

He rolled onto his back, pushed his pyjama pants down and gripped the base of his dick. A quiet, shallow breath slipped from him. He screwed his eyes shut, ignored the thing that was hissing in his chest and started to work his cock. Tight, slow strokes. Heat built and built. Pre started to leak from his tip. Jian's heart got faster, his breathing got shallower and his strokes got needier. All it was, playing in his mind beneath the hazy pleasure, was you're such a good boy. It was all he could hear. Filling his head. Allowing no room for anything other. A statement so honest, yet so removed from what Jian had done with it.

 

His hips bucked into his fist and the smallest of moans crept from his throat. He rubbed his thumb to the underside of his cockhead and felt how wet he was. Pressure was mounting in his groin. His movements began to lose proper rhythm. His mind scrabbled to catch a sudden rush of thoughts: James's lips on his neck, fingers in his ass, cum in his throat.

"Mmng." Jian turned his head to the side with a breathy noise, cock pulsing.

James fucking him slow, deep. Holding him down. Telling him how good he was.

Jian's balls drew tight, molten heat burst inside of him and his cock spurted cum. "Fuck." He stroked himself through it with his chest rising and falling rapidly. Hardly a second after the orgasm faded did guilt and disgust burst within him like rotten fruit on the tongue.

 

There were no tissues in the guest room. Jian couldn't think of a time he'd felt more unclean. He lay in soft self-loathing for as long as he thought was appropriate, then got to his feet. He pulled the pyjama pants up and took himself to the upstairs bathroom, being as silent as he could manage and using his clean hand on the doors. His gut stuttered when he saw the downstairs lights were still on; James was still up. There was no sound of TV. No sound at all. Jian ignored the claws in his chest and assumed James must be back in his office.

 

He left the bathroom lights off. He didn't want to look at himself. He washed his hands and used toilet paper to clean his cock and what had rubbed off on his pants. No, not his pants. James's pants. Jian bit his tongue – hard – and flushed the loo.

 

Returning to bed, he stripped off his shirt so the smell of cologne wouldn't make itself so known. He stuck his head under the pillows and tried to quieten his mind. Vicious feelings gnawed within him. Jian tried to let them be; let them play out until they were done. It hurt. But he didn't know what else to do.

 

It was impossible to say how much later it was that sleep, at last, started to press down on him. Reality lost its clarity. The faintest of noises sounded. The garage door, maybe. Jian couldn't tell; didn't care; let himself be pulled deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. Another noise. The vague purr of an engine. Jian's body felt both impossibly weightless and impossibly weighted. The garage door again. Silence. Thick night. Sleep.

Chapter 8

Summary:

Jian picked up his mug and his phone and said, very quietly, "Thanks."

It was light when Jian cracked his eyes open, body heavy. He turned his face into his pillow and allowed himself a few seconds longer. Memories of the night before – of what he'd done – pushed themselves to the surface of his mind. Jian rolled over. He swallowed. A few seconds trudged past. Jian swallowed again and pushed himself up. He picked James's previously discarded shirt from the floor, swallowed for a third time, and slipped it over his head. He crossed to the windows and opened the curtains. The garden was bathed in sweet sunlight. Jian couldn't tell what portion of the morning they were in, only that it was neither very early nor very late. He traced his nail over the windowsill. Smooth, unblemished paint. No cracks. No bloating. Nothing. Pristine.

 

Jian stepped back, grabbed his phone from the night table and made for the door. His pyjama pants had come undone from where James had rolled them up last night. Jian bobbed down to refold them before heading out. His cheeks began to warm as he did.

 

There were voices from downstairs as Jian came onto the landing. A low, calm one. A happy, bright one. Jian started chewing the inside of his lip and his tummy shifted indistinctly as he started to move down the stairs.

 

Liam was sitting at the kitchen island. James was in front of the stove. There was a pan on the stove; an omelette in the pan. A steaming cup of coffee to James's right. A glass of milk before Liam. James glanced over as Jian came into the doorway. Soft smile. Fond eyes. Jian's body ached.

"Morning." James hummed, returning focus to the breakfast he was making.

Before Jian could answer, Liam chimed in: "Jian!"

Jian gave Liam a small smile and felt stiff, like he was taking up space which wasn't meant for him.

"D'you like omelettes?" James asked, stepping away from his pan and moving to get out three plates.

Jian had no pockets to put his hands in as he instinctively wanted. He nodded.

James glanced over again. "Relax." He said softly. "You want a tea or anything?"

"I need to go to the bathroom." Liam announced, hopping gracelessly from his seat. "Excuse me."

James's lips twitched in response to his son's good manners.

Jian, awkwardly, slipped his phone on the side, then moved to the cupboard where the mugs were kept. Liam's little feet pattered off. Jian thought the air changed quality – became tighter, as if electricity lay fizzing just beneath – but told himself it was only in his head. He set the mug he'd retrieved beside the kettle; there was enough water within it, so he flicked it on.

James slid the pan's current omelette onto the first plate. It was a small omelette; James slipped it onto the kitchen island beside Liam's milk. "You look really cute." He murmured, returning to the hob. "Hair all messy."

Jian's heart flipped several million times. His ears burnt. He dug his teeth into his lip. He put an oolong teabag into his mug.

James began making a second, larger, omelette. "Sleep alright?"

Jian's heart continued to race; his ears to burn. He nodded and, finally, managed to make some noise too: "Mn."

"Tomato and basil okay?" James asked. "I have chorizo too if you want that."

"Tomato 'n' basil's good." Jian said.

James hummed.

Jian retrieved his phone and unlocked it. The kettle boiled. He had a message from Kendra; it was a link. Jian tapped it and, as it loaded, poured his tea. Looking back to his phone, his next words left him without thought nor permission: "Oh my god."

James looked over. "What?"

Jian swallowed hard. His gut had just dropped right out of his body. The link was to an article:

 

Fifth Babysitter Found Stabbed to Death

 

Jian felt a muscle in his jaw jump as he looked at the picture beneath the headline. A young black girl, beaming. He slid the phone on the counter so James could read it himself and Jian wouldn't have to say anything.

 

James read the headline with a slightly drawn brow, but an otherwise far more contained and mature reaction. He didn't move to scroll through the article, just gazed at the headline and photo like Jian had done.

"That's not too far from here." he finally said.

Jian took his phone and locked it.

James watched him. "Are you alright?"

Jian wasn't sure. Before he could decide, small footsteps grew louder and louder.

"Yummy! Thank you daddy." Liam said, returning to his seat and discovering with great approval that his breakfast was waiting.

James gave him a smile over his shoulder.

Jian chewed the inside of his cheek.

James resumed cooking. "Let me know if you need to talk." He murmured. "Anytime."

Jian picked up his mug and his phone and said, very quietly, "Thanks."

 

He sat beside Liam and tried to give his brain other things to consider than a young life cut short. James soon set an omelette before Jian. Liam yapped about the life cycle of frogs. The omelette was nice: warm, flavourful, comforting. James joined them shortly with one of his own. Jian stayed quiet, except to acknowledge and respond to Liam here and there. James did more talking; more acknowledging and responding. He was sitting on Jian's left. Jian could feel the heat of his body. He picked his way through his breakfast and couldn't untangle the nasty, twisting lump of shit in his chest.

 

He did the dishes when they were all finished, despite James telling him he didn't need to and Liam asking him to play outside; Jian sort of ignored the former and told the latter he'd join when he was done. Liam raced out to the garden in cheerful innocence. James lingered. He put the coffee machine on, then glanced at Jian. Jian pulled on rubber gloves as the sink filled with warm water.

 

James let out a nigh inaudible breath and turned to lean against the counter. "Please tell me if you're okay or not."

Jian's throat clicked. His chest flinched. He understood why James cared – he was kind – but it was so endlessly frustrating. "S'just." He shut the tap off. "Never nice t' see. Think 'bout her fam'ly. 'Bout how-- scared she prob'ly was. How much it hurt. I don't know 'f they leave them t' bleed out or- 'f it's instant or-- 'n' they're just. Kids."

James hummed softly. "Do you feel safe?"

Jian's stomach lurched. "They've all-- been girls so far 'n' I-- dunno 'f that-- but." He stared at the sink's bubbles. Did he feel safe? "I dunno."

James pushed off the counter. He stepped into Jian's space and slipped a hand through his hair. Jian's body went rigid and hot. James's eyes followed his hand and he apparently started to tidy Jian's bed hair. His fingers felt nice, threading through strands. Jian couldn't breathe. James's hand came out and he seemed – for a fraction of a fraction of a second – to intend to touch Jian's cheek or jaw. But didn't. He lowered the hand entirely and instead caught Jian's eye. "I want you to feel safe." He said.

Jian's face was aflame. His heart was set to beat itself to death. He didn't know what...

James's eyes flicked over Jian's features. His voice grew softer. "You've started to mean a lot to me."

Jian couldn't hear past the way his heart was hammering. He didn't...

"And to Liam." this statement felt like an afterthought. "Jian, I-"

"-daddy! Jian! Look at this snail I found!"

James exhaled through his nose and stepped back, no sooner than Liam had arrived, racing, in the kitchen.

 

He held up his palm eagerly. A garden snail lay upon it, tucked into its shell. Jian wasn't in any state to admire it. His brain was refusing to do anything other than stutter.

"Wow." James hummed, giving Liam a smile. "Very pretty shell." He moved back to the coffee machine; his coffee sat steaming beneath it. "It's probably a bit stressed you took it from it's environment though, bub." He picked up his mug and leant back on the counter. "So just remember to put it back where you found it."

"Uh huh." Liam answered with no slight preoccupation, gazing with wonder at the little creature he held. "Man, maybe I'd like to be a snail." He mused.

That made Jian smile. Just a little. The way it tugged at his lips felt like the sun peeking out from between the clouds.

"I'll put it back." Liam nodded, then lifted his sights to Jian. "You're gonna come play when you're done, right?"

Jian nodded.

Liam beamed. "Good!" And then he was ducking back out of the kitchen.

 

Silence settled.

 

Jian reached for the pan. James ran a hand through his hair. Jian started scrubbing.

James breathed out. "Would you like to be a snail?" He asked. It was a touch halfhearted, but it broke the anxious atmosphere surrounding Jian like a wind scattering mist.

He couldn't help a soft, single huff of laughter. When he glanced over at James, he was met with a gentle smile and dully dancing eyes. His heart hiccuped and he looked back to the sink. "Might be easier."

It was James, now, who let out a single huff of laughter. "Yeah." He agreed. "It probably would."

Jian swallowed.

James drank his coffee.

Jian set the pan on the drying rack.

"Eat with me." James said after a moment. "Not with Liam."

Jian's gut jumped.

"Dinner, I mean." James added. "I want you to eat with me when I get home from now on."

Jian's body went through the entire pathetic charade again: heart hammering, face burning, chest tightening and so on. And yet, against all odds, he was able to reply: "Okay."

"Okay." James echoed. "I'll be in my office."

 

Jian took his lip into his mouth once James had left the kitchen. He felt a little dizzy. He felt a little...

 

His throat bobbed. He grabbed a plate. It didn't matter what he felt. That's not what this was.

Chapter 9

Summary:

Jian stared at the kettle and his stomach fizzed.

Jian went for a run after James and Liam dropped him home, just gone midday. He never usually ran before 5pm. But he did today. Because he didn't know what else to do. Because there was this tight, burning, itching feeling inside of him and he couldn't let it out; couldn't look at it; couldn't do anything with it.

 

His mum had left for her shift by the time he came back. Jian moped about the apartment for a while, opening the pantry door only to shut it and gnawing on the inside of his lip. His mind, now and again, would try and draw his attention to the conversation – an ill-fitting word – he and James had shared in the kitchen after breakfast. Yet, every time, Jian's chest twisted and tightened and he vehemently looked the other way.

 

He knew what his mind was trying to show him.

 

Jian, I--

 

A cliché, romance-movie line.

 

And Jian knew his mind was wrong. He knew he liked James; thought about him every other second; he knew that distorted his reality, if only a little.

 

Jian, I'm grateful you look after my kid so well.

 

Jian, I think I'm paying you too much.

 

Jian, I--

 

-nothing. It wasn't real, it didn't matter. Full stop.

 

Jian filled the kettle and flicked it on, movements heavy but not harsh. His throat tightened. James was almost certainly straight, anyway. Not to mention that Jian was a child, standing beside him. He rubbed his nose and pulled out his phone. He reopened the article Kendra had sent him this morning and, this time, actually read it.

 

17 years old. Stabbed five times, variously over her torso. Cause of death hypovolaemic shock leading to multiple organ failure. 17 years old. Babysitting her cousins. No evidence of sexual assault. 17 years old.

 

A gentle nausea settled in Jian's gut as he closed the article and locked his phone.

 

He'd heard about a mother tiger giving birth to two cubs. One was stillborn. So she killed the other; raising a single cub wasn't worth it. That had made a similar, though far milder, feeling fill his gut. There was no comparison, either. Nothing beyond the fact that animals were driven by instinct. All animals, even ones with societal morals to supposedly take into consideration.

 

Jian watched the kettle.

 

He thought about what it would take for him to end a human life. It wasn't a thought he could grasp with meaning. But he thought, vaguely, about how his own life would have to be in very real danger; his mother's life; Desmond's; Liam's. He wondered if, once he had ended one life, something would shift within him. He thought about addiction. One sip. One glass. One bottle. More. He thought about the times he felt so sad, and so dislocated from the world around him, that he was hardly aware of what had transpired over the course of his day, or week, or however long the feeling lasted. He thought about sleepwalking. He thought about so many blurry, unfinished things and all the while that gentle nausea sat in his gut.

 

The kettle boiled and Jian poured his tea. He was grateful for one thing, though, and that was that this killer was not targetting female, working-class immigrants. Jian wasn't sure what he would do if he was scared of his mother leaving the flat; wasn't sure what he would do if she never came home. He felt selfish for allowing this feeling to pass through him.

 

* * *

 

Liam released a noise of pleased satisfaction. Jian couldn't help smiling. They were in the garden, planting sweet peas. Liam was currently patting soil gently back over the last of the seeds they'd sown.

"Happy?"

Liam patted the soil a little more, then sat back and nodded.

Jian gave him another smile and reached for the watering can he'd filled earlier. "'Kay." He poured a generous amount of water over the first half of their seeds, then handed the lightened watering can to Liam so he could do the rest.

"How long 'til they grow?" Liam asked.

Jian took the empty can from him. "I dunno." He reached for the packet of seeds and skimmed the back. "One or two weeks."

Liam made a noise of acknowledgement, eyes still settled on the earth before them.

Jian watched the side of Liam's face and felt the inclination to pet his hair. He might have, too, were his hands not covered in dirt. It must be nice to be so untouched by the nasty parts of the world. It must be hard, as a parent, trying to balance that with easing your child into a reality that was, in pockets, very nasty indeed. And then Jian registered that thought and felt ashamed for having it.

 

Because here was a boy who had no mother. Jian didn't know if she had left or died. He didn't know if one was worse than the other. But he did know she wasn't around. And he knew that hurt.

 

Jian swallowed. "Let's go inside?"

Liam looked up and nodded, then got to his feet.

Jian followed suit, taking the seeds and watering can with him to deposit in the small wooden cabinet where the gardening things were kept.

 

They washed their hands side by side in the downstairs bathroom. The garage door sounded, just as Liam was drying his. Liam's face lit up and he was racing out of the bathroom before Jian could even react. Jian ignored his heart fluttering and his gut jumping and busied himself with drying his own hands. Liam's bright voice drifted down the hall. The low timbre of James's wasn't far behind. Jian gave himself a second, then headed out.

 

The sight that greeted him in the kitchen was a sight that hit him – rather violently – in the chest: James held a chattering Liam to his hip and was listening to the nonstop flow of noise with gently curved lips as he inspected the bowl of grapes Jian had earlier left out. It was a sight so domestic, so comfortable, so clearly underpinned with love, that Jian's chest actually ached.

 

James glanced up, after dropping a grape into his mouth. He smiled. "Hey."

Jian flushed. "Hi."

"Down we go, bud." James murmured and lowered Liam gently back to solid ground.

Jian moved deeper into the kitchen and, predominantly to keep his hands busy, filled the kettle with a view toward making himself some tea. "Should I go home or..." He trailed off.

"Stay for dinner." James both finished his sentence and answered his question. He gave Jian another smile before Liam was tugging him, by the hand, out to the garden for a look at the sweet peas.

Jian stared at the kettle and his stomach fizzed.

 

He played a few games of pairs with Liam while James, assumedly, did some work in his home office. As it neared 5pm, however, Jian thought he should make a start on dinner. Liam wanted pasta; Jian told him he'd check with James and left him settled in front of the TV with an episode of Bluey newly begun.

 

The door to James's office was closed. Jian ignored the way his throat tightened and knocked softly. A hum answered him. Jian pushed the door open. James, as could only be expected, sat at his desk. One of his monitors revealed work; the other, and the one James currently looked at, revealed a news website. Jian shut the door quietly behind himself and looked away from that second monitor. He recognised the photo in the article. A young black girl, beaming.

"You alright?" James asked, supposedly finishing his sentence before turning in his chair to face Jian.

Jian nodded. "Pasta okay?"

"For dinner?" James said. "Sure."

Jian nodded again. He'd settled his eyes on the right corner of the desk. "You-- wanna eat with Liam?"

"Up to you." James said. "We can eat later if you'd prefer."

A lone, sluggish butterfly flapped through Jian's gut. "With Liam."

James hummed. "Okay."

Jian's gaze flicked to the news story James had open. It was a fleeting glance. "You-- worried?"

James let out a long breath and leant back in his chair a little. "I don't know if that's the right word; it's complicated."

Jian nodded for a third time. He had planned for this to be a very quick chat; in and out. But, somehow, he didn't want to leave. He nibbled the inside of his lip. He didn't know how to explain why he wasn't leaving.

James crossed his ankles. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

No. Not remotely. Jian didn't know how that would make him feel. He shook his head.

James made a gentle sound of acknowledgement. "Do you wanna talk about anything else?"

Jian's eyes found his own socks. His brain seemed to have made a conscious choice to close itself off to him. Perhaps that's why he said it:

 

"Think 'bout you-- a lot."

 

There was, following this statement, an indefinite period during which Jian registered what he'd said. James didn't immediately answer. Jian's gut went ice cold and he stared at his socks, scrabbling desperately for a way to salva-

 

"I think about you a lot too." it was spoken with impossible gentleness. Jian's gut turned horridly; his heart ricochetted in his chest; his brain continued to ignore him. James spoke again, just as gentle. "Almost all the time, actually."

Jian was vaguely conscious of raising his head; anything further was too much and entirely beyond him.

James ran his eyes over Jian's features. His expression wasn't nameable: care; appraisal; caution; patience. He wasn't smiling, but there was warmth. "C'mere."

Jian couldn't breathe. He moved.

 

He crossed to where James sat and stilled, keeping a good few inches between them. James took in the space Jian had left, then exhaled faintly through his nose and stood. This action allowed him to halve the distance. Jian's heart burst. Awfully. James lifted a gentle hand to Jian's face and – Jian couldn't even begin to describe what his heart did now – featherlight fingers traced his jaw.

His eyes followed the action. "What do you think about?"

Jian couldn't respond. Couldn't think to respond. Couldn't hardly hear the words in order to make a start.

James's eyes remained trained on his fingers. "I think about things I shouldn't." His voice was lowered; intimate. Jian started to wonder if he was going to either cry or vomit. James's fingers stilled, just under Jian's chin. He applied the smallest pressure and guided Jian's face upward. Jian's throat clicked; he felt rather than heard it. James's brow was, by the barest degree, drawn. "Think about..." His thumb stroked over skin. His voice was now even quieter. He didn't finish. He dipped down and he touched their lips together. Jian's world went deadly quiet. Then, an eruption of noise.

Chapter 10

Summary:

Jian fastened his gaze to his cooking and ignored the heat dancing on his cheeks.

Warm. Smooth. The soft prickle of facial hair. Jian couldn't breathe. Blood thundered in his ears. His chest struggled to contain his heart. It was painful. Tight. Hot. Loud. Too much. The world didn't spin, didn't reel, it lurched. With sickening, drunken movements, as if Jian were aboard a ship in a dreadful storm. A hand slipped to hold his waist. The storm eased, by the smallest tincture. James's hand was firm, but nothing more.

 

It was impossible to say how long the kiss lasted. It was impossible to say if Jian even returned it. His mind was making an extraordinary amount of sound, yet Jian couldn't access any of it. All he knew was, at some point, James drew back.

"Are you okay?"

Jian heard the question, struggled to interpret it and had no answer anyway. He didn't comprehend taking a step back. He did comprehend James's hand slipping from his waist.

"Jian?"

Jian's throat clicked. His face felt white-hot. "I--" The word elbowed its way from his mouth, grew confused as soon as it had done so, and bolted. Jian's teeth dug lightly into his lip and he lifted his eyes to James's face. "-I need t'-- make dinner."

James watched him with an expression that was hard to pin under one heading. Patience was too particular; gentleness too quotidian; caution too extreme; care too much. He spoke with a voice that matched the expression meticulously. "Sure."

Jian's teeth went back into his lip. Harder. His eyes flicked to the monitors. He stared at the smiling dead girl for what might have been an entire hour. The tips of his fingers tingled as if a buzzing energy hummed within them, trying to find a way out. "D'you--" Jian wasn't thinking. Obviously. Such a sentence hardly needed to be given form. "-think it's more scary t'-- t' be someone who has t'- who-- to be a killer or-" Jian's mind was far beyond his grasp; a reclusive writer who'd locked themselves away silently and secretly until the work was done. "-or to be a killer's son or dad or-- husband 'n' t'-- realise what- what you loved wasn't..." His voice trailed off and, finally, his eyes slipped from the article James had been reading. He registered the question he'd just asked and embarrassment cut through his chest.

James was quiet.

Jian thought it would be horrifying – so horrifying – to live with memories of broken flesh and crumpling bodies. He thought the sickness and pain of learning a loved one had destroyed lives would never go away. He didn't know which scared him more.

"It's impossible to know what the mind of a killer feels like." James began. "But if that were me, I don't think I would be scared." He said, gently drawing Jian's eyes to meet his own. "It'd just be the way I was." His sights travelled Jian's features. "I think most people would find it a lot harder to reconcile the disturbing actions of people they loved."

Jian felt like his body was made up of twine, tangled into so many impossible knots and yet still tangled more. His throat clicked. He didn't want to continue this conversation. He didn't know where it had come from. He didn't know what had just happened. He didn't know where to go, what to say. He didn't know. "I-- 'm really- confused."

James let out a smooth, soft noise and stepped closer; into Jian's space, yes, but without crowding him. A warm had was lifted to Jian's cheek. The touch was light. His eyes followed the movements of his thumb as he grazed the skin beneath Jian's right eye. "That's okay." He said. "It's natural." His hand shifted and his thumb came to brush Jian's chin. Then it came away completely. How strange that Jian could still feel it, even as he watched James lower the arm back to his side. "Stay after dinner. We can talk once Liam's put to sleep."

Jian nodded, eyes on James's collar.

James's lips curved softly. He leant down and pressed a light kiss to Jian's hair.

Jian felt it as if a brick hurled at him. It was with incredible stiltedness and astounding awkwardness that he muttered, "'Kay." and, at long last, managed to make his way out of James's office.

 

He stood for a moment in the hallway and tried to wait for the earth to settle. His heart beat tight and fast. He gnawed the inside of his lip. Then he took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen.

 

Liam was still happily sat on the sofa. He didn't look over at Jian coming back; didn't react at all; was entirely absorbed in his show. Jian rubbed his nose with a forearm he couldn't feel and started on a pasta sauce.

 

James came out at some point. He didn't acknowledge Jian beyond a mild smile – something Jian was unable to return, owing to his body going hot and rigid – simply dropped beside his son and wrapped an arm around him. Jian fastened his sights to his cooking and ignored the heat dancing on his cheeks.

 

They ate together at the dining table. Jian kept quiet. Liam talked about bugs. James listened with affection sitting soft on his face, occasionally asking something or commenting on his son's varied insights. Jian did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen once they'd all finished. A quiet churning began to rise in his gut as he did so. While it remained muted, it grew so unbearably intense. James and Liam put on another episode of Bluey. Jian bit small pieces from the inside of his lip. The feeling in his gut spiked, randomly and just once, before receding again. He rinsed the cloth he'd been using to wipe down the counters, then glanced at the sofa. His throat tightened and he looked away. Put the kettle on and stared at his socks.

 

He stayed in the kitchen with a cup of tea. When the episode was over and Liam padded over to ask if Jian would help him brush his teeth, he agreed without finding himself very capable of meeting Liam's eye. He sung happy birthday under his breath – only upon Liam's request, of course – three times, then let Liam spit and rinse and helped him wipe his face. He then handed the kid over to James and bid him a fairly inelegant goodnight. James scooped Liam up to carry. He met Jian's eye as he did so. The ghost of a smile - reassuring - passed over his lips. Jian's throat clicked.

 

It was quiet once James's footsteps had ceased. Jian filled a glass of water. Gazed at it for several seconds. Felt too nervous to drink. The churning of his gut had grown a lot louder and a lot harder to bear. He took a sip of water and found it didn't help in the slightest. He set the glass down on the side. His palms were sweaty. He wiped them over his sweats and chewed his lip some more. His mind seemed as though it were holding its breath. And when James's footsteps sounded anew from upsets, it seemed to inhale very harshly.

 

James returned to the kitchen with easy movements and no words; he looked at Jian, almost smiled, then got himself a wine glass. Jian couldn't begin to understand why a tiny part of him suddenly wanted to cry.

 

James uncapped a bottle of red and filled his glass in continued silence. Setting it down, he looked at Jian again and said, "Where d'you wanna do this?"

Jian's cheeks burnt. He didn't know what this was.

James watched him, then glanced to the side. "I want you to be more comfortable." He said. "So I'm asking if you wanna go somewhere we can close a door; somewhere we can sit down." His gaze returned to Jian. "Whatever you think would help."

And now Jian's chest started to send out this almighty ache. He swallowed hard. "Your-- office."

James ran his eyes over Jian's face. "Okay." He said softly. "Let's go."

Chapter 11

Summary:

James's hand – and it was impossible to say with certainty – might have tightened on Jian's nape. "Touched yourself?"

Jian was first over the office's threshold; James closed the door as he followed, watching Jian drop awkwardly onto the small sofa against the righthand wall. He stood for a moment, eyes on Jian, before crossing to take the chair at his desk, slipping his wine on the surface. Jian's heart wasn't beating fast, it was just sore and bloated. His stomach was curdled. Skin hot and cold. Body heavy and light. Unpleasant, uncertain. It felt very quiet; the kind of quiet that passes into the physical.

 

James sat with his feet on the floor, knees parted and hands resting on his lap. He watched Jian for a moment or two, perhaps waiting for him to say something, before he broke the quiet: "I really like you." he said, soft and sincere and – speaking only of the effect it had on Jian – utterly catastrophic.

Jian couldn't react. Something in his mind shattered with a muted crack and he just stared at his socks, wondering if his body might tear itself to shreds.

James continued. "I want you to understand that and what it means."

At this, Jian flicked his eyes up, throat tight and face steaming; James's expression was entirely genuine: open and gentle, yet serious. Jian dug the thumb nail of his left hand into the pointer finger of his right.

James's eyes dipped, catching the motion, and lingered. "I don't want to make you anxious or uncomfortable." He said, eyes rising again. "I just wanna spend time with you."

Jian swallowed. His heart was now quite definitely beating fast.

James leant back and ran one hand over perfect hair. "I know this is unconventional."

Jian swallowed again. Chewed his lower lip for a second. Then tried to string a sentence together. "I'm--" His voice was small and his eyes had returned to the floor. "-'m not anxious cos 'f-- 'n' 'm not uncomfortable. I just..."

James's gaze travelled Jian's face. "Do you trust me?"

Jian nodded, short and disjointed but clear in its meaning.

"Okay." James accepted. "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

Jian picked off a few pieces from the inside of his lip. There was a lot he didn't know; didn't understand; found confusing. But there was no question. Just a feeling, snarled and tangled. "Why-- do you like me?" It was a stupid and juvenile response; he didn't know he'd even meant to ask, his mouth had simply taken it upon itself.

James released a soft breath and the tips of his lips curved. "Why do you like me?"

Jian lifted his eyes again, this time in order to scowl.

James's smile grew. He looked to the side for a moment and answered upon looking back. "It's not something that's easily put into words." His smile had faded, but the effect of it upon his eyes remained. "It's just there."

Jian returned to chewing his lip. "So what... d'you want-- what am I meant t' do? F'r you."

The smile now faded from James's eyes and a frown flickered over his brow. "I'm not asking you to-" He cut himself off and looked at Jian in silence for a moment. "-this isn't about you doing anything for me."

Jian's cheeks prickled with something very like shame. "That came out wrong, I just--" He'd not meant to imply-- "-I've never- done this. Sorry."

"Don't apologise." James crossed his ankles and gave Jian a fractional smile of reassurance that – somewhere in the mess – received a response from low in Jian's gut; unconventional was one word, yes, inappropriate another. "Can you tell me what you want?"

No. Jian dug the toe of his left sock lightly into the carpet. "Like bein'-- with you." Stupid and juvenile, again.

Yet James did nothing but accept it without judgement or irritation. He let out a soft hum. "Then that's all this needs to be."

Jian flicked his eyes back up, throat closing for no reason.

James looked so nice; so calm, so patient. He gave Jian another small smile and lifted his eyebrows, as if to ask sound okay?

Jian's cheeks burnt. He nodded.

James exhaled softly. "Please relax, Jian."

Jian stopped fiddling with his hands and, instead, stuffed them into his hoodie pocket. "'M tryin'."

James returned to watching him.

Jian felt like his body was on the cusp of splintering.

 

"Want me to call you a ride?" James broke the novel silence.

Jian's chest panged and his gut fell sharply at that. Disappointment, keener than he'd ever felt. He couldn't, straight away, think of a response. He didn't need to.

"You're welcome to stay." James added and Jian wondered how visible his disappointment had been. "I'm just asking."

Jian pulled a hand from his pocket in order to rub a forearm over his nose. "D'you--" Something churned within him: loud, messy and convoluted. It was without permission that his voice continued and it went violently quiet once he finished. "-wanna fuck me?"

James said nothing.

Jian's body abruptly returned to noise. Impossible noise: sharp panic; festering shame; hot embarrassment; confusion; stupidity; regret; frustration. "Fuck, I didn't--" He couldn't think and he'd never felt this way before. Too big. Too intimidating. He almost recognised the lump in his throat and prickle of his eyes, but they were difficult to truly appreciate amongst everything else whirling within him. Jian covered his face with his hands. It was so frighteningly loud.

 

He didn't hear James's movements; he comprehended them only via the warm hands wrapping around his wrists and gently tugging Jian's hands from his face. James had stood, crossed to the couch and bobbed before it. He let Jian's wrists go, once his face was no longer hidden, and lifted his right hand to cup Jian's cheek.

"Please listen to me, Jian," he said with painful tenderness. "nothing you say, nothing you do, nothing, could be wrong. If you want to ask me something, ask it. If you want to tell me something, tell me." His thumb brushed the space below Jian's eye; very nearly but not quite damp. "I know this might feel overwhelming. But I'm right here. All I want is to know you're happy."

Jian started to cry.

 

James let out a soft breath and moved to sit beside him, guiding Jian into an embrace and stroking a firm hand through his hair. He didn't tell Jian to stop; he nosed the crown of his head, murmured it's okay and let him cry. At some point, Jian ran out of tears. His cheeks itched and his nose ran. James's sweater smelt nice. His body was warm. Jian sniffled and pressed himself just a little closer. James nosed the crown of his head again.

Eventually, Jian managed to mumble, "Sorry."

James's hand came to rest at the nape of his neck and he squeezed, ever so gently. "Don't be."

Jian returned to quiet. His eyes were closed. The noise in his body had died away, leaving something sensitive, but not sore, in its wake. Almost comfort; almost anxiety; almost both together; almost neither.

James shifted imperceptibly. "Do you want an answer?"

Jian's mind, finally within his reach and comprehension, took a long moment to understand what James was referring to. When it did, his gut tightened; it was a heated, unsettled tightness. His voice was a touch raw from tears. "I-- don't. Know."

James might have smiled into his hair at the response. "Okay." He accepted.

Jian sniffed again. He turned his face and his nose brushed James's neck. He felt James's thumb begin to trace lazy patterns against his nape. He swallowed. "I... I think 'bout--" His gut twisted and he stopped. Couldn't continue.

James seemed to give him time, just in case, before he spoke. "Yes, I want to fuck you." He said and for such an explicit statement – with all the unspoken complications and ethical questions it contained – it held such impossible gentleness and considerate caution. "But that's not all this is. If you told me no, I'd still want to spend time."

The noise was starting to creep back into Jian's body; his gut, in particular. He tried to focus on the scent that blanketed him, the hands that held him. A minute or two rolled by. Jian's stomach continued to shift as James's words began – truly – to settle in his head. He was starting to feel warm in a way that was not contentment nor shame nor anything else that had driven the feeling tonight. His throat clicked. His cock was... "I--" It was like a fire had been lit, contained and relatively innocent at first, yet touched by a gentle wind and now spreading with such speed it was hard to grasp. "-when-- I stayed the night, I--"

James seemed to give him time to finish again, and, when nothing came, softly offered, "Thought about it?"

Jian nodded. His blood was fizzing quietly. "'N'..."

James's hand – and it was impossible to say with certainty – might have tightened on Jian's nape. "Touched yourself?"

Jian's cock was now tenting in his pants. It was slightly challenging to look past. He nodded, heart hammering and gut thrumming.

James was quiet.

Jian began, slowly, to panic.

And then a very soft, "Fuck." slipped from under James's breath (which made Jian's gut jump and cock twitch) and he drew back just enough to let their eyes meet (which Jian actively avoided). His hand slipped from Jian's nape and came round to hold his face again. His thumb trailed featherlight over Jian's lower lip and Jian's gut started to burn. James's eyes were dark and heated. His jaw was set. His thumb paused, resting on Jian's lip, then pressed – still light – down. Jian's heartbeat was raucous; his mind had deserted him again; he parted his lips.

 

James's thumb slipped inside, his sights fastened to the action. Jian's breath was shallow and out of time. James's gaze dipped to his crotch. A muscle in his jaw twitched and pulled his thumb out.

"Tell me you really want this." he said, voice low and somehow preoccupied. "Cos this isn't something I can take back once it happens."

Jian's head was cloudy. He didn't even know what James was asking him; what this meant. His hand on Jian's dick? Jian's on his? His fingers in Jian's ass? His cock? But it hardly mattered because Jian did really want it; all of it; any of it; whatever James meant by it. He nodded, with a face on fire.

James didn't move. He watched Jian's face. "I need you to say it, baby."

Jian stomach tensed and his cock pulsed; his head spun and the word seemed to echo in his ears. The only thing he could say was, "Please."

James let out a short breath. "God, you don't know what you do to me." He murmured, running his left hand through his hair. Before Jian had time to untangle that statement, James dipped to press the gentlest of kisses to his mouth and said, "Want you to strip for me." he drew back. "Can you do that?"

Jian's chest flinched. Hesitation nipped at him. But that fire continued to blaze and it seemed nothing would ever put it out. With shaky legs, Jian stood from the sofa and, determinedly refusing to look at James, took off his shirt and hoodie. James leant back on the sofa, following Jian's every movement; there was a bulge at his crotch, beyond innocent explanation. Jian's knees felt weak. Clumsy fingers found the waistbands of his sweats and boxers. His chest flinched again, engulfed within seconds by that furious fire. He stripped them off.

 

James ran his eyes over Jian, slipped a hand onto his own crotch and squeezed. "C'mere." He murmured. "Sit on my lap."

Jian, once he had settled in James's lap with his thighs either side of him, didn't remember taking the steps to do so. He still couldn't look at James's face. His cock was full and flushed and wet at the tip.

James smoothed both hands up Jian's sides, slow and gentle. "You're so beautiful." He said, eyes continuously moving over Jian's body. "What did you think about?" His eyes rose to Jian's face and he gave his waist a squeeze. "When you thought about me."

Jian's throat clicked and his face thrummed with heat. His hands found James's shoulders uncertainly: a feeble attempt to ground himself. "Just--" He bit his lip, cock aching to find stimulation; it almost touched James's sweater, but not quite. "-you-- holdin' me down 'n'-" His voice was so quiet and Jian was starting to find it hard to see around the way his face burnt. "-usin'. Me."

James's hands squeezed his waist again. "Good boy." He said and Jian's breath hitched. "Did you finger yourself?"

Jian's head reeled, snagged on those two little words; he wasn't even conscious of the way he shuffled forward on James's lap and rocked his hips – just once; small, disjointed and desperate – against James's sweater. He took his lip back into his mouth and swallowed a soft noise at the friction. "James."

James hummed softly. "Answer the question, sweetheart."

Jian sank his teeth deeper, deeper, deeper into his lip. His heart hurled itself against his ribcage; his cock leaked; he rocked his hips thoughtlessly again. "Fuck, I-- not- here."

James's right hand came away from Jian's side and he trailed a finger up the length of Jian's straining cock. "Not here?" He repeated calmly. Jian's cock twitched against him and Jian couldn't help a soft noise. James ignored it. "At home?"

Jian's fingers had begun to dig into James's shoulders. "Mm."

James wrapped his hand around the base of Jian's dick. "You've got such a cute cock, baby boy." He said, not moving to stroke. "So wet."

Jian let out another soft noise.

James brought his eyes back to Jian's face. "You're doing so well." He said. "Being so, so good."

The heat that rolled through Jian's body in response to that was searing and heavy. All he could do was drop his head against James's shoulder and pant, hips bucking indistinctly into James's unmoving fist. James pressed a kiss to his hair. "How many fingers?"

Jian closed his eyes. "T- two."

James hummed again and began to work his hand, slow and steady, over Jian's aching erection. "Bet you look pretty," He murmured, thumbing the head of Jian's cock and making him moan louder than he had so far. "playing with your ass, thinking about me." He swiped through the embarrassing amount of precum that had built at Jian's tip and continued to stroke. "You okay?"

Jian nodded as best he could, gut molten and head hazy. "Mmn."

"Lift your head, baby." James said. "Wanna see you."

Jian swallowed hard, gave himself a moment, then followed the gentle directive. James murmured good boy and squeezed his dick in response; Jian's hips bucked and he bit his lip again.

"Take out my cock." James said. "Can you do that?"

Jian's head spun and his cock twitched. His eyes dipped to James's crotch. He looked so big.

The hand on Jian's waist rubbed up and down, as if James was telling him you can.

Jian couldn't feel his fingers as he brought them to James's fly button. He unpopped it with only one small fumble. He caught the zip and pulled it down. James's trousers opened. The outline of his – yes, big – cock pressed against his boxers and Jian felt lightheaded. His eyes flicked up to James's; James gave him a slight smile and gave his waist another squeeze. Jian slipped his fingers under his waistband and tugged it down. His cock sprang free and Jian thought it very plausible that he could cum from simply the sight.

 

James was longer and thicker than himself; Jian stared at his cock and imagined how it would fill him up, how deep it would reach. His teeth played with his lip and pre built at his tip, dribbling down the side until it met where James still held him. The hand on Jian's waist came away and moved instead to thread through Jian's hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

"Good boy." James said, slipping his hand out and removing his other from Jian's cock. He grazed the corner of Jian's mouth with his thumb before returning both hands to Jian's hips and tugging him, just slightly, forward. Their cocks brushed; Jian's glistening with pre, James's thick and hard. They looked so dirty, against each other. Jian watched another bead of pre dribble from his. And then James wrapped his hand around the base of both and began to jack them off together. Jian hiccupped, heat curling inside him as he watched. James moved his fist in exactly the way as to best yield pleasure. Jian was helpless against regular little moans and the occasional hump of his hips. He felt weightless. His thighs were tense; his balls tight; his gut searing.

"James."

James pressed his thumb to the underside of Jian's tip.

"Nngh." Jian's hips jerked.

James gave no let up.

Jian's cock was throbbing. "Nnngh, 'm-- uhn!"

James broke his rhythm.

Jian was panting, body flushed and sensitive. James's cheeks were faintly coloured; the only sign (other than his cock) that he was remotely affected. Jian fell behind. Drastically. He didn't even have time to process the arrival of the feeling before it washed over him: his body jerked and cum spurted from the tip of his dick, wetting James's member and hand as he stroked Jian through it. Jian couldn't see straight. He dropped his head back against James's shoulder as his climax danced momentarily in his limbs. James released Jian's cock and jerked himself off at a harsher pace until a soft grunt left him and Jian drowsily registered warm, thick liquid landing against his abdomen as James climaxed.

 

Soft breathing filled the air as reality torpidly settled again.

 

Jian's face was hot. He couldn't tell how he felt. He didn't think it was positive, but it wasn't the nasty sensations that followed his usual orgasms.

James, naturally, was first to speak. It was, naturally, with the following question: "You okay?"

Jian could feel cum starting to dry. Even if he wasn't okay – and this wasn't a fact he knew to be true or otherwise – he couldn't very much say so because, it seemed to him, he'd been the one to start this. He nodded.

James let out a slow breath and rubbed his cum-free hand up Jian's back. "Sit up, sweetheart." He said and Jian's stomach fluttered halfheartedly in response to the endearment.

He pushed himself up and fixed his eyes on James's collar.

James's gaze travelled him. His clean hand moved to stroke Jian's face. "You sure you're okay?"

Jian's throat bobbed and he nodded again.

James watched him a moment more, then said, "Alright." and brought his hand away. "Let's clean up."

 

Jian wiped himself preliminarily with some tissues before re-dressing and following James to the downstairs bathroom. From there, James asked if he wanted to shower. Jian nodded. James asked if he wanted to shower together. Jian, face warming, nodded again.

 

He tucked himself against James, once the spray was heated, and did very little else. James made no protest. He washed Jian's hair and body with tender movements that didn't, in any large way, disrupt Jian from his position. Once out of the shower, James dried Jian's hair for him. It was gentle and quiet and nearly domestic. He asked Jian again if he was okay. Jian made no change to his answer.

 

James booked him an Uber. They didn't talk as they waited for it. James gave Jian a chaste kiss before he left. Street and houselights illuminated the heavy night as Jian tugged his seatbelt on. He felt like his body was holding its breath and wondered what would happen once it let go.

Chapter 12

Summary:

James, on his way past Jian, touched his waist and offered a gentle, "Hey."

Notes:

its may?????

Jian watched Liam rest his elbow on a splodge of still-wet red paint and cringed. Old newspaper covered the carpet in thick layers; the mess was contained.

"Oops." Liam murmured, removed his elbow, then continued with his picture. It was an ocean scene: a big shark, spiny lionfish, tangled jellyfish and so forth, each given - inaccurate but delightful nonetheless - shape by such happy wonder.

 

Jian pushed himself to his feet. "You okay? 'M gonna make tea."

Liam hummed his contentment.

"Stay on the paper." Jian added, stepping back. He imagined the price of James's carpets were eye-watering.

Liam hummed again, adding a spiky yellow blob Jian suspected was a pufferfish.

 

He filled the kettle and put it on, leaning back against the counter and fixing his eyes on his socks as the soft electronic drone began. This kettle was infinitely more quiet than Jian's at home. His stomach twisted harshly and his throat tightened. It had been happening throughout the day. Jian was doing his best to bury it. He didn't want to think about what lay beneath and he didn't want to think about seeing James; seeing Liam was hard enough.

 

Naturally, as these thoughts floated their nebulous way through Jian's head, the garage door purred to life and Jian's gut twisted with such harshness that it hurt. He dug his teeth into the inside of his lip. A car engine died. The garage door purred shut. A car door slammed. Footsteps. Jian's face began to prickle. Liam didn't – as he nearly always did – race to meet James; he stayed focused on his pufferfish. Jian swallowed.

 

He didn't raise his head as James came through to the kitchen, just tried to keep his heart from climbing like bile up his throat and landing wet on the floor.

James, on his way past Jian, touched his waist and offered a gentle, "Hey."

Jian flicked his eyes up.

James's hand fell away and he smiled before heading over to Liam and displaying convincing awe at the artwork his son had produced.

The kettle boiled. Jian pushed off the counter and made himself a cup of oolong.

 

He stayed in the kitchen and began on Liam's dinner: chicken, rice and broccoli, upon the kid's request. James headed upstairs to change and, presumably, decompress after a hard day's work. Liam began to tell Jian facts about swordfish. Jian listened with half an ear; most of his brain was busy handing him scattered snippets of last night. It was slightly nauseating, the way arousal mangled into anxiety; confusion into excitement; frustration into... care. That felt like a safe word to use. It wasn't too big. It wasn't outrageous. And it was true. Jian genuinely cared about James. It didn't sit comfortably within him. It housed shame the same way whale bones housed zombie worms. But it was there. And it was his. And it was – speaking tentatively – okay.

 

When James returned, smart jeans had replaced expensive slacks and a warm knitted jumper had replaced a crisp dress shirt. He went straight to Liam and they discussed the finer points of his artwork in a little more detail (daddy, I made the sea cucumber blue because that will help it camouflage) before James guided Liam into packing up. Jian, putting the rice cooker on, wondered if he should go over to help. Droplets of rain began to ping delicately against the kitchen window. Grey clouds rolled overhead and pulled time into a confused state; ten to five felt like ten to six. James told Liam to put all his paints away in the right place, set his art to dry on the coffee table and rolled up the messied newspaper. Jian took out a head of broccoli and began to prep it.

 

"Is that just for Liam?" James asked, coming into the kitchen in order to tuck the scrunched newspaper in the recycling.

Jian nodded without words, purely on account of the heart beating in his mouth.

James hummed. "What are we having?"

Jian swallowed, gave himself a moment to force his heart back to where it should be, and answered, "Whatever you want."

A smooth chuckle left James. "Those kind of statements are a little dangerous, coming from you."

Jian's chest constricted and he glanced at James.

Softly curved lips and fond eyes were all he received.

He swallowed again and continued prepping broccoli. "Then I'll make what I want."

"Perfect." came the easy answer. "I'm gonna give Liam a bath." James stepped back. "If the weather gets worse, you're welcome to stay the night."

Jian bit the inside of his lip.

James let out a small breath, leant to press a kiss to Jian's temple and murmured, "I'm happy to see you." before he left the kitchen.

Jian skin crackled. He stared at the broccoli in his hands. Beneath the chaos – easiest to explain as feeling like his body was ripping itself apart – that little peck felt nice. Terrifying.

 

It was as Jian was washing his hands, a basic marinade saturating sliced chicken to his left, that Liam came bounding back into the living space, hair damped, pyjamas donned and face bright. He bellyflopped onto the couch as James came into the kitchen, jumper sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and got himself a wine glass.

"That sauce smells good."

Jian shut the tap off and dried his hands. "'M kinda shit at cookin'." He muttered without thinking.

James paused in uncapping the bottle he now held. He glanced to his son, then resumed opening his wine. "Be mindful of your mouth." He said softly.

It was beyond inappropriate that Jian's reaction to that was not remorse nor guilt. Instead, heat flooded his gut and prickled on his cheeks. He didn't reply.

James poured his wine and went to join Liam on the sofa.

 

The heat lost its strength but didn't fade. Jian stayed put and tried to ignore the gentle way James asked Liam further about how his day was. He let the marinade sit, eyes back on his socks and tea slowly getting consumed. When ten minutes or close enough had rolled past, Jian put some oil in a wok and let it warm. He heard conversation dip from the lounge and then the TV start. Jian tipped the chicken into the pan and a hiss burst into the air.

 

Though he held little confidence, Jian didn't mind cooking. It was nice, especially these days, to have something individual and practical to occupy him when he was in this house. His head fell quiet and his body calmed.

 

He dished up Liam's food once it was ready; James paused their episode of Paw Patrol and told him to go and get it. Shortly after this, James got a phone call and, with a lowered won't be long, took himself to his home office. Jian made himself another tea and settled on Liam's left.

"So tell me some facts 'bout sharks." he said, watching the way Liam stabbed a piece of broccoli with that innocent incoordination children often held.

Liam paused in lifting the broccoli to his mouth in order to grin.

 

Jian learnt that Greenland sharks can live up to 500 years; sixgill sharks can survive without food for a year; frilled sharks swallow their prey whole; ninja lanternsharks are only 20 inches long. It was genuinely fascinating. When Liam mentioned goblin sharks could dislocate their jaws, Jian had to look up a photo online.

 

James hadn't returned from his office by the time Liam was done. Jian took his dishes to wash up and said he could finish his episode. Jian kept to the kitchen and looked at shark pictures on his phone; basking sharks were a (disconcerting) highlight. James returned just as Liam's episode came to a close. Jian watched him drop a kiss to his son's head and inform him it was bedtime. With no more than a small grumble of protest, Liam bid Jian goodnight and, as they made their way to the stairs, asked his dad if he'd read to him. James gave a smooth hum in affirmation and Jian was left in the kitchen with a silent TV and fading footsteps.

 

He swallowed and rubbed his nose. His gut squirmed around itself like – and this was something Liam had only mentioned briefly – an eel undergoing toxic shock. He took a sip of his tea and moved to the fridge to try and come up with a meal James would like. Jian didn't know his tastes. He never complained when eating Jian's food; never asked for anything specific; had rarely been observed cooking for himself. Jian's eyes found some brown button mushrooms in the veggie draw. Liam wasn't a fan of mushrooms. He took them out. It was so quiet without Liam; without the television. The rain grew heavier. Jian's gut wouldn't sit still.

 

He decided on mushroom pasta. It felt like the safest bet. Cooking now didn't feel like it had barely an hour earlier. His mind didn't settle; his body didn't mellow. Jian had never had feelings for someone before, not beyond a loose crush. He'd never thought about how it would sit within him. He'd never wanted to. But he had, vaguely, assumed it would feel nice. He wasn't sure if that assumption was wrong or if something else was.

 

He was mid-way through making the sauce when footsteps sounded anew and the eel in his gut went into a second state of toxic shock. James entered first into the living room, retrieved his empty wine glass from the coffee table, then came into the kitchen to refill it. His eyes grazed the pan in front of Jian as he did so.

"I love mushrooms." he said.

Jian's cheeks tingled and his heart stuttered. A faint round of thunder rumbled, sounding very far away. "Liam doesn't." He mumbled, sights fastened to his cooking. "S'how I figured."

James made a soft noise of amusement and settled on the counter, half a metre or less from Jian. "Smart boy."

Jian side-eyed him. He would usually have said fuck off or something equivalent but be mindful of your mouth meant he caught himself.

James's lips twitched and he looked to the blank TV. "You listen well too."

Jian's cheeks went from tingling to burning. He looked back to the pan. "C'you fill a pot with water for the pasta?"

James hummed and got moving. Shutting the tap off and moving to set the pot on one of the back hobs, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Jian muttered.

A quiet breath left James's nose. He turned the hob on, then moved back to his wine. "Last night wasn't too much?"

Several million eels, now, underwent toxic shock in Jian's gut. "I don't-- know."

James was quiet.

Another muted round of thunder rolled out.

Jian gnawed the inside of his lip. He could feel James watching him.

"I liked it a lot." came at last and Jian's heart split into two, both pieces beating with sickening speed. "But I don't think it was..." James paused, apparently hunting for the right word. "appropriate."

Jian's throat clicked. He stared at the pan in front of him for what felt like an hour. "Doesn't matter." He said, brain lagging behind. "S'not like I didn't want-- it." He pushed a piece of mushroom around the pan. "The fuck's it matter what's appropriate when this isn't--" He belatedly registered the fact he'd cussed and whatever useless thought he'd been making his way toward evaporated.

James took a moment before answering. So soft, so calm, so reassuring. God, it ate at Jian's chest that he could be so good. "When this isn't defined by observation?" He offered.

Jian's brain had to work to pull that into parts he could understand. Once it did, he nodded stiffly. "S'just us." Somewhere deep down – probably about the depth you might find sixgill sharks, according to Liam – was ashamed of how ineloquent he was, standing beside James. "If I liked it 'n' you-- liked it, doesn't matter." He could feel James watching him again and finally stopped smearing that poor piece of mushroom around and gave the pan as a whole a stir.

A louder rumble of thunder unfurled.

Jian glanced up to the window; it was too dark to make out much more than the glowing windows of neighbouring homes.

"Will you stay the night?" James asked eventually.

"S'just thunder." Jian muttered, heart breaking into a further 800 pieces and continuing to hammer his ribcage.

James reached over and tidied a strand of Jian's hair at his temple. "I'd like you to."

Jian's skin prickled. His mum was working a night shift today. It would provide a clean, easy excuse if she weren't: my mum will find it odd. Jian could give that excuse anyway; James wouldn't know. And yet he didn't. He stared at the pan in front of him and nodded.

James moved over, kissed the crown of his head, and continued on his way to the lounge. "Let me know if you need any help."

Jian took his lower lip into his mouth. His gut was warm. Hot. Burning.

Notes:

for anyone interested, after finishing this one,, aiming to pick come apart back up on main acc 🤞 ideally within a month

Chapter 13

Summary:

He removed his arm from around Jian's shoulder, stroked his jaw and asked, "Sit on my lap?"

They ate at the kitchen island. They didn't talk much, but their knees touched. Jian did the dishes when they were finished and James returned to the sofa. Jian made himself a tea and then, nerves buzzing in his tummy, made his way to the living room too.

 

He looked at the space on James's left. James watched him quietly. Jian felt his cheeks prickle. He swallowed, set his tea on the coffee table and sat beside James, legs tucked under himself and a good inch remaining between them. James let out the softest of breaths. One of his fingers traced, featherlight, the shell of Jian's ear before his arm fell to Jian's shoulders and tugged him in. Jian put up no resistance, even as the nerves he held spiked viciously.

"Do you like nature documentaries?" James asked, picking up the remote and navigating to one of the various streaming services he subscribed to.

Jian tried to pull his focus from the warm weight of James's arm. "Dunno."

James hummed smoothly and selected The Green Planet. "Let's find out."

 

Whatever James might have put on, Jian was initially convinced it would not be possible for him to focus enough to comprehend; the scent of James's cologne, the heat of his body; there was no way Jian would be able to see around that. And yet both melted away.

 

It was a documentary series about plants. Jian would never have selected such a thing of his own accord (assuming, that was, he watched much TV to begin with). Never before had awe swelled like the ocean within him. Never before had wonder burnt so bright in his mind. Yes, Jian liked nature documentaries.

 

"C'we watch-- another one?" he asked, eyes still on the screen as the credits rolled.

James's thumb grazed the size of his neck. "Sure."

 

It was mid-way through this second episode that Jian felt James's eyes on his profile; it was a difficult realisation to describe for, once it registered, it felt as though the realisation was ever so late; as though it had taken him an uncountable number of seconds to make. Jian's body stiffened, just a little, and he felt heat rise on his cheeks. He glanced at James. James didn't hide the fact he'd been looking, he simply smiled – small; barely the tips of his lips – and thumbed Jian's neck again.

"You're so pretty." he murmured.

Jian's brain ground to a halt. His throat clicked.

James's eyes travelled his face.

Jian broke eye contact.

James continued moving his thumb absently over the skin beneath it. It tingled. James stopped. He removed his arm from around Jian's shoulder, stroked his jaw and asked, "Sit on my lap?"

Heat like bile rose in Jian. Scorching heat. From the base of his gut up, up, up. Unfurling like fog. Licking like flames. His muscles tensed. His brain refused to move. His gaze fell to James's lap.

 

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he straightened up. Fire bit at his skin as he straddled James. He kept his eyes down. His cock was starting to take note of the heat eating at his gut. James's hands found Jian's hips.

"Good boy." he said, low and velvety.

Jian's cock throbbed weakly. He dug his teeth into the inside of his lip. David Attenborough still spoke from the TV. James's hands tightened – just faintly – and he pulled Jian forward a little. Jian's crotch met James's abdomen and his teeth dug deeper into his lip at the quiet pressure.

James removed one hand from Jian's hip, lifted it to tilt Jian's chin gently upwards, then threaded it through the hair at his forehead, brushing it back. "Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something." He said, eyes on his hand in Jian's hair. "Like everyone else sees stuff I can't." His eyes were dark and hard to read; his expression preoccupied. "And then you came along."

Jian's heart hiccuped violently.

James's eyes flitted down and their gazes met. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Jian's heart hiccuped again. Just as violent, but now several times in a row.

James's hand slipped from his hair and stroked his cheek. "The way you are with Liam; the way you are with me; the things you say." His thumb met the corner of Jian's lip and stilled. "I like having you here. I like coming home to it." His thumb shifted to graze Jian's lower lip and Jian honestly thought he might vomit, the way his stomach was churning. "I want..." James's voice was distracted and his eyes were fastened to Jian's lips. He changed tracks. Quite drastically. "God, the way you sound when you moan; I haven't been able to hear anything else since, baby."

Jian's cock, by this point, was fully hard and straining in his pants. There was no way James wouldn't be able to feel it and there was no way Jian could think around it. He hadn't an answer for James. He hadn't the words. He hadn't the capacity to even attempt them. His heartbeat was painful; his skin prickling with molten sparks. He rocked his hips.

 

It wasn't conscious. But he did it and it felt nice.

 

James's eyes shifted. Imperceptible. Darkness moving in darkness; nothing Jian could give definition. His thumb pressed down against Jian's lip. Without force. Jian – mind blank – opened. James pushed his thumb inside, rubbing against Jian's tongue. Jian didn't know what to do; James didn't seem to care.

"You'd look so good with my cock in your mouth." he murmured and Jian – honest to god – moaned. It was a small noise, but it was undeniable and darkness again moved in darkness. "Yeah?" James withdrew his thumb. Jian's hips bucked: slight and instinctual. James leant up and kissed him.

 

It was hot and wet and messy; teeth and tongue and Jian falling way, way, way behind. He didn't know how to kiss. Self-conscious insecurity gripped his chest. All he could do was try to follow James's lead. James's teeth grazed Jian's lip and his right hand slid to palm Jian's cock. Tight pleasure twisted from the contact; Jian moaned into James's mouth, high and quiet. James broke the kiss and instead trailed his mouth along Jian's jaw, palming Jian's cock again and causing his breaths to come out in little pants. Facial hair grazed sensitive skin. James's hand slipped beneath Jian's waistbands. A fog so thick it was hopeless to see through had descended over Jian's mind. He took his lower lip into his mouth, whining softly as James rubbed his thumb over the wet tip of his cock. The base of his gut was boiling; hot, thick, heavy. James mouthed at Jian's neck, causing shivers to dance down his spine. He nipped Jian's earlobe. Jian's cock twitched and his hips rocked into James's movements. The world was spinning.

"Thought about it today," James said, lips brushing Jian's ear. "driving home; your pretty lips on my cock. Eyes wet, cheeks flushed." He started to jack Jian off, slow and firm and-- fuck. "Your tight, wet throat. The way my cock would stretch it." He traced his tongue around the shell of Jian's ear and Jian couldn't even remember where he was. His thighs were tense. His gut was thrumming. "Thought about my fingers inside you, taking my time 'til you're begging." He nosed the juncture of Jian's neck, then bit down gently. "Pushing my cock in, real slow." Fuck, Jian's head was reeling; breathy moans met nearly every one of James's words; his toes were curled in his socks and his hips kept rocking, needy and mindless, into where James touched him. "Reaching so deep; filling you up so nice." James's lips returned to Jian's ear. "Bet you'd cum and cum, baby boy." A hint of teeth; a tightened fist. And then-- "Daddy's cock so hard inside you."

Jian's hips jerked. He came.

 

White-hot pleasure curled in his bones as his cock spurted into James's fist. James groaned, ever so softly, against his neck and stroked him through it. The world was hazy. Relief swept through Jian, but it didn't douse the fire in his gut. He could feel James's hardness beneath him. He could see the images James had fed to him and he-- shit, he wanted.

 

James let Jian's cock go and drew back. A chaste peck met Jian's lips and Jian blinked his eyes open.

James gave him a soft smile. "Okay?"

Jian nodded. His body fizzed.

James watched him. "Want to stop?"

Jian shook his head. His body fizzed.

James's lips – fainter than faint – curved. "No?"

Jian shook his head again; firmer, maybe, but he hadn't the true presence of mind to really say.

James hummed gently. "What do you want?"

Big question. Huge question. Impossible question, in combination with Jian's current brain power. His mind groped sluggishly for an answer. James's cock. In his mouth? His throat? His ass? There was nothing he didn't want. "'Nythin'."

Again James's gaze shifted; untraceable and unnamable. Jian thought it might be-- arousal. It seemed to strip him bare; cut his flesh and gnaw through bone. It was unbearable. Jian didn't want it to stop. "Anything." James echoed, gaze falling between them to the cum that had spilt onto Jian's sweats and James's jumper. "Okay." He murmured, eyes returning to Jian's. "Can we go to the bedroom?"

Jian's gut jumped. Bedroom. James's bedroom. He nodded, electricity playing beneath his skin.

James kissed the corner of his mouth. "Good boy."

 

With phenomenal awkwardness, Jian removed himself from James's lap and tucked his cock away. He allowed himself a fleeting glance at James's crotch and the bulge present made his gut flip; he moved his eyes to the floor.

 

James switched off the TV. "Go ahead." He said. "I'll be up in a sec."

Jian's throat clicked, he flicked his eyes to James's face, dropped them again, nodded and stepped back.

 

He kept his eyes down as he made his way to James's room. His teeth toyed with his lip and picked tiny pieces from it; not enough to draw blood, but enough to threaten it. He hesitated when he arrived outside the door. No footsteps came yet from downstairs; he wondered if James was having another drink. Liam's bedroom was the first on this second floor, very nearly opposite the stairs. Then came the upstairs bathroom. And last was James's room.

 

Jian opened and closed the door as silently as possible. It was dark, though the blinds weren't drawn. Jian swallowed hard. He crossed to do them and the darkness grew thicker. Jian turned a bedside lamp on. Soft yellow seeped over the room. Jian cautiously sat on the bed. The room was pristine. Not a single book in the bookshelf was out of line; no clothes had made their way out of the wardrobe; not a wrinkle – excluding the space Jian now occupied – in the bedding. Jian couldn't begin to think how James managed it. He found it hard enough to leave his bed, some days, let alone make it again after.

 

These observations were, naturally, a weak attempt at distraction. Without James beside him, it was a lot harder to face what he was doing. Jian rubbed his nose and shifted so he was sat back against the headboard, with his knees drawn. James was older - Jian didn't even know by how much; 15, 20 years? - he was Jian's employer; Jian was a minor. These were things Jian didn't mind. These were things which needed context; which sounded awful, but weren't – in Jian's reality, something no one else could touch – cause for concern. So Jian didn't truly understand why it was so hard to face.

 

The door opened and James stepped in. He closed it softly behind himself and gave Jian a smile. "Alright?"

Always asking; always wanting to know. It agitated Jian when others did the same. But with James? Such simple and honest care went straight to his heart. A little painful, a little overwhelming, a little comforting. He nodded.

James moved no deeper into the room, just took a moment to look at Jian.

Jian couldn't help dropping his gaze to his socks.

"D'you want a shower?" James asked at last, coming to stand beside the bed and stroking a hand through Jian's hair. "Might give you time to think this through."

Jian wasn't entirely sure what this was. He nodded.

James's lips twitched. "I know you're not a big talker," He said, fingers tracing Jian's ear. "but I'd feel better if you used words." His fingers came to Jian's jaw. "You've not said a full sentence for a while."

Again. Right to Jian's heart. It hurt for someone to be so good; so good to Jian. His throat clicked. "I'll-- shower." His eyes slipped from James's face. Fuck that bulge at his crotch looked so big.

James made a calm noise of acknowledgement, thumb grazing Jian's chin. "If you decide you want me inside you," His thumb shifted up to brush the skin beneath Jian's lower lip and Jian's gut was churning once more in full force. "do you know how to get yourself ready?"

Jian's throat clicked again, louder. A sharper heat prickled on his cheeks; something like shame. "Think so." He muttered, eyes to the side of James's waist.

"Okay." James said, ever so gentle. "There's some stuff under the sink. Let me know if you need any help. Jian, sweetheart, look at me." He murmured and Jian's chest constricted, heart stuttered, gut twisted, cheeks burnt; he looked at James. James smiled, just a little: it was reassurance. "Please don't be embarrassed."

Jian nodded.

James dipped down to kiss him, then stepped back. "Take whatever time you need."

 

Jian's body felt taught as he closed the ensuite door behind himself and stared into darkness. His heart thrashed within him. He flicked the light on. He had a semi. He didn't move from the door for a few minutes, he just looked at the floor and tried to find something coherent in his brain. If you decide you want me inside you. Nerves – biting, gnawing, stinging nerves – swelled within him at the merest hint of the idea. And, just as quick as those nerves swelled, arousal overtook them with an all-consuming ease. Jian knew he wanted it. So bad. He just didn't know how to do it. He picked pieces from the inside of his lip and the taste of blood burst on his tongue.

 

Finally, he moved deeper into the bathroom and looked under the sink. An unopened pack of enemas sat amongst other things. Jian reached for them with fingers that felt almost numb. He scanned the instructions. He broke the plastic covering and took a couple of the small boxes which each housed a single bottle.

 

Jian used the toilet and stripped, something hot and something cold warring continuously in his stomach. He stepped into the shower and stood to the side of the spray for the short time it took to warm. He didn't know how to do it; he did know James wouldn't mind. He was patient. Jian swallowed hard as he took up the first enema.

 

He'd never douched before. He'd not had any real reason. But he had read about it. The feeling of thin liquid inside him felt unnatural and unpleasant. Jian held it, face feeling hot and something nasty scratching at a part of his brain he'd give into later. The liquid coming out was clear, upon his use of the second bottle and the smallest of tensions eased inside him, now that he at least felt clean down there. Jian took up the body wash and continued with more typical shower activities.

 

He dried himself, once out. Couldn't look in the mirror. Didn't want to put boxers and sweats back on that had cum on them. His cock was still half-hard.

 

After at least five minutes of not knowing how to leave the ensuite, Jian eventually decided on wrapping the towel he'd used around his waist and hoping for the best.

 

James had settled on the bed. He had his legs out before himself, his back on the headboard and his gaze on his phone. He locked it and looked up as Jian emerged. His eyes travelled Jian and Jian couldn't properly tell this time, but darkness may have moved in darkness again.

"Feeling okay?"

Jian nodded. He didn't know what to do with his hands.

"Okay." James gave him a smile. "Wanna sit on my lap again and tell me what you want?"

Fuck. No. Absolutely not. Yes. He'd never wanted anything more. Jian's throat bobbed. His left hand came to touch the towel around his hips. "Should--?"

James's eyes dipped. He didn't answer straight away. Then, "Yeah."

Fire fizzed in Jian's veins. He looked at the bedside lamp. Wanted to ask if they could turn it off. Didn't. He moved to the edge of the bed and, without looking at James and with blood pounding under his skin, let the towel drop before settling on James's lap and fixing his attention furiously to the collar of James's jumper. Self-consciousness bored through him. Warm hands found his waist. James was still hard, Jian could feel it. His own cock was starting to grow wet again at the tip.

"You really are so pretty." James murmured. "So fucking pretty."

Jian flicked his eyes up, then away.

James traced comforting circles into the skin of his sides. "Tell me what you want."

God, James's boner felt so hard under Jian. His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. "Want-- you t' fuck me."

James lifted one hand to thumb Jian's jaw, guiding his head up at the same time so their eyes met. "You're sure?"

Jian took his lower lip into his mouth and nodded. His gut felt like it was gnawing on itself.

"Alright." James said, dipping to kiss the tip of Jian's nose. He then leant over and opened the top drawer of the right-hand bedside table. From it, he took a bottle of-- lube. Jian's gut gnawed harder. James dropped it at his hip and smoothed his hands up and down Jian's waist. "Do you want to finger yourself?" He asked. "Or want me to do it?"

Jian's cock twitched. His face was on fire. He muttered, "You."

James hummed. "Okay." His hands came away from Jian and he stripped off his jumper and shirt.

Jian's eyes fell to his bared chest and his cock may very well have twitched again. Smooth skin. Masculine strength. Softly toned muscles. Fuck. Fuck . Jian felt so hot, he couldn't bear it; so horny, he couldn't bear it.

James reached for the lube and uncapped it. "Shift forward, baby." He said, squeezing some onto his fingers and dropping the bottle again as he warmed it. "Good boy."

A bead of pre dribbled down the side of Jian's cock. James's hands were big. Anticipation thrummed within him.

James's right hand came round to Jian's ass. "Up on your knees." He instructed gently.

Jian lifted himself. It wasn't intentional that his cock rubbed James's abdomen; it felt nice; it felt wet. Jian's breath hitched and he bit his lip.

James gave him a quiet smile. "It's okay."

Jian flicked his eyes down. He'd smeared pre on James. Not much. But enough that it glistened.

James's left hand squeezed Jian's hip, just as the fingertips of his right – two fingertips – grazed over Jian's hole. "Tell me if you want me to slow down." He said.

Jian's head was foggy. He dropped it to rest against James's shoulder.

 

James started with one finger. He rubbed Jian's hole a few times before pushing it in, slow. There was no pain; the lube was silky and slick. He sheathed it all the way inside and paused, unmoving. Jian squeezed his eyes shut, nose against the crook of James's neck where the scent of his cologne was strong. James's left hand squeezed Jian's hip again and he drew the finger out. He fucked it in and out with a steady rhythm for a while. It felt nice, but nothing more. And then James crooked it downward and Jian's hips bucked as tight pleasure jumped within him. James kissed his hair and repeated the motion.

"Nngh." Jian's mouth fell open against James's neck.

James's left hand had tightened on Jian's waist. His finger sped up.

Jian's cock throbbed and twitched and leaked against James's abdomen. Small moans were pushed from him on every thrust. He felt lightheaded. Felt like his blood had evaporated within him.

The tip of James's second finger met Jian's hole and rubbed, then sank in.

"Uhng." Jian pressed his face closer against James's neck, hips jerking faintly at the new stretch.

James pushed both fingers all the way in; pulled them out; crooked them down; then forced them back in.

Jian didn't think. He bit James's neck, whining as red-hot pleasure twisted from the base of his gut, trickled down his thighs. James made no complaint. He just continued to finger Jian steady and hard and good. Jian's thighs felt weak. His balls drew tight. His body was awash with tingles. Every time James curled his fingers into that spot inside Jian, thick waves of heat flooded through him. His teeth eased on James's neck as he panted and moaned. He could feel more wetness on James's torso. Thicker than pre. He turned his head in order to look between their bodies. The tip of his cock was oozing cum, pushing it out in weak, uneven spurts. Jian cussed and screwed his eyes shut, returning to the juncture of James's neck. He'd not cum like this before. He didn't know if it was normal. He didn't really care. He felt--

"Nngh James."

A third finger was added; this time without anything gradual about it. James simply fucked it in. The faintest sting underpinned the addition and Jian felt the way his cock pulsed and shot out a far more normal jet of cum.

 

James muttered something; Jian couldn't hear it. He rocked himself back on the fingers. James muttered again and sped the fingers up. Jian's reality felt hazy. His body buzzed. He floated on the feeling; the sting of the stretch was so, so nice. He wanted more. Bigger, thicker, harder, deeper.

 

When James added a fourth finger, the sting surged and it made Jian's eyes roll back. It still wasn't pain, but was now toeing the line.

"Lift your head." James muttered, fingers slowing.

Jian took a second. Maybe 10. He lifted his head.

James's fingers worked him steady and firm. His eyes ran over Jian's face. "Fuck, look at you." He murmured, fingers picking up by the slightest degree. "Feel good?"

Jian dug his teeth into his lip with a soft noise, nodding.

"Say it." James pressed his fingers into Jian's sweet spot, making his hips buck.

"Uhn!" Jian's mouth fell open. He slipped his hands onto James's shoulders and gripped. "Fuck nng." Again and again and again; James's movements gave him no room to think. "So good."

James let out a breath, eyes on Jian's features. "God, you're so tight."

Jian whined quietly.

James's eyes dipped to Jian's cock, wet with pre and cum. Flushed. Still half-hard. He scissored his fingers gently. "Take out daddy's cock, baby." He said and Jian didn't know why that word – it had to be that word; he didn't want it to be – made his cock twitch.

His hands slipped from James's shoulders and found the button of his jeans. Unpopped with clumsy motions. He took hold of his zipper. Unzipped, equally clumsy. Fuck. He was so horny he could hardly see straight. James's jeans opened. Jian chewed his lip. Pulled James's boxers down.

 

He'd seen it before, but that didn't dampen Jian's reaction by any degree. If anything, he felt even more affected seeing it this time. Thick, long and so hard it looked painful. A small amount of pre glistened at the top; nothing compared to the pre that dribbled from Jian's. Jian wanted to put his mouth on it. Feel the weight on his jaw.

 

"Get the lube," James said, slowing the rhythm of his fingers. "and slick me up."

Jian flicked his eyes up.

James slowed his fingers again. "Can you do that?"

Jian swallowed and nodded, head spinning and largely empty.

James pressed his fingers to his sweet spot, hard and deliberate; a quiet noise climbed from Jian's throat. "Good boy." James murmured, then pulled his fingers out.

 

Jian missed the stretch straight away. He looked at James's cock; thicker, he thought, than four of his fingers. Want twisted in his stomach. He reached for the lube.

 

Jian didn't know how much was appropriate; he'd never used real lube before, only spit. He squeezed what he thought was a similar amount to what James had squeezed on his fingers, then recapped the bottle and dropped it. With his heart in his mouth, Jian brought his hand down. His heart flipped. He wrapped his fingers around James's member; his fingers weren't able to touch and the fact made his gut boil.

 

James was hot under his touch; hard enough that Jian's knees felt weak. He rubbed his thumb over the slit, without thinking. James twitched. Jian bit his lip and slid his hand down, coating James's length with lube. His own cock – simply through watching himself work James's shaft – grew almost to full hardness again. Jian didn't understand it. He'd known he was able to get it up again relatively quickly; 10 minutes, give or take. But it had never been this quick before; he'd never cum like he just had before; he'd never been this wet before.

 

It wasn't long until the biting heat in his gut grew too hot and too hungry. James's cock seemed slicked enough. Jian's hand glided easily over it. He lifted his gaze, cheeks alight. James was watching him.

Jian's stomach coiled in molten anticipation. He took his hand off and hoped it made enough of a statement in itself.

James rubbed his waist. "You wanna ride me?"

Jian's chest tightened. He shook his head.

James hummed, eyes running over Jian's chest. "Get on your elbows and knees."

Jian took a second to allow that soft instruction to settle in his head; then another for it to find meaning; and yet another to swallow his reaction.

 

He slipped off James's lap and knelt beside him, then rose up on his knees and leant forward on his elbows. Insecurity roused to battle anticipation. James might have murmured good boy before he moved himself and settled behind Jian. Warm hands rubbed over Jian's hips.

"Never seen such a perfect ass." James said, thumbing his hole.

Jian swallowed thickly and tucked his face in the pillow beneath him. He took his lip into his mouth with a hitched breath when he felt James grind his big, big, big cock over him. His chest hiccuped; his stomach simmered; his dick jumped.

"Okay?" James asked him, the head of his cock rubbing over Jian's hole, almost catching.

Jian didn't mean to push his ass back – just a little – against James; didn't really register the fact he did. "Mm."

James muttered something that could have been fuck. He ground his cock over Jian's ass again, then lined up. One hand came to hold Jian's hip, steady and grounding. "You make me feel so lucky, Jian."

Jian – even if he planned to – had no chance to reply because James started pressing forward.

 

Thicker and harder than fingers. Jian had to bite down on the pillow as the head sank slowly past his rim. The stretch burnt; again, not quite pain but enough to make Jian's head spin.

James paused, once the head had slipped in, and exhaled. "Fuck." His second hand came to Jian's other hip. "You've got the tightest ass, baby."

Jian couldn't do more than moan softly in response to that.

James's hands tightened gently and he resumed moving. It was so gradual, Jian couldn't stand it; it made the stretch so much keener, the anticipation so much hotter. When he was sure James must be all the way in – when it felt like he reached halfway up his spine – James simply kept pressing. Jian panted against his pillow, lips slick with a small amount of drool. He was so, so full. It felt-- god, it felt good. Like nothing he'd ever been able to imagine.

 

James's hips met his ass. Finally. Jian's brain couldn't sit still. James ran his hands up, then down. Jian thought – thought; it was worth mentioning again what his brain had been reduced to – he felt James twitch inside him. And the thought alone was enough to make his hips rock weakly and the softest of moans to slip from him.

 "Feel okay?" James checked, voice a touch strained.

Jian nodded against his pillow, a noise of more strength leaving him.

James rubbed his hands up and down his sides again. "You feel so good, baby;" He said. "look so gorgeous."

Jian's gut jumped hotly.

"I'm gonna move." James told him. "Okay?"

Jian thought that was a very good idea. "Mm."

James squeezed his waist.

 

He drew out as slow as he'd pressed in. It was impossible for Jian to say by how much, but it can't have been more than an inch. He stilled for a moment, then slid back in. A hint of force, so small it was largely lost. Jian moaned. His toes curled and he moved to twist his fists in the duvet. James repeated his action, falling into a steady rhythm. It felt nice. It wasn't all-consuming. Just nice. Jian's body tingled with soft, quiet pleasure. He could breathe in time. And then James pulled out further. And fucked back in harder. And whatever gentle pleasure had blanketed Jian's body until that moment snapped. Audibly.

 

He whined, cock throbbing and hole twitching. His body was rocked forward and his head reeled. James released a rough breath. The next time he pulled out, it was very nearly all the way; Jian could tell because he could feel the thickness of James's head just before his rim. A second ticked by. James snapped his hips.

 

Jian's body was rocked forward with definitive force and something burst behind closed eyelids. His mouth fell open and an unsteady whine was forced from him. His cock throbbed, his balls tightened and his thighs tingled. James did it again. Just as far out. Just as hard in. His hands were digging into Jian's hips. Jian thought they were the only thing keeping him afloat.

 

James's hips met his ass with a dull smack, each time. The metal of his jeans – the zipper or button, Jian didn't care to discern – bit into his skin on every thrust. It made pleasure sting. James sped up, drawing out less far but losing no force. His cock grazed Jian's sweet-spot consistently, causing sparks of white-hot pleasure to fire off, twisting up Jian's spine and down his limbs. James's breathing was irregular. Occasionally, a soft grunt slipped from him; these noises alone were enough to make Jian's cock drip. James's hands shifted to grope Jian's ass as he continued to drive in.

"Fuck, baby." he slowed, pulled out about half-way and rocked his cock dead-on Jian's prostate.

Jian's body jerked, hips bucking and searing heat overwhelming him. "Nnngh!"

James cussed. He pulled out altogether and manoeuvred Jian onto his back. Jian panted, face hot. He dropped his forearms over it. James didn't complain. He settled between Jian's legs, stroked his thighs, lined back up and fucked back in.

 

Jian turned his head to the side, biting weakly on the skin of his own arm as hot, hot, hot pleasure boiled within him. It ached a little, as James fucked in this time. Jian's mind hooked itself on the feeling. James leant over him, kissed his jaw and started fucking him steady and deep.

"Tell me you feel good." he said, kissing Jian's jaw again.

Jian hiccupped. "Ngh feel-- fuck- so good."

James nosed at the skin below his ear. His thrusts gained no speed, but they did gain force; the ache inside Jian entwined with the sting of the stretch and the tingling heat of arousal to make him see stars. "You like daddy's cock?"

Jian's thighs were trembling. "Yeah."

James broke his rhythm. "Say it."

Jian couldn't think. James drove in so deep. Cock rubbing his sweet spot, every time. Only occasionally hitting it straight on. Keeping him hanging, with need feeding with razor teeth in his gut. "I-- fuck daddy."

James groaned softly and drew away. His hands found Jian's thighs and pushed them back to his chest. "Again." He said.

Jian had turned his face, just fractionally, out from his arm. James's chest was flushed. Eyes so dark. He looked impossible. Jian's navel was wet with the pre that had leaked from his cock. James rocked into him gentler, slower. Waiting. Jian's voice was getting raw. "Daddy."

James stroked a thumb over the underside of one of Jian's thighs. He pulled out. More than half. And fucked back in.

 

Jian's cock squirted. Ribbons of cum shot from his tip and up his chest. A small amount even landed on his chin. He barely even registered. All that existed was the cock inside him.

 

James, evidently, did register it. He muttered a string of cusses and picked up his pace. Hard, deep, fast, good. Jian felt like he was made of liquid. Waves of pleasure lapped his body. He felt the way the bed rocked as James fucked him. Felt the way skin met skin. Didn't ever want to be anywhere else.

 

It might have been one minute, maybe one hour, before James's thrusts picked up speed again and he groaned. He dropped his head to Jian's collarbone, hips stuttering. He fucked himself deep and Jian felt his dick pulse as he unloaded. Inside. Inside Jian. Fuck.

 

Stillness. Silence, save for uneven breaths. The warmth of one body bleeding into another.

 

James was first to move. He kissed Jian's clavicle before lifting his head and kissing Jian's cheek, too. "Are you okay?"

Jian turned his head a little further from his arm. He felt drowsy and sated. He felt nice. His voice was weak, "Yeah."

James watched him, eyes on the cusp of critical. "Not sore?"

Jian didn't know, not yet; sleepy pleasure continued to hum in his cells. He shook his head.

James's jaw twitched, but he didn't say anything. He kissed the corner of Jian's mouth. "Meant to go slow." He murmured. "But you- fuck, baby boy, I couldn't even think."

Jian's throat clicked. James's cock was still buried inside him. "Liked it."

James hummed, shifting to kiss his mouth properly.

Jian let his lips part when James's tongue pressed against the seam.

 

A slow minute trickled by. James broke their kiss and dropped a peck to Jian's forehead. Then he drew back entirely and, thumbing Jian's hips, began to pull out. His cock slipped free, cum-slicked. Jian felt himself twitch. He felt empty.

"Shower?" James asked, eyes on Jian's hole.

Jian's cheeks flushed under the attention – no different, of course, from the attention laid on him all night; but his attention had nothing thick and hard to distract itself with anymore. "Mn."

James lifted his sights and gave him a small smile. "Can you walk?"

Jian rolled his eyes.

James stood from the bed, smile growing faintly. Before Jian could move to follow him, however, James gripped Jian's waist, tugged him across the bed, then slipped hands under his ass and lifted him. Jian's thighs came either side of James's waist and he clenched instinctually to avoid cum dripping from him and onto the carpet. James kissed his cheek and carried him to the ensuite.

 

He set Jian down gently, once inside, and it was beyond embarrassing that Jian wobbled slightly. James stripped his jeans and boxers off and, with a hand on the small of his back, guided Jian first into the shower. The spray was turned on. Jian tucked himself against James's chest. James nosed the crown of his hair.

 

They didn't speak any further, save for James asking if he could finger Jian to clear his cum out. Jian's cheeks prickled as he nodded and caught flame as he began to harden once James's fingers were working gently inside him. James made no comment, simply wrapped his other hand around Jian's cock and jerked him off until thin cum spurted from him. Jian bit his lip, but couldn't help a couple of small moans. He stayed tucked against James after. James rubbed gentle hands over his back; sides; shoulders. He kissed Jian's ear before asking if he was ready to get out. Jian nodded.

 

He let James dry his hair and his eyes kept falling shut as James moved the towel mildly over him. An ache began to throb at the base of Jian's spine; he ignored it.

"Wanna borrow some pyjamas?" James asked as they returned to the main room. He flicked the ensuite light off and moved to pull on some sleep shorts which had, apparently, been underneath a pillow.

Jian's body felt heavy. "S'fine. Can sleep-- like this."

James hummed, rubbed Jian's waist and took the lube from the bed. He set it on the bedside table and looked at the duvet. There was a small damp patch from when Jian had been on his elbows and knees. "Can you do the sheets tomorrow?" James asked him.

Embarrassment danced on Jian's cheeks. He nodded.

James let out a soft breath and kissed his hair. "I didn't mean it like that." He said, stepping back and slipping into bed. He patted the space beside him; Jian took it. James reached over and the bedside lamp was switched off. He wrapped an arm around Jian and tugged him in. "Do you need to talk about what just happened?"

Jian adjusted himself minutely: slipping one of his legs over James's hips and settling his head on James's warm chest. "No."

James stroked his shoulder. "Let me know if you do."

Jian nodded.

James kissed his hair.

Jian closed his eyes. There was too much for him to process right now. He'd try tomorrow.

Chapter 14

Summary:

James lifted his head and his eyes landed on Jian. A softness spread over his features. "Hey."

He woke to an empty bed. His lashes grazed the pillowcase as he blinked his eyes open. The base of his spine hurt. He swallowed and rolled over. It was dark; he couldn't tell what time it was. 5am, maybe. His eyes fell back shut. Replays of the night before unwound behind his lids and Jian's body went hot and cold.

 

He'd never imagined liking someone and – the following came without the slightest confidence – being liked in return would feel so bad. He'd not expected anything beautiful; he'd never thought his sexuality, paired with the world in which he existed, leant itself to that. But he'd not expected insecurity to gnaw at his bones; inadequacy to put down roots in his head; confusion to bore through flesh; and, simultaneously, for moments at a time, for happiness to entwine with gratitude and swell in his body with such an intensity as made it uncomfortable.

 

He trusted James. He trusted the goodness that seemed to bleed, without thought, into his actions and words. He trusted James wouldn't lie to him (though he didn't trust himself to understand rightly what was spoken). In this light, the insecurity he failed to shake seemed unfair.

 

Jian rubbed his eyes and pushed himself to sitting, throat clicking and a convincing twinge snapping through him. He found his clothes from the day before and slipped them on; there was a faint and lingering cum stain in his boxers, but what had landed last night on his sweats seemed thankfully to have faded from obvious perception. He felt filthy.

 

Stepping out of James's bedroom, the house felt silent; almost empty. The upstairs hallway was dark, save for the gentle glow by the stairs which told of life down below. Jian's gut wriggled.

 

It was only the lights in the kitchen that were on. James sat at the kitchen island, a steaming cup of coffee to his right and his phone in his hand. He was fully dressed; hair neatened and entirely at odds with whatever ridiculous hour it was (a glance out the kitchen window told Jian it was still dark). James's brow was drawn faintly as he focused on the device he held; he didn't, as was so typical, seem to hear Jian's arrival.

 

Jian pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands, face warming and a nasty tightness snaking around his chest. His voice was quiet, hesitant and – the heat on his face grew – a touch raw: "Hi."

James lifted his head and his eyes landed on Jian. A softness spread over his features. "Hey."

Jian broke eye contact and shuffled closer. He saw, now, that on James's phone was an article. It's subject, as so many articles these days, was the babysitter killings.

"How're you feeling?" James asked, locking his phone and slipping his hand onto Jian's waist.

Never an easy question, emotionally speaking. Physically speaking, however: "Bit-- sore."

James released a warm breath and rubbed his hand up and down Jian's waist before pulling it back. "Not surprised." He slipped off his seat and moved to the kettle. "Did you sleep okay?"

Jian's sights dipped to the phone left on the kitchen island. "Mn."

Kettle on, James reached for a mug. "Jasmine?"

Jian's heart, for some reason, panged. "Thanks."

James hummed. "How do you feel about being here when Liam wakes?" He asked. "I usually get him up around six-thirty or seven."

Jian didn't know. He kept looking at James's phone, mind sluggish and disobliging. "I'll-- go before." Maybe he could nap in the library until school started.

"Okay." James accepted. "I'll book you an Uber."

Jian didn't argue. "Thanks." He settled on the stool beside James's. "D'you-- read 'bout it a lot?" It was a few times, now, he'd seen James going over that specific news.

"About what?"

Jian glanced up. "The killings."

James looked at him in silence for a while, then to the side. "Yeah, maybe I've built a habit." He kept his gaze to the side a moment more, then looked back. "I'm interested in how it's presented."

Jian didn't understand what he meant.

James seemed to pick up on the fact: "The tone they give the facts they relay; the assumptions or implications." James's eyes travelled Jian's face. "I'm just interested."

Jian still wasn't sure he understood, but nodded slowly nonetheless. "Like how they-- all think it's a man." He tried. "But we don't know."

James made an even noise. "Kind of." The kettle clicked and he poured Jian's tea, then set it in front of him. A kiss was dropped to Jian's forehead as he did so and an itching breed of warmth flooded Jian's chest, the same way the sun comes out from behind the clouds.

He was a little too flustered to manage a thanks.

James reclaimed the seat beside him.

Jian wrapped his hands around his mug and pulled it closer. "D'you think it's-- common?" The question was awkward and ill-fitting. He tried again: "I mean. If-- if there wasn't- laws 'n' it wasn't..." He trailed off, gazing at his tea; the way a slow colour was seeping from his teabag. His hands came away from the mug; too hot. "d'you think more people would kill? Like it's somethin'-- inside lots 'f people 'n' they can control it, but they'd let it out if they could."

James didn't answer; Jian felt his gaze settle on the side of his face. He imagined – were he to glance over – that James's expression was calm, thoughtful and concentrated. "I don't know." James spoke at last. "I don't know what's inside other people." He let out a soft breath. "But if they can control it now, why wouldn't they control it then? I don't think a consideration of the repercussions would tame any genuine impulses."

"Impulses." Jian echoed lamely.

James had a sip of his coffee. "What do you think?"

Jian didn't know, either. "Think people are more good than-- bad." He said, feeling juvenile.

James released a huff of laughter, resting an elbow on the counter top. "Cute." He murmured.

Jian side-eyed him.

Laughter lingered on James's features.

Jian looked away. "D'you not agree?"

"I think it's a little more complicated than good and bad." he answered gently. "That's all."

Jian stared at his tea, feeling juvenile still.

James rested his chin on his fist and reached to trace Jian's ear with his free hand. "Are you really okay?"

Jian's skin tingled. He nodded.

James's thumb brushed his cheek, then came away. "I'll be late tonight. Nine or so."

Jian nodded. He ran a finger over the handle of his mug. "What-- d'you want ready?" He asked. "T' eat."

James's mouth curved in soft fondness. He lifted his head from his hand. "Noodles."

Not specific in the least. Jian didn't mind. He just nodded again, skin still tingling.

 

He wanted to ask what this was and where it went. He wanted to ask if James would wait for him to grow older, to pass from reputation-ruining to reputation-tainting. He wanted to ask if there would ever be a time when this might be how it was every morning. He didn't. He continued to feel juvenile.

 

Some things, he knew, didn't need to be given shape; some things were better without shape. Yet, so desperately, Jian wanted to give this shape. A shape he could find space for and hold. A shape he would know.

 

James made him some toast, after Jian's initial refusal. Shortly after this, Jian collected his things and James arranged a ride. Jian's face began burning, as soon as he settled into the Uber. No thought underpinned the reaction. It just burnt.

 

School was largely empty. A few kids were on the upper courts, training. A few teachers wandered about. Jian had never arrived on campus before 7am before. As per his original plan, he took himself to the library, found the orange sofa in the back and flopped onto it.

 

Fatigue clung to his body, despite his not having woken, even once, since falling last night. His eyes were sore and stinging, so he kept them closed and listened to the thick silence that currently blanketed the library. His throat and his chest tightened at the faintest hint of last night's memories; Jian pushed and pushed them down.

 

Desmond, later in the day, was the first to notice Jian's clothes were the same as he'd worn yesterday. Jian had no excuse; just said he'd been too lazy to get anything new from the closet. Desmond had wrinkled his nose and Leo, standing to Desmond's left as this exchange transpired, asked Jian if he was okay. Something in Jian's stomach turned as he muttered he was fine. He wondered how they would look at him if he told the truth; he wondered if they would be concerned or disgusted. He never would, of course.

 

Seeing Liam was a challenge. Dirty guilt, as soon as his beaming face came into view, surged through Jian. Liam slipped his hand in Jian's and began chattering away as Jian's body scrabbled to reorganise itself around such an overwhelming reaction. It was easier once they got to the house; once Jian set Liam up with paper and colouring pencils and the kid's focus was pulled, mostly, from Jian.

 

Jian took to the kitchen and made him some apple slices. The base of his gut held a taut collection of nerves. Jian delivered the apples, along with some milk, to the coffee table where Liam sat. The nerves in his gut were quiet and anticipatory. Jian settled beside Liam and took a blank paper and green pencil. He wondered, not for the first time, where Liam's mother was; how old Liam had been and how James felt. He wasn't sure he'd ever have the courage to ask.

 

He drew a forest scene himself. Liam drew fish, predominantly. Some of the fish had plants growing out of them and Jian enjoyed these immensely.

 

The afternoon passed gently, yet the nerves in Jian's gut did not wane even marginally. He washed the sheets and remade the beds; Liam seemed curious, but didn't comment. He cooked rice and vegetables for Liam's dinner. They watched a few Blueys. Jian tucked him into bed. Liam told him, as Jian smoothed out the duvet around his body, that he wished he and Jian were brothers. Jian's gut lurched ferociously in response; he gave Liam a weak smile and made an ambiguous noise of acknowledgement.

 

And then it was quiet and Jian's nerves grew teeth. He did some English homework but his effort was meagre, at best. Time started dragging its feet. Jian couldn't focus on anything; his brain wouldn't settle; his thoughts wouldn't flow. He put on a nature documentary until eight-thirty shuffled along and he decided to get cooking.

 

When the garage door sounded, Jian's stomach jumped with breathtaking violence. His heart hopped into his throat and pounded. He got out two bowls; the noodles he'd made (spicy, with a selection of vegetables) were minutes from being done. Muted doors opened and closed. James's footsteps grew ever nearer.

 

"Smells good." he said as he came into the kitchen.

Jian was about to scrape together a reply when gentle lips were pressed to his temple as James stepped past him. His brain spluttered out. He poked a green bean.

James leant on the counter on the other side of the hob, bag slipping from his shoulder to his hand. "It's nice to see you."

Jian flicked his eyes over, cheeks prickling; James looked as flawless as he had this morning. The epitome of gorgeous. Jian reached to turn the gas off. "'N' you." He muttered, very quiet and – if we're being picky – a touch hostile. Jian didn't know how to curb the latter.

James exhaled warmly. "I'm gonna get changed." He said, pushing off the counter. "Thanks for cooking."

Jian's throat clicked.

 

He dished up and got himself a glass of apple juice. He settled at the kitchen island but didn't begin eating. The ache at the base of his spine was still there, far duller than this morning but determined in its presence. Jian, in this moment, liked it. James didn't take long. He returned in blue jeans and a simple white shirt. The shirt fit him beyond perfectly; made Jian's ears burn. He served himself and got a beer from the fridge before settling beside Jian.

"Tell me about your day." he said, moving his chopsticks through his bowl.

Jian glanced up at James, then away. He picked up his own chopsticks. "Dunno. Kinda-- just." He swallowed and stared at his dinner. "S'normal."

James hummed smoothly.

Jian took a mouthful.

"Still sore?"

Jian's heart stuttered and his gut twisted. "A bit. But I like it."

James looked at him.

Jian kept his sights on his food.

A slight breath left James.

Jian took another mouthful.

James set down his chopsticks and slipped one hand around his beer. "You really don't understand the effect you have on me." He said, half-preoccupied, as he lifted the bottle to his lips.

Jian's entire body stumbled.

James swallowed his beer, returned the bottle to the island and took up his chopsticks once more.

Jian collected a piece of bell pepper. "'N' you prob'ly-- don't 'nderstand the effect you have 'n-- me."

A gentle laugh slipped from James. He leant one elbow on the counter top and seemed to try and catch Jian's eye; Jian was only mildly obstructive. "Baby, I can see it." James said. "It's part of why I like you so much."

Something burst. Jian's brain went dark. Like you so much. His blood fizzed in his veins. So much. His heart started to hurt. In the darkness, his brain started to spin. Jian dug his teeth into his lip and risked meeting James's eye: entirely sincere.

James smiled, just the tips of his lips, and leant over to press another kiss to Jian's temple. "Stay for a movie?" He said, drawing back.

The heartbeat in Jian's ears was so loud, he was certain it'd wake Liam. "Mn."

James's eyes dipped, for less than a second, to Jian's lips before he looked back to his dinner. "Thank you."

Jian's entire body stumbled again. He didn't know why James should thank him.

Chapter 15

Summary:

James set his chopsticks down and reached for his wine. "I didn't say that."

Notes:

happy fri 13th

The movie was a nature documentary. James asked Jian what he wanted to watch; Jian told the truth. James smiled quietly as he put it on and it made Jian's cheeks tingle. It was a documentary about the fossil of an ichthyosaur, or – to use the more alluring language of the film's title – a sea dragon. They sat side by side on the sofa. James, from the film's beginning, wrapped an arm around Jian's shoulders. Jian, from almost the film's beginning, leant into him. A now familiar scent. A now familiar body heat. A now familiar feeling of hot, nervous comfort.

 

James paid for an Uber as the credits rolled. Jian said he didn't mind bussing.

"Well I'd rather you didn't." was the only reply James offered.

 

He got a kiss before stepping out the door. Soft and close-lipped. Gentle fingers. The brush of facial hair. Not yet familiar, but well on its way.

 

Jian showered once home. His mum wasn't in. He made a mental note to do the laundry tomorrow and, if he had time before school, to tidy the flat too. Snuggling down into bed, he pulled out his phone.

 

It was rare for Jian to use his phone before sleeping. He didn't have any games; didn't care for social media; didn't have lengthy text conversations; didn't like porn. Tonight, it was a mindless few taps that took him to a news website. No active intention underpinned the navigation; once it registered, however, his brain led him back to this morning's conversation. Assumptions or implications.

 

He made his way to the crime section. It was only a few headlines down that the topic he was after lay:

 

Fresh Appeal After Latest Babysitter Killing

 

Jian wasn't sure he had the energy to digest any large amount of text and he struggled to skim-read; writhing letters weren't conducive to such a thing. He tapped the link nonetheless and decided simply to let his mind do as it would.

 

Preceding any words was a photo of the last girl killed; the same photo used in every article Jian had seen about her. Bright, shining eyes; deep brown skin; a smile that came from the soul. Hers was a face the city now knew; a face strangers had been given. Jian made himself look at her eyes and felt the faintest of lumps grow in his throat. He thought of her family. Her parents. He scrolled past.

 

Checks for new information have been carried out at the scene of 17-year-old Amira Morgan's murder.

 

Police are investigating Morgan's death in relation to a chain of killings that have taken place across the city over this and last year. The killings have so far been limited to the suburbs and all five victims have been female babysitters, ranging from 14-18 years.

 

Officers spoke to neighbours, asking again if they "recalled seeing or hearing anything" around the time of Morgan's death.

 

Jian's brain checked out. There were no implications or assumptions he could pick up nor find interest in. He closed the article and locked his phone. He'd never liked true crime; he found it sat with him for days afterwards: heavy and disturbed. Jian tucked his face into his pillow and Amira's smiling face forced itself in front of his mind's eye. None of the girls had been sexually violated; none of the girls had been mutilated. It was the weakest of comforts, but it was all anyone could be thankful for in the face of these things.

 

* * *

 

"Jian?"

Jian kept slicing carrot. "Mn?"

"Have you seen when animals kill each other in the documentaries?"

At this, Jian stopped slicing and looked up at where Liam sat at the kitchen island. "Yeah."

Liam's expression was clear and thoughtful. "Why is it different when humans kill each other?"

Jian squinted at him, gut shifting uncomfortably. He looked down at the knife he held, then set it aside. "What?"

Liam made a noise of consideration. "Well, Mrs. Martinez was talking to Mrs. Lamb about it and they were saying it was so sad and so awful, but they don't say that about when a cat kills a mouse."

Jian picked his knife back up and resumed meal prep. "S'different, Li." He muttered. "I dunno why they were talkin' 'bout that in front 'f you."

Liam grumbled. "You sound like daddy."

At that, Jian's body flinched violently and his hand faltered. Shame swarmed his skin and dirtiness itched beneath. It felt perverse for that same word to have left his lips. His stomach rolled and he dug his teeth into the inside of his cheek, waiting for the feeling to pass. When it did: "Animals kill each other f'r food 'n'-- territory or-- f'r mates." he muttered. "Humans kill each other f'r different reasons. S'not the same as a cat 'n' mouse." He finished chopping the carrot and dumped all the little pieces into the bowl on his right. "Doesn't mean s'not sad when y'see animals kill each other. People just-- don't say it in the same way."

Liam looked at the bowl of carrots. "Mrs. Martinez sounded like she was scared."

"Yeah." Jian muttered. "She prob'ly is." He flicked his eyes up, then back to the kitchen workbench. He reached for the celery sticks he'd rinsed earlier. "But you don't have t' worry."

"Are you scared too?" Liam wondered.

Jian's chest fractured quietly. No, not scared. Something else. "Don't think your dad would like us talkin' 'bout this." He said.

Liam went quiet.

Jian began slicing celery. "Why don't you go draw?" He asked.

Liam let out an indecisive sound in response.

Jian tracked the rhythm of his knife hitting the chopping board. "Are you scared?" He tried.

Liam went quiet again. He was watching Jian's motions. "No. It just made me feel weird when I heard them." He said. "Like my tummy went all heavy and cold, but it's fine now."

Jian dropped the chopped celery in with the carrot. "Sure it's fine?" He looked up at Liam and ran his eyes over his features. "Don't want you havin' bad dreams."

Liam nodded resolutely. "I felt better when you came to get me." He said. "Like when daddy gets home." He smiled, eyes brightening. "It feels like nothing bad can happen."

Jian's chest fractured again. He tried to smile back but knew it was inadequate. "Go draw." He said. "I'll join when 'm finished this."

 

Liam followed the direction and Jian was left in the kitchen feeling heavy and cold, just like the kid had described. He ignored it. Liam's dinner was a basic fried rice with veggies. Jian allowed him to eat it at the coffee table as he continued drawing. He halfheartedly drew as well, but no more than a few weak doodles. Liam seemed to have satisfied the small and morbidly curious niggle in his brain and spoke mostly of frogs.

 

James got home as Jian helped Liam with brushing his teeth. Jian's chest tightened and his gut fluttered as he let Liam race out to greet his father. He stayed in the bathroom a moment longer to rinse Liam's toothbrush and tried to figure out if he liked this feeling of nerves.

 

James had Liam lifted off the ground and held to his hip as Jian emerged. He gave Jian a mild smile as his eyes fell on him. "Hey."

Jian's ears tinged. "Hi."

James adjusted his hold on his son. "I'm gonna tuck him in." He said.

Jian nodded and found Liam's eyes. "G'night."

Liam looked ever so slightly affected by sleepiness, now. "Night."

James stepped back.

 

Jian had cooked enough rice earlier for his and James's dinner too. Alone in the kitchen, he got out a pan. This batch of fried rice, he decided to make spicy. James usually read to Liam when tucking him in; it was a solid 20 minutes before he was back down, out of his work clothes as Jian neared the end of this bout of cooking. A kiss was dropped to Jian's crown as James moved to get himself a wine glass.

Jian's throat clicked. He reached to turn the hob off. "Dunno 'f he-- asked you 'nythin', but." Jian got out two bowls. "Liam-- asked 'bout the killin's. Or-- he overheard his teacher's talkin' 'bout them 'n' he asked me why s'different when humans kill each other versus animals." Jian looked at the bowls he'd set on the side. "I dunno. Just-- figured you'd want t' know."

James uncapped a wine bottle and said nothing for a moment. Red liquid met crystalline glass. Jian could smell it. "Is that all he asked?" James finally spoke, recapping the bottle and glancing at Jian. "Why it's different."

"Yeah." disjointedly, Jian lifted his bowl and served himself a portion of food. "'N' said his teacher sounded scared 'n' asked 'f I was."

"What did you say?" James asked. "To all of it."

Jian got himself some chopsticks and moved to the kitchen island; James made no move to get himself some food, just watched Jian with his wine in-hand. Jian swallowed. "Said humans 'n' animals don't-- kill f'r the same reasons, but that doesn't mean s'not sad when animals kill each other. Said his teacher prob'ly is scared 'n'-- didn't really answer 'bout if I was." He looked at the island top. "He said he felt better seein' me."

James hummed and, at last, moved to get his dinner. "Mrs. Martinez has two teenage daughters." He said. "Before I had you and when I went to pick Li up," James slipped his bowl and wine before the space beside Jian, then came round. "she mentioned the killings in almost every conversation we had."

Jian's brain snatched the words before I had you and held them so fiercely that he had trouble following what had come before and after. Had you. He stared at his rice. James was speaking, naturally, with regard to Jian being under his employ. But the statement really did bleed outwards. And Jian... wanted James to have him, tangled and discordant as the feeling was.

"If I had a daughter that age," James moved his chopsticks through his food. "it'd probably occupy all my thoughts, too."

Jian tried to clear his head. "So you-- don't think they'll ever kill a boy?"

James made a small noise and took a mouthful. Upon swallowing, "I don't know." he admitted, glancing at Jian and running his eyes over his face. "I don't think anyone could answer that question."

Jian picked out a piece of bell pepper. "The killer could."

James made another noise. "You think?" He looked back to his meal.

Jian paused. Genuine impulses. "So-- they don't even- realise what they're doing?"

James set his chopsticks down and reached for his wine. "I didn't say that."

Jian bit the inside of his lip.

James's throat bobbed as he had a sip. The glass was placed back on the counter with a dull noise. "Were there any foods you hated when you were little that you eat now?"

Jian felt his brow flicker. "Tomatoes."

James gave him a soft smile. "Right." He took up his chopsticks again. "It's possible for tastes to change." He said. "It might be unlikely. It might be unpredictable. But it's possible."

Jian looked at James's hands. His gut shifted with a lazy kind of heat.

"Maybe they won't even kill again." James said in the tone of idle speculation. "Some serial killers, sometimes, just stop. They have a kid or meet a partner or experience any number of significant life changes that either inhibit their previous lifestyle or satisfy what drove them to kill in the first place."

Jian tongued his back molar. "I don't think so."

James's lips twitched. "No?"

Jian shook his head. "Feels-- like it will happen again."

James let out another hum. "You didn't answer Liam when he asked if you were scared."

Jian picked out another piece of bell pepper. "Dunno." He lifted it to his lips and nibbled, then took it fully into his mouth. He swallowed. "Sometimes. Other times, it just makes me sad."

James slipped a hand onto his thigh and squeezed gently.

Jian's gut jumped and his throat clicked.

James took the hand back and kept eating. "Stay?" He asked.

Jian flicked his gaze up, felt his face warm, and nodded.

James smiled.

Chapter 16

Summary:

James rubbed his thumb over Jian's lip, eyes moving over his features critically. "Yes?"

Jian did the dishes. The occasional distant twinkle of headlights on a dark road drifted through the kitchen window. It was pretty. It was quiet. James was in his home office; he'd told Jian to come get him when he was done tidying up. Jian's mind wandered. With every weak, passing light, he thought about how many killers sat behind a wheel; how many were driving home; how many had already arrived; how many sat with their spouses and children, smiling and talking and slotting perfectly into one half of a world they had carved. Jian pulled the plug and peeled off his rubber gloves. He wondered if he'd ever sat next to a murderer on a bus. He hung the gloves over the inside rail of the cupboard under the sink and reached for a cloth to wipe down the counters. The amount of people that went missing, never to be found; the amount of people who knew where they were. His stomach had grown lumpy and uncomfortable. He knew people could do awful things to each other. He saw how it fashioned the world in which he currently found himself. But he didn't – not truly – comprehend it. He wished that might be an experience shared by more of the population.

 

Jian gave the door of James's office a small knock before pushing it open. The blinds were drawn and the light was on; soft and warm. James sat at his desk, monitors before him displaying emails and documents.

James didn't look back to him, just murmured a gentle, "Give me five minutes, sweetheart."

Jian's heart stopped. Restarted. Stopped. Restarted. Skipped several hundred beats. Then stopped again. He felt hot and paralysed and--

 

Without even registering the action, he closed the door behind himself. If it made a noise, his ears didn't find it.

 

-he felt hot and paralysed and cared for.

 

Cared for in the most mindless manner. As if James hardly considered the fact. It felt nice in the most excruciating way.

 

Jian bit the inside of his cheek and looked at his socks, mind buzzing with inaccessible noise. Sweetheart. Spoken in James's low velvet. Echoing in his head. Warmth pounded on Jian's face.

 

The endearment had been used before, of course. But that had been different. That had been entangled with heat; in the aftermath, in the lead up, in the act. It had never existed – it had never been offered to Jian – separated, entirely, from either of their hard cocks. He liked the shape of the word a lot better tonight.

 

He moved from the door and dropped onto the sofa against the righthand wall. James was tapping away at his keyboard; Jian saw an email unfurl on-screen. He closed his eyes.

 

It was impossible to say how long passed before a warm hand threaded into his hair and Jian blinked his eyes open.

James gave him a small smile. "You look pretty." He said, hand slipping from Jian's hair and cupping his cheek. "With your eyes closed."

Jian's throat clicked and his gaze fell to James's chest. He stood directly before Jian.

"You don't scowl as much." smooth fingers lifted to trace the space between Jian's eyebrows. "Just look pretty." James's fingers came down, down, down. His thumb grazed Jian's lower lip and his fingers, under Jian's chin, guided his face upward. "I wanna fuck you."

Jian's gut dropped right out of his body. It was a sensation so vicious, he could barely process it. It was a sensation tainted by ripping, tearing, shredding. It was zero to one hundred, without warning. It was, beneath everything – or, perhaps, over it – hot.

James rubbed his thumb over Jian's lip, eyes moving over his features critically. "Yes?"

God yes. Jian's mouth felt dry. He could only nod.

James's mouth curved by the faintest degree. "Okay." His hand slipped from Jian's face and he stepped back. "Wait here."

Jian's throat clicked. He nodded again.

 

James closed the door softly after he stepped out and the office fell dead quiet. Jian's heart floundered in his chest; heat licked his gut. Slowly, he shifted so he sat cross-legged. Then put his feet back on the floor. Slotted his hands between his thighs. Gnawed on his lip. Felt his cock starting to fill. Felt his ears burn. Returned to sitting cross-legged.

 

James wasn't long. He held lube in his left hand and set it on the desk before stopping before Jian and threading a hand back into his hair. "Okay?"

Jian nodded.

James hummed and continued to play with Jian's hair, his eyes tracing the movements.

Jian's face felt hot; his gut twisted with fire. The scrutiny – an idle, absentminded kind of scrutiny – seemed to worm under his skin and gnaw in a way that was as unpleasant as it was welcome. His hard cock tented in his sweats and he was certain the sound of his heartbeat consumed the room.

"I find it beautiful," James said, pushing back the hair at Jian's forehead. "that you would rather be killed, than kill."

The statement came out of the deepest of blues and Jian was, for a moment, stuck trying to process it.

James's gaze slipped from Jian's hair and he made eye contact. "I know it's morbid." He said. "But I like that you're more scared of doing harm than being harmed. It suits you."

Jian didn't know how to answer that; he didn't know when James had drawn the conclusion or why.

James's hand slipped from his hair to hold under his chin.

Jian's skin prickled. His voice was small. "Are you-- the opposite?"

James grazed his thumb over the space below Jian's mouth. "Yeah, I think so."

Jian's heart was dead-set on wearing itself out. "S'more-- natural." He tried. "Animal instincts."

"Maybe." James said.

Jian's eyes flittered to James's chest. He wasn't sure why they were having this conversation "You-- wouldn't think it was- beautiful 'f we never talked 'bout this stuff." He mumbled and it wasn't right; "I mean- 'f-- the only reason we've talked 'bout it is cos 'f what's-- happenin'. That's-- doesn't that make it less beautiful?"

James's mouth curved, ever so faintly. "No, baby." He shifted his hand and tilted Jian's head up. "It doesn't."

Jian's throat clicked.

James leant down.

 

The kiss was slow and deliberate; the confused disconcertion – a feeling impossibly slight – that had begun to uncoil within Jian melted away. His eyelids fluttered shut. James's hands both came to rest on Jian's neck. There was no pressure, he simply held. Jian liked it. A lot.

 

James was the one to break the kiss. His hands left Jian and he stepped back, retrieving the lube. "Strip." He instructed softly.

Jian's blood fizzed. Legs feeling unrealiable, he stood. The action put him within James's space; left less than an inch between their bodies. James made no move to step back. Jian bit his lip.

 

He kept his eyes to the side as he stripped off his tops. His fingers were clumsy as he pulled loose his drawstring. There was a faint wet patch on his boxers, where his cock had leaked. He peeled them off. Kept his socks on.

 

James was silent, just ran his eyes over Jian's body. Finally, he stepped forward, kissed Jian's cheek and squeezed his waist, then sat on the sofa. He dropped the lube beside himself and patted his lap. Jian's teeth sank deeper into his lip. He moved.

 

He settled on James's lap with disjointed movements and a face on fire. James's hands slipped to hold his sides and his gaze found Jian's wet dick.

"I want you to take out my cock." he said, sights still downward.

Jian swallowed thickly. A bead of pre built at his slit. He felt like, if he were to be cut open, a fierce surge of steam would burst from split flesh. James's fly button was cold; freezing, almost, against fingertips that felt like they were burning. It came undone with ease. The base of Jian's gut tightened. He undid the zipper and James's jeans opened. The outline of his erection strained against his boxers. It was – for a mind with more current capacity – embarrassing, the way Jian's dick twitched. Electricity sparked within him as he lifted his fingers to James's waistband, then pulled it down. His cock sprang free. Thick and hard. Jian could have moaned. His eyes flicked up to James's, waiting for further instruction.

James gave him a slight smile. "Finger yourself with one hand and touch me with the other."

Jian's stomach jumped hotly. He took the lube, squeezed a couple of drops over his left fingers, then recapped it and dropped it aside. James's eyes traced his movements. Jian's cock was dripping and the chaos inside his gut was almighty. He shuffled forward; his cock brushed James's and his breath hitched. He rose on his knees and his cock now brushed James's shirt; another hitched breath. Jian reached his left hand back – cheeks so warm it hurt – and rubbed slick fingers over his hole. He wrapped his right hand around James's base. It was so hot, so hard, so thick; he loved that his fingers couldn't touch.

"Good boy." James murmured and Jian, honest to god, couldn't help a slight moan in response. His cheeks itched.

Slow, he pushed his fingers inside himself. Slow, he twisted his grip on James's cock. Together, he started to move his hands. "Fuck." His fingers less than barely skimmed his prostate and Jian was starting to feel lightheaded. He dropped his forehead to rest on James's shoulder, breaths coming quick and shallow. He jerked James off with tight motions; they would stutter, sometimes, in response to the motions of his left hand. Jian gradually started to fuck his fingers faster and faster into himself; he wasn't tracking the movements, he was just horny.

 

James was quiet. Once or twice, he kissed or nosed Jian's hair. Otherwise, he just watched. Cock rock hard and, very occasionally, twitching. Jian's own cock was oozing enough pre to make James's shirt damp. Every now and then, Jian's hips bucked without his permission and this meant his erection grinded against James's solid torso. Fuck, if it didn't make pleasure eat at Jian's bones. He stopped noticing the moans that left him; stopped trying to stifle them. He just watched with unfocused eyes at his fist working James's big length and forced his fingers hard and deep inside himself.

 

"Stop."

 

The word sort of drifted, lost, on the air. How long it drifted before finding Jian's ears and how long it drifted through these before finding his brain was never to be known. When it did, however, Jian's heart hiccuped. He bit his lip. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on James's cock, then let go; stilled his fingers, then pulled them out. Body awash with tingles, Jian lifted his head from James's shoulder. James squeezed his waist.

"Slick up my cock." he said. "Then I want you to ride me."

Jian looked at James's shirt; at the damp patch caused by his precum. His throat bobbed. His mind spun.

"Jian."

Jian flicked his eyes back up.

James lifted his eyebrows.

Jian's cock throbbed. James wore this so well; gentle authority. Unflinching, yet tender. Jian was almost surprised the damp patch on James's shirt was only pre.

 

He got the lube and let a small amount drip onto James's cock. Jian couldn't keep his eyes off it. The head was so, so thick. The sight alone was enough to make Jian's toes curl. It was hard to comprehend it had been inside him; something that big, making him feel that good. He smeared the lube over James's shaft and then slid his hand down to hold the base.

His eyes rose to James's. His voice was unsteady. "Like-- this?"

James's gaze travelled Jian. He hummed. "Yeah." Low, dark, smooth. "Good boy."

Jian fucking whimpered. His cheeks were alight. He shifted his hips and the tip of James's cock grazed his hole. Jian was helpless against another little sound. He humped his hips a couple of times, rubbing James's head over his entrance. James's eyes were fastened to the body before him; Jian couldn't look anywhere else but his left shoulder. He held James steady, then started to sink down.

 

Two fingers – especially two of Jian's fingers – were a fraction of James's girth. The lube made things smoother, but the stretch still burnt. Jian's breath caught in his throat and his cock pushed out a small amount of pre. James's head slipped inside with a small shot of pain. Pre dribbled down the side of Jian's cock. He was breathing out of time. He pushed, pushed, pushed. James's cock sank slowly deeper and Jian could feel every fucking inch until he was sheathed to the hilt and Jian sat, cock drooling, on James's lap.

James's eyes were dark. He looked at Jian's face, then downwards. With his right hand, he pinched one of Jian's nipples and Jian's hips jerked. James's mouth twitched. His hand came away. "You're so wet."

Jian chewed his lip, his body hardly able to keep up with everything it was feeling.

James trailed his forefinger up the side of Jian's dick.

"Mmng."

James's finger reached the tip and came away, glistening. "Move, baby." He said.

Jian could barely see straight. James was so, so deep. So, so big. Jian-- fuck, he'd never been this hot before. "I-- don't know how."

James watched him.

Jian broke eye contact.

Big hands returned to Jian's hips. "Up," James spoke and guided Jian off his cock by about an inch; Jian's hole clenched. "and down." James guided Jian back down; Jian swallowed a moan. His hands came away. "It's not complicated."

Jian gave himself a moment. He shifted to grip James's shoulders and kept his gaze to the side. Heat blistered under every millimetre of his skin. He lifted himself, trying to mimic the distance James had moved him, then dropped back down. It stung. It felt good. James's thick length grazed his sweet spot and Jian's fingers dug into his shoulders. He repeated the action. Again and again. James made no complaint; offered no praise. Just watched.

 

It wasn't long before Jian's mind had fogged. Quiet smacks began to underpin many of his motions. He rode James fast and needy and without much skill. His cock continued to drool. His thighs started to burn. Short moans were fucked out of Jian, every time he dropped down. James leant his head back on the couch and half-lidded eyes remained fixed to each and every one of Jian's movements.

 

Jian didn't register hands back on his waist. Didn't register when they tightened.

 

"Fuck!"

 

James, as Jian rose, gripped his waist and yanked him back down, forcing his hips up at the same time. Jian's mind went blank. Something molten - something so hot it was painful - exploded inside him. His cock pulsed and he came, hard, onto James's shirt. James took no notice. He simply did it again.

 

Jian's head fell back with a throaty whine. James snapped his hips mean. His cock slammed into Jian and all Jian could do was feel.

 

High, dirty-sounding moans filled the air: uh, uh, uhs and fuck daddys. Dull slaps lay beneath. Harsh breaths and the occasional groan or cuss, beneath this.

 

Jian genuinely couldn't say how long it went on. He could say his cock began to ooze more cum at some point and, on the following thrust, squirted, just as hard as the first time. He could say his moans grew raw. He could say it hurt in the best possible way.

 

When James came, he buried himself deep and rocked his hips a few times. A soft grunt left him and Jian could feel the way his cock was pulsing inside. He panted. His lashes were wet. The grip on his waist eased. Their noses grazed. James released a slow breath and brushed their lips together.

"I want you here," he spoke in a lowered tone. "all the time." His teeth teased Jian's lower lip. "Every morning. Every night." He caught Jian's eyes as Jian's breath continued to land fast and hot against him. "I like this," His hands slipped to Jian's ass and his hips rolled slow, cock moving inside Jian and making him moan softly. "more than I've liked anything else."

Jian might have started to cry. He thought the only thing that stopped him was the haziness that lingered in his well-fucked body; everything felt a little drowsier, a little further away. He could feel the way he twitched around James. He swallowed hard. "Like-- it too."

James released a breath of laughter. "Mm." He said, eyes slipping to Jian's spent cock. "I figured."

Jian felt himself scowl.

James released another breath. A moment of silence extended, then withdrew. "What do you go home to?" He asked.

Jian's scowl faded to a frown. His voice told of the way he'd been moaning. "What?"

"I want to know if you have siblings; what your parents do."

Jian adjusted himself unconsciously and fractionally. His eyes settled on James's neat beard. "Why?"

James looked at him.

Jian's skin prickled.

James's hands slid to hold Jian's hips. Firm and reassuring. "I want to know how long you could stay here before someone at home asks you questions."

Jian's throat clicked. The inclination to cry crept a little deeper into his body. "No siblings." His chest began to ache, muted and subdued. "M' mum's a nurse. M' dad's--" He swallowed again. Didn't want to finish.

James was quiet, eyes trained on Jian's face, for a long time. When the time was up, he spoke softly: "Dead?"

Jian gave a single, jerky nod.

James's thumbs traced lazy patterns against skin. He didn't say what everyone always said. He asked, "When?"

Objectively, this was one of the worst possible times to be talking of his dead father; sitting on the cock of a man old enough, himself, to be Jian's dad. But it wasn't shame or discomfort that visited Jian now. It was the way he could feel James's body heat; the gentle brushes of his thumbs; the steady gaze. It was raw and vulnerable. It was Jian's biggest source of hurt. And it was safe. He didn't want to pick it apart, he was just grateful it felt this way. "Almost five years ago."

James continued to watch him. Continued to draw soft patterns on his hips. "Do you think about him a lot?"

Jian's eyes misted a little. He nodded.

James's thumbs stopped and he squeezed Jian again.

Jian sniffed and, all of a sudden, began to dislike this moment just as much as he liked it. "M'-- mum works a lot 'f nights." He muttered.

James hummed.

Jian took his lower lip into his mouth.

"Liam's mother died." James said. "Leukaemia."

Jian lifted his gaze, throat tightening.

"Liam was only two. He gets sad sometimes, but I don't think he remembers her as deeply as he might have." James's sights found Jian's mouth. "If he was older, I think he would've worn grief the same way you do."

Jian's heart stuttered. He had no idea what James meant.

James exhaled and shifted to stroke Jian's hair. "I didn't want to assume, but I wondered." He traced the shell of Jian's ear. "There's just something about the way you speak and move; something sad, but tough and tender."

Jian's heart was beating without rhythm for no reason.

James's hand returned to Jian's hip. "I don't hold grief like that." He was looking at Jian's lips again. "So I like seeing it."

Jian didn't know what to say.

James let out a breath through his nose. "Will you stay here whenever your mum's working a night shift?"

Jian's cheeks warmed. He nodded.

James rubbed a hand up and down his back. "Shower?"

Jian's cheeks warmed further. He nodded again.

 

There was always too much to process here. Jian didn't know how far behind he was; if it even mattered anymore.

Chapter 17

Summary:

That didn't mean time wouldn't pass and, like waves eating away at a cliff-face, things wouldn't erode.

Notes:

cut this one in half sorry,, busy week n managed my time terribly. but will aim for next update to be next weekend instead of next next >:)

Later, as he lay in bed – his bed at home – all that played in his mind was every morning, every night. Over and again. Jian couldn't sleep. A perpetual tightness coiled in his gut. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't nice, either. It was adjacent to anxiety and yet such a description felt wholly misplaced. All Jian could do was lie there. Mind fizzing. Body twisted. Stuck.

 

Something else within him, somewhere he couldn't quite locate, was happy. A soft breed of happy. Impossibly quiet against the backdrop of everything else, but stubborn in its existence. Jian lost and found it amongst the mess at infrequent intervals.

 

He slipped off for an hour or two before waking. James, naturally, was the first thing to grace conscious thought – and, no doubt, the only thing to have graced unconscious thought – and both the tight coil and indistinct happiness remained extant. Jian rolled over and tucked his face into his pillow. He thought of James's face and his body; of how perfectly, infuriatingly flawless they were. Jian's private ideal, plucked from hazy imaginings and crafted into a tangible reality without fault; things added that he'd not even known he'd wanted. That wasn't fair. He thought of James's personality and fair, now, seemed a weak and fantastical concept altogether. Kind; so kind it was mindless. Mature and self-assured; enough to make Jian's stomach flutter at the merest consideration. Gentle. Patient. Reassuring. Comforting. It was as if someone had reached their hand inside Jian's chest, taken hold of his beating heart and understood exactly what it meant.

 

He thought, next, of James seeing through whatever it currently was that made Jian worthwhile in his eyes. This thought was enough to make Jian's chest flinch, sharp and stinging. This thought hurt. This thought scared him. And yet, he thought, it was something he would have to face. Sooner or later. Every morning. Every night. In no world could that extend into infinity. Jian wasn't pretty enough; smart enough; funny enough; anything enough.

 

James was too good to be anything other than genuine. Jian did trust him. That didn't mean time wouldn't pass and, like waves eating away at a cliff-face, things wouldn't erode.

 

* * *

 

The weekend saw Jian reject an invitation to spend time with the boys; decline Kendra's offer of a catch up and coffee on the house. He stayed in bed until half-eleven on Saturday. He cleaned the flat, when up. He tried not to think about James. Sunday was spent doing homework. His mum had the day off; they ate dinner together. He felt dirty every time she smiled at him.

 

* * *

 

Liam was teaching him what he'd learnt at preschool that day: how to make cornflour slime. Jian had to admit he was more than sold, punching down at the liquid and meeting something solid. This was, for him, when science became a little magical.

Liam grinned, watching the action. "Awesome, right?"

Jian could feel a small smile tugging at his lips. "Mn." He poked his finger slowly into the previously solid mixture and watched it sink through. "Awesome."

 

The slime kept both occupied for longer than Jian would reasonably have expected. It was only the approach of Liam's dinner time that pushed him to tell Liam to wash his hands. Jian cleaned everything up and got started on a simple pasta dish. Liam didn't ask to put the TV on, he settled at the kitchen island and discussed the cornflour slime some more; all the cool facts he'd learnt, plus some insights of his own (if my skin was slime, I'd be pretty invincible; Jian didn't follow the logic here, but he enjoyed the sentiment regardless).

 

James still wasn't home by the time Jian was tucking Liam in; he'd not messaged to tell Jian how late he was going to be. Jian wasn't sure when to start on their meal or what to do in the meantime. He tried plodding through some homework before giving up and settling down with a nature documentary: Blue Planet.

 

He fell asleep mid-way through the second episode. Jian could feel his eyes growing heavy and was half-aware of the way they started to slip shut until he noticed and blinked them open again; he could almost trace the way sleep's fingers grew longer and longer, wrapping around him and squeezing. But he still hadn't meant to actually let go. He'd wanted to be awake when James got home.

 

Sleep settled over him with an immense heaviness. Reality untethered itself. Jian's brain opened its doors and got down to business. Strange thoughts rolled like the tide through Jian's unknowing head. Strange images played out. An absence of logic reordered reasonable expectation.

 

Jian was beneath James. This image emerged from fog and expanded. This image replaced anything that had come before it and cast them out of existence. Jian was naked beneath James. He was breathing out of time. James was naked above him, also breathing out of time. His hard cock was buried in Jian's ass. His mouth was on Jian's ear. His hips were rolling with slow, deep thrusts. Jian was moaning. His body was molten. He could feel it, but he couldn't feel it. Something felt muted. Something felt burning. Pain with no teeth. Pleasure with no bite. Still good. Still James leant over him; moving inside him. Still where Jian wanted to be; to stay. A hand found his throat. James's hips sped up. The hand tightened. The images began to darken; hazy as if Jian was now seeing through misted windows. Then darker still. Tighter still. As if the sun was setting and no lights were being put on. Pain grew more teeth, but no realer. His throat almost ached. It almost scared him. And still James fucked him. Harder. Harsh, rhythmic snaps. Jian woke.

 

It was a disorientating moment that visited him now. Arousal fizzed, confused and ill at ease, in his gut; his cock was hard in his sweats; his chest was heavy. There was a hand in his hair. There was the pleasant timbre of David Attenborough's voice. There was James, petting him, eyes on the TV. Jian's head was on James's lap; had been moved onto James's lap. He made a slight noise. The hand in his hair stilled.

James looked down. "Hey."

Jian's stomach twisted – nerves; the nice kind – and his gut rolled – arousal; the hot kind. He felt his cheeks warm and pushed himself upright. "Hi."

James's eyes travelled him. They passed over Jian's crotch and the tent present, but didn't linger. A soft smile was offered to Jian as they gazes met again. "You okay?"

Jian couldn't maintain eye contact. Nodded stiffly. "When-- d'you get back?"

James let out an ambiguous noise and reached to thread his hand back int Jian's hair. "About half an hour ago."

His nails scratched gently over Jian's scalp. It felt so nice; Jian nearly closed his eyes again. "What d'you want f'r dinner?"

"I don't mind." James answered, hand coming out of Jian's hair and moving to cup his face. "Were you dreaming about me?"

Jian's cock twitched and his chest constricted. "No."

James clicked his tongue, fingers under Jian's chin tightening by the finest margin. "Don't lie, baby." He said, soft and low. "It doesn't suit you."

Jian's cock – fuck knows why – twitched again. He bit his lower lip and stared at James's right shoulder. The images that had been playing behind sleeping eyelids were slipping rapidly away; he knew not to grab at them. All he remembered was the hand on his throat and the way it got tighter, tighter, tighter.

James's thumb brushed the skin beneath Jian's mouth.

Jian's throat bobbed. "I don't think it was--" He didn't know what word to use. He didn't know if it was desire or anxiety. "-don't think-- you'd like it."

James made another noise; this one curious. His eyes had dipped and now rested on Jian's mouth.

Jian's heart had climbed into his throat and lurched with irregular beats. "You had your hand-- on m' neck 'n'-" The base of Jian's gut flickered. "-dunno. It-- so tight, m' vision started goin' 'n'-- I dunno."

James's eyes began to feel as if they might cut Jian's skin. His thumb traced Jian's bottom lip. Pressure underpinned the action; Jian's arousal developed fangs. "Strip." James murmured.

Jian blinked at him, head feeling clouded and slow.

James's hand came off his face.

Jian stood on shaky legs.

 

David Attenborough was thankfully switched off as Jian stripped. He kept his socks on, everything else landing heavy on the lush carpet. James widened his legs and gestured for Jian to climb into his lap. He was hard, under his slacks. Jian's cock glistened.

 

As soon as he was settled, James's hands found Jian's waist and rubbed up and down. Then his right hand smoothed up Jian's chest. Up, up, up. He paused at the base of Jian's throat. His eyes were fastened to his own hand. It inched up. Warm. Big. A bead of precum built at Jian's slit. His cock was hard and throbbing, entirely untouched. James's eyes flicked up, then back down. He tightened his hand. An easy pressure bore down on Jian's windpipe. It felt-- god, it felt--

 

He rolled his hips, without meaning to. James made no comment. All he did was tighten his hand again.

 

Jian's breathing was, largely, unhindered. But it was rapidly losing itself. Every time he swallowed, he felt the way it worked against the hand holding him. It felt like--

 

"I want you to tell me your mum's schedule." James said in that same soft, low tone. "So I know when you're staying the night." He gave Jian's throat the gentlest squeeze. Jian's heart was beating madly and he was about to say yes, or nod, or manage whatever affirmative first offered itself to him, when: "I'll give you forty an hour." James added. "Fifty, if you want it."

And Jian's gut – snaking around itself and shooting out these little sparks – dropped. An almost sickening feeling. A short sound slipped from his throat. Discontent.

James's eyes lifted. His brows furrowed lightly. "No?"

Jian wanted-- to pull back, to pause, to just-- "I'd-" -his voice was faint and a touch raw. "-do it f'r free, I don't want..." He got no further. He couldn't understand why James had even offered.

James looked at him. Hand still fixed around his throat. "Okay."

Jian swallowed, face pounding with heat. He dropped his eyes to James's shirt collar.

"I didn't mean to upset you." James said, thumb grazing a small amount of skin.

Jian swallowed again; felt it move against James's grip again. He didn't know what this was between them, but he had imagined it wasn't – not remotely – transactional. It stung that he might have misunderstood.

"Baby." James's hand came loose, slipping instead to hold Jian's waist. "Look at me."

Jian flicked his eyes up.

James rubbed hot skin. "I didn't mean it like that."

Jian's chest still stung, but now with something closer to shame. Of course James hadn't meant it like that; all is was, was generosity. He nodded.

James thumbed his waist.

Jian's throat clicked.

James exhaled gently through his nose. His hand came off Jian's waist and cupped the back of his head, tugging Jian – simultaneously firm and soft – into an embrace. Jian gave no resistance, eyes slipping shut and face nestling against the crook of James's neck. The scent of cologne filled his senses. James's second hand traced up and down Jian's spine. He gave Jian's hair a kiss. Jian thought about giving James's neck a kiss in return; his gut jumped and his heart stuttered. He pressed himself closer, but couldn't work up the courage. His throat felt a little bare.

Chapter 18

Summary:

A moment came. A moment ended.

Notes:

spent time this week editing this fr,,, some shocking spelling + phrasing + general quality. kinda been sleepwalking the past yr but. ty for bearing w 🫶 its on the up

He remained hard. His cock was pressed to James's clothed abdomen. And, while the fire had dimmed under statements Jian had been unprepared for, it did not go out. Now, with his face tucked against the spot where James's cologne was most strong, it grew again. Jian wasn't sure what to do; if he'd killed the mood; how to ask. James nosed his hair and rested his hand on Jian's nape, thumb grazing with slow, steady motions.

 

"You spoke in your sleep." he said.

Jian didn't know what to say in response.

"Think it was Chinese." James's thumb stilled. "It sounded nice."

Jian shifted his head, very slightly. His voice was quiet and the words uncertain as he continued to struggle orientating himself; aroused, embarrassed, guilty, hesitant, safe; all of it knotted together. "People've said s'an ugly language."

"That's nothing to do with you." James returned. "And nothing to do with your language."

Jian's chest winced; a nice feeling or, at least, a feeling that came from a nice place.

"It sounded pretty to me."

Jian's throat clicked. James hadn't yet changed from his work clothes; the fabric of his dress shirt was fresh against Jian's cheek. "Wonder what I said."

James hummed.

Jian stopped picking at the knot inside himself. It would unravel faster on its own.

"You went quiet when you started getting hard."

The fire flickered.

James's thumb resumed its idle strokes. "I'd've liked hearing you moan for me."

The knot melted. Nothing remained. Jian's cock pulsed.

"Lift you head, baby."

Jian swallowed hard and, after taking either a full second or a full minute, obeyed.

James gave him a faint smile, eyes travelling his features. "You okay?"

Jian nodded.

James smoothed a hand over his cheek. "I shouldn't have said what I did." His eyes followed the action of his thumb brushing the skin beneath Jian's eye. "I only meant that I'm willing to give you anything you ask for." His eyes slipped to Jian's throat. "I don't intend for you to feel obligated in return."

Jian's heart seemed to fill his entire chest. "S'hard-- not to."

James made a noise of acknowledgement, eyes lingering, before they continued downward. "I can't control that." He said and a note of distraction now entered his tone. "All I ask is that you trust me."

Jian bit his lip, skin starting to prickle under James's heated gaze. He nodded and it was a pointless motion, given where James's sights were directed: Jian's cock. Hard, flushed, glistening. Jian couldn't help it. He rocked his hips.

 

It was an action without intention; more of a feeling than anything; the fire in his gut burning out of all control. It was slight, too, and yielded little pleasure beyond a budding promise.

James's hand slid from Jian's cheek to the juncture of his neck and his eyes rose back to Jian's face. "What do you want?" He asked, devastatingly gentle.

Jian's blood began to pound in his ears. "Fuck me."

James's hand tightened, then eased.

 

He let Jian go and instead moved to undo his belt. Jian's blood got louder. A bead of pre built at his slit as he watched James's belt fall open and his fingers find his fly.

"Finger yourself." James said, button unpopping.

Jian's heart tripped. He was still.

James undid his zipper, eyes flicking up. "Jian."

Jian's cock twitched. He... "I don't-- just with spit?"

James smoothed a hand up and down Jian's side. "If you don't like it, we'll grab lube."

Jian's sights fell to James's crotch. His cock was hard in his boxers, the outline thick against thin fabric. Using spit with his fingers, he knew, he could handle. Using spit for... fuck, the fire in his gut twisted up his throat. Jian nodded.

James squeezed his waist before his hand came off with a murmured, "Good boy."

 

Face prickling viscerally, Jian lifted two fingers and took them into his mouth. He fixed his eyes on the sofa-back behind James. James said nothing; did nothing; just watched. Jian ran his tongue over the fingers. Pulling them out, a tiny amount of spit caught on his lower lip. He swallowed and adjusted himself, rising on his knees and reaching back. His right hand found James's shoulder with an absolute absence of confidence. Wet fingers rubbed over his hole. Jian dug his teeth into the inside of his lip and pressed in.

 

Now Jian knew, and was almost used to, what lube felt like, he could recognise keenly the way saliva felt drier and rougher. Lube was indulgent; made him slip under the surface. Spit was hot; made sensitivity itch. Jian sheathed the fingers as deep as he could get, then paused. He twisted them. His throat bobbed. James took out his cock.

 

It was a lazy motion. James's eyes didn't depart from Jian's body. He just pushed his boxers down, tugged himself out and wrapped a hand around the base. Jian?

 

Jian's cock twitched and his hole clenched. His hand tightened on James's shoulder. His cheeks blazed. He pulled his fingers out and thrust them back in, gaze falling to James's hard cock. He watched James squeeze his base then begin idly to work his shaft. Jian's mouth watered, very faintly, as he looked at the head. Thick. His own cock was getting wetter. Tight jolts of arousal fizzed under Jian's skin. He scissored his fingers, whimpered ever so quietly, and started to fuck himself harder and faster. A hot need ate within the base of his gut. He wanted James inside him so bad.

"Nn." Jian let his eyes flutter shut, forcing a third – dry – finger inside. "Uhn."

James slipped his left hand to hold Jian's right thigh: gentle and warm; thumb grazing skin.

Jian's breath hitched. He blinked his eyes open, allowed himself to make fleeting eye contact with James, before dropping his sights back to his cock. He still pumped his shaft without any real feeling; it was as if he was mainly just-- enjoying the show. Jian's gut tightened and his cock leaked more pre. His breathing was shallow and fast. He stared at James's dick; at the girth, at the length. His hole clenched on his fingers. Fuck, Jian wanted.

 

He pulled his fingers out, cheeks tingling with heat. James's fist slipped to the base of his shaft and stilled. His eyebrows rose softly.

"You sure?" he asked, evidently more than able to discern Jian's want without him voicing it.

Jian's blood was charged. He nodded.

James watched him quietly.

Jian bit his lip, then: "Please."

James leant up to kiss him. "You're so perfect." He murmured, moving back. He spat twice on his cock and slicked himself up.

Jian's gut coiled around itself; he knew the wetness wouldn't last and the idea was making his cock throb.

"Hop off." James said. "Get on all fours."

Jian slipped clumsily from James's lap and got on his elbows and knees on the sofa beside him.

James settled behind him and rocked his hips a few times. His cock slid between Jian's thighs and rubbed against his own leaking member. Big hands groped Jian's ass before James finally lined up. Anticipation snaked red-hot up Jian's spine. James pushed forward.

 

It stung. Fuck, it stung. Jian's breath hitched and his teeth sank into his lower lip. A throaty moan came weakly from him. James's head slipped inside with a tight popping sensation and a heavy breath.

"You need to relax, baby." James muttered. "So tight I can barely move."

Jian's fingers fisted in the couch cushion. He didn't know how to relax when everything felt so big. All he could think to do, was try to rock himself back.

James's hands tightened on his hips. "Fuck." He stilled. Jian stilled. A moment came. A moment ended.

 

The first thing to happen next was for James to adjust himself; his right hand came off Jian's hip, traced the line of his spine, then slipped round to hold the base of his throat. Not tight. Just present.

 

The next thing swallowed the first whole, the same way fire engulfs a house. James snapped his hips.

 

His cock – only just past Jian's rim – was forced all the way inside Jian.

 

The universe shattered. Literally fell apart into so many pieces, it would never, ever, come back together.

 

Pain twisted in pleasure twisted in pain back into pleasure. It ripped through Jian. So much, too much, and somehow just enough.

 

His mouth fell open and a loud, dirty keen was fucked roughly from him. His body jerked. His mind reeled. James's hand tightened on his throat.

"Goddamn, baby boy."

Jian panted, his body dislocated from anything and simply hanging in space.

James pulled out.

Jian's toes curled in his socks.

James rocked back in, impossibly gentle against the backdrop of his previous motion, but nonetheless causing molten sparks to gnaw in Jian's body.

"Nnnngh."

James released a harsh breath, hips starting to find a rhythm.

Jian couldn't breathe. Nothing to do with the hand on his neck. Everything to do with the fizzing ache that met every movement of James's cock inside him. The world was swimming. Jian's cock was so hard it hurt. Pre was dripping from his tip, onto the sofa. He couldn't keep up.

 

Muted slaps and heavy breaths accompanied the firm snaps of James's hips. High, raw moans fell like rain from Jian's lips. He didn't notice when cum started to ooze from his tip. He could feel his shaft pulsing and the muscles at the head of his cock contracting; but he couldn't separate them from the feelings that had come before and would come after. His orgasm filled his entire body; the tips of his toes to the tips of his ears. Hot, pounding pleasure twisting in hot, pounding pain. And it just went on. There was no beginning nor end. James continued to drive in with full, steady thrusts. His hand steadily tightened its grip on Jian's throat; never enough to cause alarm, never enough to inhibit Jian's breathing meaningfully, just enough that it began to play with the other feelings continuously washing over him. Jian couldn't think. There was literally nothing in his head. It was just this.

 

An hour could have passed before James's hips stuttered, his hand flexed and he cussed. He pulled out, nearly all the way, and slammed back in. Jian's body was jolted forward and, through a scrambled head, he registered the needy noise it pushed out of him. James's cock throbbed and a long, long exhale left him as he began to unload inside.

 

Jian's body was floating. It hurt, it stung, but god if it didn't make him see stars.

 

James's hand loosened around Jian's throat, then came off. It ran gently down his side: featherlight and almost ticklish. Reaching Jian's hip, it squeezed.

"You okay?"

Jian rested his forehead on sofa cushions and breathed. It seemed a very long time between question and answer. "Mm."

James thumbed his ass. "You came twice."

Jian's gut rolled in something caught between embarrassment and arousal.

James continued thumbing sensitive skin. "Bet you could keep going." He said and it was in a lower, softer tone; almost as if it were a private thought, something James was saying to himself. His thumbs stopped and he rubbed Jian's ass cheeks. "I'm gonna pull out, baby." He said, tone as it had been before his last statement. "It might sting."

The base of Jian's gut responded to that with a sleepy twist. He made a small noise to show he understood.

James moved.

 

It did sting. Jian's breath caught and he had to bite down on his own hand with a soft moan. James was hot and slick as he pulled free. Jian felt his hole clench around him, almost as if trying to keep him inside. James thumbed his hole gently once out. Jian eased his teeth off his hand. He could feel cum dribbling weakly from him. James's thumb swiped through the wetness. Then his hand came away and he leant to drop a kiss to Jian's shoulder.

"You did so good." he said. "So, so good."

Jian gave another small noise. He felt wrung out.

James kissed him again. "D'you want a bath?"

Yeah. That sounded nice. "Mm."

"Alright. I'll carry you." James said, moving back. Gentle hands manoeuvred Jian around, then slipped to pick him up. Jian's head found James's shoulder and his thighs came either side of his hips. He clenched weakly to avoid leaking cum. James hiked him up. "Comfy?"

Jian's eyes slipped shut. "Mm." The base of his spine twinged. Jian would regret this tomorrow; tonight, though, he would simply enjoy the drowsy satisfaction that curled endlessly through him. "C'I stay? The night." The question slipped from him before his mind had the chance to vet it.

James kissed his crown. "You know you can." He said. "Always."

Jian turned his head and this time he did have the courage – fucked-out, hazy courage, but courage nonetheless – to press a tiny kiss to James's neck.

Chapter 19

Summary:

"Maybe I'll come by on my lunch break." He said, pulling back and standing up.

No sound passed between them in the bath, save Jian's slight noises as James fingered cum from his hole. James now sat behind him; Jian leant against him. James's hands held Jian's hips. Jian's knees peeked from warm water. His eyes were closed, head rested on James's chest. His body, now distanced from hot pleasure, hurt. He felt raw and stinging; felt used. That last bit drifted through his head with the meekest twinge of arousal; so meek, he didn't register more than a fleeting tightening of the gut.

 

When they got out, Jian allowed himself to slump against James as the latter dried his body with gentle movements. His head was quiet and drowsy. His legs felt weak. He noticed a red toothbrush in the cup alongside James's blue one. His red toothbrush. It made his entire body flush. He made no comment as he reached to pick it up; James watched, but made no comment either.

 

Settling into James's plush bed felt close to heavenly. Heavy warmth enveloped his tired body and all he wanted to do was drift away. James slipped in beside him and rubbed his waist. Jian tucked himself in close. His voice was slightly roughened:

"'F I don't go t' school t'morrow," his lips grazed featherlight over James's bare chest. "can I stay-- here?"

James thumbed skin. "Course. Why d'you think you won't go?"

Jian felt his cheeks colour. "Won't be able t' fuckin' sit down." He muttered.

A soft breath of amusement left James and he nosed at Jian's hair. "Sorry."

Jian's throat clicked. "Liked it."

James nosed his hair again, but gave no answer.

 

He slipped into sleep without noticing more than the warm weight pressing around him. Two things visited his dreams, of which only hazy and fast-fading remembrances graced him once awake. First was a loose tooth. Jian kept tonguing at it, wiggling it in his gum. It was an adult tooth, so it scared him. Yet, he couldn't stop nudging it. It would rock and threaten to come free with a weak, intangible flare of pain; Jian would panic and press his tongue down over top, trying to push its roots back deep. The tooth came out in the end. With a wet crunch and Jian's plummeting gut.

 

The second thing was that his body was hollow; that he was no more than a paper husk; that faceless people could rip him up and rearrange; could fill his insides with whatever they wanted. He didn't mind. He liked it, sometimes. He had nothing to do, but be moulded. It felt like a relief.

 

He woke to an empty bed, but with noise close-by. Strange feelings were left in his gut as his dreams departed; uneasy in a serene kind of way. Jian rolled over and rubbed his eyes. The noise he could hear made itself known to him: a shower. Jian rubbed his eyes more. The room was dim; he groped for his phone and discovered time was only just brushing 5am. Propping himself up onto his elbows, a soft noise pushed itself unbidden from his lips. A sharp pain twisted up his spine and a dull pain throbbed beneath. His limbs felt spent. Jian looked at the duvet covering him, then flopped back down. He didn't want to go to school.

 

James wasn't much longer in the shower. Jian heard the spray shut off and rolled back onto his front. Muted noises came from the ensuite as James assumedly dried himself and went through whatever routine he may have. The door then opened and closed softly. Jian peeked out from his pillow. Immaculate hair. Pristine suit. Perfection, in the fullest sense of the word.

 

James's eyes landed on him and he seemed less than a touch surprised to discover Jian conscious. "Hey."

Jian let his eyes close; the base of his gut had started languidly to warm, looking at James. "'Lo."

The bed dipped as James sat and a big hand slipped into Jian's hair. "How are you feeling?"

Right now? Nothing but settled; nothing but content and safe. Jian knew, however, what James was really asking; "Sore." he mumbled.

James's thumb brushed his ear. "You gonna go to school?"

Jian shook his head.

James hummed in gentle acknowledgement. A soft moment transpired before he spoke again: "Liam and I will be gone by seven-thirty." he said. "Wanna doze here 'til then?"

Jian opened his eyes anew in order to run them over James's features. His gut warmed some more. He nodded.

James gave him a smile, then dipped down to kiss him. "Maybe I'll come by on my lunch break." He said, pulling back and standing up.

Jian liked that idea very much. "Do what y'want."

James released a breath of laughter. Over the covers, he gave Jian's ass a pat and Jian bit his tongue at the faint sensations evoked. "I'll see you later."

Jian swallowed and tucked his face into the pillow beneath him. "Mn."

 

A second or two later, the bedroom door sounded and a novel quietness settled. Jian stretched out his legs – a twinge met the action – and shuffled over to James's side. He could smell shampoo, cologne and sweat. He buried his face in James's pillow and let the scents wash sleepily over him. It was less than 15 minutes before he slipped off.

 

When he woke again, the room was much lighter, despite the drawn blinds. Jian's phone told him it was 10:28am. He let that settle in his mind for a while, then pushed himself up. More flashes of dull pain shot through him. Jian took himself to the ensuite.

 

He looked at his toothbrush beside James's, weak butterflies flapping within him. He pissed, brushed his teeth and slipped into the shower. He didn't take long to wash his hair and body, though still longer than he did at home. Coming out of the ensuite, dry and sweet-smelling, he paused. His clothes had been left downstairs last night; James had no doubt put them in the laundry or otherwise out of Liam's way by now. Jian chewed the inside of his lip and reached for his phone.

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午10:43

can i borrow some clothes pls

?

 

James took only a moment to start typing a response.

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午10:43

Of course x

Help yourself to anything in the house

 

Jian could feel his cheeks tingle.

 

iMessage 信息

今天 上午10:43

thank u

 

He dropped his phone to the bed and padded over to James's wardrobe. It was big and spacious. Everything was folded or hung with absolute precision. Jian felt himself continue to blush as he reached to pull open a drawer. Socks. After a moment of cautious investigation, Jian collected a plain navy shirt, a warm jumper and some pyjama pants for himself. He took some socks from the first drawer in order to tuck the hems of the pyjamas into; save them dragging. The drawstring was pulled tight and the tops hung very big on him, but were so soft and smelt so nice.

 

He stood for a long while before the full-length mirror on the interior of one of the doors. He looked like someone had been playing around on one of those dress-up games and this was the result. Looked small. Jian dropped his eyes, throat bobbing.

 

He opened the blinds and remade the bed, trying his best to leave the bedroom exactly as he'd found it. Once happy, he took himself downstairs and flicked the kettle on. It was exceedingly odd to be in this house without Liam. Not a bad odd. Just odd. Jian looked at his socked feet as he listened to the kettle start to fizz and thought he might like it. He wondered if James really would pop back on his lunch and his stomach tightened feebly.

 

He had a year and a half left of school. Jian took his lower lip into his mouth. If James still wanted him by then – and the back of Jian's mind told him he wouldn't – he tried to figure out if this might... be an option. If James wouldn't mind him being here. He didn't want to want it. It felt wrong and misplaced but Jian--

 

-his throat clicked. He closed his eyes and tried to reset. No good would come of thinking. He was here now. That's what existed.

Chapter 20

Summary:

He didn't need Jian to be a good kisser, just needed him to be good.

James tapped his pen on sleek wood and stared at his computer. There was text on the screen. He was not reading it. His mind was caught between broken flesh – wet gargles and dying eyes – and Jian. Two breeds of gratification, as alike as they were distinct. One bone-deep; the other incandescent. The first was an urge that had been sheathed and dormant in recent weeks. The second was an urge that had grown all-consuming.

 

James's eyes dipped to the time at the bottom-right of his screen. 12:02pm. He didn't usually take lunch before one. A slow breath left his nose. He stood.

 

Stacy asked if everything was okay when he told her to clear his calendar for the day; that he was leaving and wouldn't be back. James gave her half a smile and said Liam was apparently sick and needed picking up. Under the carpark's heavy concrete, there was little light. James hadn't turned the electrics on. He just sat. There was something in his gut. It was hot and heavy and hungry. It was the thought of Jian, waiting for him, only for him; thinking of nothing else. It was his rough moans, snagged on pain, melted with pleasure. It was the way he nestled against James's body. Entirely innocent. James started the engine.

 

He drove to a sushi place, first. He smiled with ease and grace as he bought himself a pack of salmon rolls and Jian a pack of avocado. He watched the worker's hands as she tapped his total into the till. She was young; 20 or there about. James thanked her, eyes dipping to her throat for a fraction of a second. He imagined slashing it.

 

It wasn't typically something he did. He dropped the two boxes on the passenger's seat and clipped his seatbelt. He preferred to press a blade in all the way; to feel the resistance, the pressure, the crunch. To pull it out and watch blood burst free. To repeat the action. He didn't care for the pain he caused, but nor did it drive him. He knew some got off on it; took it slow; made a mess. James simply liked the feeling of a body failing; of watching it fail; of being the reason. Electric satisfaction would buzz in his throat. Lips would open and close; blood would gush; eyes would water, terror and pain twisted in an unnamable expression. That didn't mean he didn't daydream, sometimes, of doing it differently. These were light, idle thoughts. Fingers cut off. A blade dragged over skin, a red envelope unfolding. Pressed, not through the torso, but the neck. Windpipe split open. He wondered what noise it would make.

 

Last night, he had thought for the first time of Jian's body in that way. As he held his throat, he imagined thick blood coating his fingers. It made him climax, searing hot. He'd not so far decided what to do with the feeling. Jian's skin would not break under his hand. James didn't want that. He wanted Jian to stay where he was, as he was. Devoted. A dog, looking only for praise.

 

He didn't want a scared dog. Jian suited insecurity; nervousness; awe. He suited sadness. He suited uncertain hostility. And, yes, he suited fear. But not looking at James; not sourced from him. James's fingers slipped down the wheel. If he was to know, he was to be drip-fed. If; James held no intention in his current line of thought. He breaked smoothly for a red light and leant his head back. His eyes flicked to his left-hand wing mirror. He'd expected to have grown bored of Jian by now. These feelings were new to him.

 

Stepping into the house, he found it – at first glance – empty. The kitchen was tidy and seemingly untouched; the living room void of the body he wanted to see. Dissatisfaction might have dipped toward irritation, were it not for James catching sight of Jian's schoolbag, leant against the side of the sofa and thankfully missed by his son's sleepy gaze this morning.

 

James slipped the sushi on the side. There was a bowl on the drying rack; an addition to what James had done earlier after Liam's breakfast. He shrugged off his blazer and moved toward the stairs.

 

He expected to find Jian napping. He was looking forward to the sight; to the way it might settle in his chest. The expectation and anticipation evaporated as James reached the top of the stairs and his eyes landed on his open bedroom door at the end of the hall. He could not see Jian. He could hear him. Moaning.

 

Lazy blood flow became a hot torrent.

 

James drew closer and, reaching the doorway, leant on the frame. Jian had drawn the blinds; the room was softened, but not darkened. He lay on the bed. His cock was full, flushed and leaking: untouched, at least currently. Pre had dribbled onto his navel, smeared in a weak, glistening puddle. He wore one of James's shirts, but nothing else. The shirt hem was at present in his mouth. His head was turned to the side – away from James – and his jaw was set as he bit down on James's clothing. Eyes closed. Knees bent. Thighs spread.

 

He had two fingers inside himself. They were wet, but James didn't think it was with lube. His gut burnt. Sore Jian had told him this morning; skipped school for the fact. Now here he was, cock drooling as he fucked himself on spit-slick fingers.

 

"Hey."

Jian tensed and his fingers stilled. His eyes – glazed, pupils dilated, fucked-out and fucking gorgeous – found James and James watched anxiety twist through them. His fingers came out, his thighs closed and, as he pushed himself upright, he tugged James's shirt down to cover himself. His throat bobbed, his eyes dropped, his cheeks glowed. "I-- didn't..."

James pushed off the doorframe, dropped his blazer on the foot of the bed as he crossed to it and slipped his fingers under Jian's chin.

 

The kiss was tongue and teeth. Jian fell behind as soon as it began; James didn't mind. He didn't need Jian to be a good kisser, just needed him to be good. A small moan crept from Jian's throat as James bit his bottom lip. The kiss broke.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off." James told him, nosing at his ear and listening to the way it made his breath hitch.

Jian didn't answer.

James slipped his hand in between his legs and teased his wet cock. He licked a strip up Jian's neck. "Knew you were waiting for me," He said. "but didn't think it'd get you so worked up."

Jian took his lower lip into his mouth with a faint noise; one caught between arousal and embarrassment.

James rubbed his thumb over the underside of Jian's tip, where the head met the shaft.

"Nng." Jian's hips bucked. His skin felt hot.

James let go and slipped his hand lower, two fingers rubbing over his hole; dry. "You couldn't find the lube?" He asked, just to be certain.

Jian breathing was quick and shallow. "It-- feels-- good without."

James hummed, nipping his earlobe. "You sure?" He murmured, starting to apply pressure with his fingers.

Jian's head tipped back, his hips bucked again and his thighs widened. "Mmm."

James swallowed a cuss. He forced his fingers in.

 

Jian keened, eyes screwing shut and forehead dropping to rest against James's chest. His hole clenched around James. Tight and hot. James crooked the fingers up, pressing dead-on Jian's prostate.

"Nngfuck." Jian whined, the noise raw and slutty.

James exhaled through his nose. He pulled the fingers out and moved back. His own cock was straining in his pants. "Shirt off." He said, hands falling to his belt.

Jian's lower lip was red and puffy. He seemed to take a second to comprehend what James had said, then obliged, stripping James's shirt off and throwing it to the floor.

James's belt fell open.

 

His mind was racing, thought chasing thought; stretching Jian's throat, binding his hands, making him cry, making him bleed. His gaze travelled Jian's naked body. His nipples were hard. His dick was leaking. James tugged his belt free. Jian's eyes caught on it. His cock twitched visibly; a bead of pre built at the slit. James's own cock throbbed.

 

He sat on the bed with his feet on the floor. His belt, he set aside. "Over my lap, baby."

Jian toyed with his lower lip.

James watched him. Waited. Spoke: "Now, Jian."

Jian snapped out of it. His throat clicked and he moved. With that awkward touch he never seemed able to shake, he settled over James's lap, elbows resting on the duvet cover beyond James. His ass was directly before James, wet cock pressing into the inside of his right thigh. He wiggled, very slightly, then stilled.

James smoothed his left hand over pristine skin. "Good boy."

Jian's lip went back into his mouth.

James grabbed a handful of his ass.

Jian's breath hitched.

James let go. "Fuck, you've got a perfect body." He said, retrieving his belt.

Jian dropped his head to the duvet, chest rising and falling with fast breaths.

James looped his belt once, then teased it over the skin of Jian's thighs, just under his ass cheeks.

Jian rocked his hips. It was the most fractional of motions. It made James's gut grow teeth.

 

He let the belt slip off and traced Jian's stuttered breathing. His free hand wrapped around Jian's nape to hold him still. And then he brought the belt down.

 

It landed against Jian's ass with a smart clap. James could feel the way his cock pressed against Jian's torso. Jian's body jerked and a weak noise was muffled against bed covers. James let the belt slide off. A red mark had already flourished. He brought the belt down again, in the exact same place. Jian's body jerked again and a far fuller noise came from him: thick and throaty. James didn't register that his hand tightened on Jian's nape, he simply hit him again. And it was as the black leather of his belt landed harsh on Jian's ass for the third time that he felt wetness on the inside of his thigh.

 

He let the belt go and manhandled Jian so he sat upright, thighs coming uncertainly either side of James's hips. His eyes were wet. There was cum on his abdomen, cock and thighs. James looked at it. Three hits.

"You dirty slut." he said, almost without meaning to.

Jian made a noise, tinged with disquiet.

James flicked his gaze up to Jian's face: pink cheeks, tear-clumped lashes. Pretty. So impossibly pretty. James lifted a hand to thumb the space beneath his eye. "I like it, baby." He said, gentle. "This is what I want."

Jian swallowed hard, making eye contact with James for less than a split-second.

James dragged his thumb over damp skin. "Daddy's little whore."

Jian's teeth dug into his lip.

James watched red skin turn white. "My good boy."

Jian rocked his hips; slight and instinctual.

James's blood was boiling. "You okay?"

Jian nodded with a soft noise. His teeth eased off. His eyes flicked up. His voice was breathless. "Yeah."

James's hand slipped from his cheek to the juncture of his neck and squeezed. "Yeah?"

Jian nodded again, more certain. "Mm."

James hummed.

 

He thought about making Jian bend back over, hitting him until he came again. He thought about using his belt to fasten his hands behind his back, making it arch prettily as he fucked him dry. He thought about last night.

 

Jian's eyes followed the movement as James reached for his belt once more. Slowly, so it was obvious what he was doing, James lifted the sleek leather to Jian's neck. Jian made no complaint, simply bit his lip again. James gave him a smile, wrapping the belt around his throat. Jian's cock was still half-hard. James threaded the strip through the buckle. Jian's neck was obviously too slim to make any of the belt holes useful; it didn't matter; it helped. James watched the buckle settle snug against Jian's windpipe, then slid the belt so the excess was at his nape. He tugged, gently, and watched the belt tighten. It looked good; pressed lightly into skin. The base of James's gut simmered.

"Feel okay?" he checked, releasing the belt and rubbing his hands down Jian's sides.

Jian nodded.

James gave him a squeeze. "On all fours."

Jian took a minute, then moved.

 

The marks on his ass had grown to a deeper red. One – the last James had acted against him – that sat just below the others had even begun to reveal the faint promise of a bruise. James settled behind Jian and, as he smoothed comforting hands up and down his sides again, ground his clothed cock over his ass. Jian made a soft noise. James undid his fly button, then fly and pulled his cock free. He spat on his shaft and slicked himself. He spat on Jian's hole and rubbed his member through it. Jian twisted delicate fingers in the sheets beneath him. James settled one hand at the base of his cock and, with the other, took up the belt's tail. He tugged, ever so softly, and watched the way the belt's buckle dug lightly into Jian's neck. He began to press his hips forward.

 

It was hard. Jian was tight and there was nothing real to aid the stretch. James set his jaw, hand tightening on the belt as he tried to push his head past Jian's rim. He let his cock go in order to grip Jian's right ass cheek and spread it. His head sank in. Jian's thighs were shaking. James let his ass go and held his hip. Jian's breathing was unsteady. James's cock slid in easier, now the thickest point was buried. Jian twitched around him. James couldn't believe how it looked.

 

He paused, halfway in. Jian's cock was full again, dripping pre at irregular intervals. His fists were white in the duvet. James imagined it stung like hell. He snapped his hips.

 

Jian's body rocked forward with the motion and the belt tightened on his throat. He whined loudly. James let out a harsh breath, eyes on where his cock was sheathed to the hilt. Jian whined again and rocked his hips, though James couldn't be sure it wasn't just a remnant shudder from his previous motion. He trailed his free hand down the line of Jian's spine, unmoving inside him. He used two fingertips and imagined they might slice flesh as they glided over it: nothing. The idea made no impact on James nor his cock. He looked to the red marks on Jian's ass, then to his bound neck. His cock pulsed.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, sights caught on where the belt buckle pressed into flesh.

Jian nodded weakly; James was about to ask him to use words when he rocked his hips – now a definitively deliberate action – and said, "Daddy."

James's brain stopped. Went dead silent. The next thing he heard, in fact, was the rough sound fucked out of Jian as he slammed back in after pulling out. The bedroom melted away; the world melted away. All James could comprehend was the tight – fuck, it was tight – grip on his cock and the way Jian moaned.

 

He drove in with harsh thrusts, forcing himself deep. Jian started crying. James didn't want to – almost didn't at all – but he did; as Jian's body started to tremble and his breathing got tangled, James released his grip on the belt, then, slowing his thrusts, leant to tug it free. It slipped from Jian's throat and James released the softest groan as he saw the mark it had left. He dipped to lick over it, hips speeding up again. Jian keened, body jolting under him. James caught the faint sound of wetness hitting fabric; Jian had just cum again. James's left hand held his hips up as his right rested on the bed beside Jian's shoulder. His teeth grazed the juncture of his neck and dull slaps rang out every time he drove in. Jian's moans were growing raw. James's breaths came out heavy and damp.

"Feel so fucking good, baby." his lips found Jian's ear. "Tightest fucking ass. So desperate to take daddy's cock."

Jian whined, high and unsteady.

James panted. "God, you sound so dirty."

Jian's body trembled.

James grunted, hips stuttering. He bit down on the skin beneath his mouth and forced himself deep, cock throbbing as his climax burst hotly in his gut. Molten relief washed over him. Jian's hole twitched, pushing pleasure that little bit higher and making James's blood fizz.

 

He eased his teeth off and kissed Jian gently.

Jian's cheeks were wet.

James nosed him. "Okay?"

Jian's breathing sounded as if he might cry again. A very quiet, "Fuck." left him.

James's lips brushed the shell of Jian's ear. "Tell me when to pull out."

Jian swallowed.

James gave him another kiss.

"You-- can..."

James hummed. He straightened up and held Jian's hips gently with both hands. The marks on his ass – all three – were now dipping determinedly toward bruising. Slowly, James began to pull out.

Jian whined, hole clenching.

James thumbed his hips and kept his movements steady. A small amount of cum followed his cock as it slipped free. James would have fucked it back in, normally, but not today. He let Jian's hips go and Jian's body wobbled slightly. James lay beside him and tugged him in for a cuddle. "Tell me you're okay."

Jian nestled closer, tucking his head under James's chin. He was quiet.

James trailed his hand down Jian's back. "Sweetheart?"

Jian shifted his head. Another moment of quiet, followed by a voice that screamed of the way he'd been moaning: "Just--" he started, then stopped. Tried again: "-'m okay. Just-- that-- was a lot."

James began to trace circles into his waist. "Good a lot or bad?"

"Good." Jian mumbled. His eyelashes brushed James's shirt as he closed his eyes. "Hurts, but I-- just. It- feels nice."

James looked at the ceiling of his bedroom, hand slipping back up Jian's body to stroke his shoulder. The heat of their bodies bled together, dulled by his clothes. "Okay." James moved his thumb over smooth skin. He closed his eyes. "Would you tell me if I did something you didn't like?"

Jian used no words, just made a noise of drowsy affirmation.

James focused on the lazy satiation that had unfurled through his limbs.

Jian's lashes brushed James's shirt again as they fluttered. "Don't think there's 'nythin' you could do that I wouldn't like."

James opened his eyes again; it made the images of broken bodies harder to see, but did not stop them passing through his mind. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Jian's crown.

 

An urge sheathed and dormant – a fact he knew to belong to Jian – but an urge he could recognise as starting to wake. He slid his hand into Jian's hair.

Chapter 21

Summary:

Jian's gut tightened by the faintest degree. He was, however, for once able to overlook it.

Jian adjusted his leg and had to bite the inside of his lip at the twinge evoked; dull pain rolled from the base of his spine, his ass and his hips. He didn't mind. Around his neck, he could feel the phantom of James's belt. He didn't mind that, either; liked it, in fact. James's hand routinely traced absent patterns against Jian's skin: light and ticklish; firm and grounding. Jian couldn't keep his eyes open.

 

James was first to speak, however much later: "I got you some sushi."

Jian's chest softened helplessly. "Thanks."

James hummed and nosed at the crown of Jian's head. "D'you want a bath?"

Jian forced himself to open his eyes. He nodded.

"Okay." James kissed him and, gently, untangled their bodies. "I'll run it. You can stay here." He said, getting up from the bed.

Jian didn't argue, simply snuggled into the warm space left by James.

 

Seconds lost form; became minutes, or even hours, as Jian's body melted into the softness of James's bed. The parts of his ass where James had hit throbbed quietly, every now and again. He put it silently into a box he'd decided to label comforting.

 

He only half-heard James returning; it was a soft squeeze to his waist that cemented the fact in reality.

"Want me to carry you?"

Jian made a small noise and blinked his eyes open.

James gave him a smile.

Jian let his eyes fall back shut with a tiny nod.

James released a fond exhale and, not a moment later, leant to gently lift Jian up.

 

Jian's thighs came either side of James's waist and his arms wound bonelessly around James's neck. Big hands settled under Jian's ass and a kiss was pressed to his temple. He carried Jian wordlessly to the bathroom down the hall. Then, still wordless, implied he was about to lower Jian to solid ground; Jian obediently shifted his legs and lessened his grip. He met the floor with a faint wobble and felt his ears prickle.

James rubbed a hand up and down his waist before stepping back. "Take your time." He said.

Jian flicked his eyes upward. "You're not-- joinin'?"

James lifted a hand to stroke Jian's hair. "I think it's best I don't." He said, hand slipping out and eyes catching Jian's. "Things might escalate; I don't think you're up for that."

Jian's gut tightened by the faintest degree. He was, however, for once able to overlook it. He nodded and rested his gaze on the water, gently steaming. "We can just-- it doesn't have t'- escalate."

James ran his eyes over Jian's body. "It doesn't have to, but I think it would." His eyes came back to Jian's face. "You affect me, Jian."

Jian felt his cheeks catch fire. He didn't know how to respond.

James smiled again and dipped to kiss his forehead. "I'll be downstairs."

 

Jian stood still for a moment after the door closed behind James. He swallowed and rubbed his nose before stepping into the tub. The water was hot. It was like weight pushing down on his body as he sank into it. Jian closed his eyes and stretched his legs out in front of himself. His mind hushed and all he chose to comprehend was the gentle heat lapping delicately over tired skin. He could hear wind drifting over leafy trees outside; muted birdsong; dull implications of a motor or two on the road. It was hard to track how many minutes went by before he decided to do more than soak; namely, to clean cum from his ass.

 

He bent his knees and spread his thighs, two fingers slipping down. Jian bit the inside of his cheek and pushed them in. A harsh sting burst from the contact. Jian couldn't help a tiny grunt. There was, in this moment, nothing arousing about the pain; it was no more than cutting discomfort, tinged ever so faintly in regret. Jian sheathed his fingers as deep as he could and scissored them gently. His throat clicked. He gingerly withdrew the fingers, bringing a small amount of cum with him, before repeating the action.

 

Against all odds, his cock began to fill. Jian ignored it. He simply focused on clearing as much of James's load as he could.

 

He settled his legs back in front of himself once done and neglected his semi. His eyes returned shut and he sank deeper into water. The sting downstairs was calmed by the heat, but it did not dissipate.

 

His legs were only a little unsteady as he stepped out of the tub, almost a full 20 minutes later. He dried himself sluggishly, regular little twinges rolling out as he went about it. It was only when he got to his hair that his eyes landed on the mirror and registered what looked back.

 

A faint red mark bound his neck. It was uneven in its depth; a darker red on the right side and over his windpipe. Jian's heart skipped a few beats and his semi considered growing. His throat bobbed and Jian turned so his back faced the mirror. Glancing over his shoulder, Jian's gaze landed on his ass. His heart skipped several beats and his cock twitched. Three distinct marks. Two overlapping. Deep red. Pale purple.

 

Arousal – an arousal he didn't understand and certainly didn't want – crept into the base of his gut and simmered. Jian lowered his gaze. His cock had come to full hardness. Jian's cheeks prickled. He didn't know how to navigate this moment.

 

He wanted James. He wanted James to smile – amused and fond – and kiss his lips, ears, cheeks. He wanted James's big hand around his shaft, moving slow and tight. He wanted to feel that heat build, build, build and then burst. James – surely – would be hard himself, at this point, and Jian wanted to drop to his knees and use his mouth until he was swallowing thick, hot cum.

 

But James didn't want an escalation. Jian wasn't up to it.

 

Jian chewed his lip, face continuing to burn and a strange form of guilt starting to underpin his arousal. His cock had begun to glisten at the tip.

 

In the end, Jian decided it was best to do nothing. He wrapped his towel around himself and moved to drain the bath. His clothes – or James's – were in the bedroom, so Jian silently let himself out of the bathroom and padded back down the hall.

 

The shirt he'd been wearing for most of the day had a damp patch from where Jian had earlier been biting it. He slipped the pyjama pants and socks back on and bit his tongue against the way soft fabric grazed his cock. Jian picked James's shirt from the floor and dropped it on the bed; he'd take it to the laundry on his way down. Shirtless, and a touch cold, Jian opened the wardrobe. He looked, first, at his reflection; specifically, the tent at his crotch. It wasn't glaringly obvious. But it was noticeable and, knowing James, would be spotted straight away. Jian's gut twisted with that strange guilty arousal.

 

He didn't want James to think he was needy or lacking in self-control; he didn't think it painted a flattering picture. He didn't, up until now, even think it was true. He wasn't sure how to fix it.

 

Jian reached to pull open a drawer housing shirts that were folded to perfection. A plain white design was on top of the lefthand pile; Jian took it. The fabric was clean and soft. He slipped it on. It smelt like James; unhelpful. Looking back at the mirror, the shirt hem finished mid-thigh. It covered his erection and dignity was – almost – restored. Jian's gaze flicked upwards. The redness around his neck had not faded. He reached for a woollen turtleneck.

 

It was thick and cosy; heavy once resting on Jian's shoulders. It too covered his erection but, most importantly, hid his neck. Jian looked small and bundled up. He expected Liam might make some comment and supposed he ought to prepare an explanation. As Jian closed the wardrobe, his eyes caught for the first time on a small cardboard box on the very top shelf. It was flanked by shoeboxes, but was not one itself. The sight felt familiar to him and he absently assumed it housed sentimental objects, clicking the doors shut.

 

A kindred box sat in Jian's closet. It hadn't been touched for years. The last time Jian had opened it, all it took was one glimpse at his father's handwriting and he was bawling. Jian wondered how often James indulged in remembrance.

 

He took up the shirt he'd left on James's bed, along with his towel, and headed downstairs. Both items were deposited in the laundry room. Jian eyed the clothes waiting for a wash, his own among them. He put them in the machine – James, of course, had one that washed and dried all in one – and started a cycle.

 

James was in the kitchen, leant against the workbench. A mug sat to his right, coffee-scented and steaming softly. His focus was on his phone. Jian glanced at the kitchen island and spotted two boxes of sushi. The heat in his gut was, thank fuck, starting to wane.

 

James looked up, smiled and tucked his phone away. "Cute."

Jian's throat clicked. He moved to put more water in the kettle. "I dunno 'f I can go t' school t'morrow either now."

James laughed gently. "Mm." He crossed to their sushi and slid one of the boxes – avocado – toward Jian. "I'd apologise." He retrieved his mug and took a seat at the kitchen island. "But I wouldn't mean it."

Jian moved himself and his sushi to take the space on James's right; sitting down hurt made him flinch, ever so slightly. He opened the box and listened to the way it crinkled. "You don't think 'm-- too...?" He didn't finish and hoped he wouldn't have to.

James ran his eyes over the side of Jian's face. "Too what?"

Jian felt his cheeks itch, staring at his lunch. Needy was one word that presented itself to him; slutty was another. Both were too intimidating to voice. "Just-- we fucked last night 'n' then you come home t' find me..." The sentence was stilted and muttered.

A soft breath left James. He picked up his take-out chopsticks and snapped them in half. "Baby, I told you: I like it." He said. "It suits me."

Jian's throat clicked and he glanced over.

James picked up a piece of his sushi; it was salmon. "I have a high sex drive." He said. "I want something that can match that."

Something. Something like... a relationship? Jian looked back at his sushi; the heat in his gut had scuttled with silent feet to turn up the volume. He swallowed and snapped his own chopsticks. "M' mum's schedule changes." He said, voice small. "Most months." He rubbed a hand over his nose, then took up his first roll of sushi. "This month she's on nights Monday, Tuesday 'n' Thursday." He took a mouthful of sushi, chewed and swallowed. "'N' she randomly works overtime too."

James hummed. His gaze was on Jian's profile, then slipped downwards to brush Jian's lap. "Okay." He said, gaze returning to his food.

Jian bit the inside of his lip, stomach churning. The kettle boiled. He moved to make himself some tea.

Chapter 22

Summary:

He felt peaceful and settled like he couldn't remember feeling before, as if all he'd know previously were echoes; saplings with slim and shallow roots.

The afternoon slipped quietly by and the commotion in Jian's gut faded bit by bit until nothing but comfort was left. Gentle noise came from the TV; birdsong and David Attenborough. James was carding his fingers through Jian's hair. Jian's eyes were closed.

"Do you want to see Liam today?" James broke the silence between them. "Since I'm here, I can drop you home early if you want the night off." He pressed a kiss to Jian's crown. "I'll still pay you."

Jian didn't open his eyes as he considered this. Admittedly, the idea of his own bed was a very nice one right now. It also meant an easy sidestep – for today, at least – regarding the mark on his neck or any blatant efforts to conceal it. Beneath these, the faintest of pangs existed. Because it was nice seeing Liam; spending time with him; taking care of him. "'Nly pay me f'r the work I actually do." He mumbled, cracking his eyes open and looking at the TV.

"Okay." James accepted with gentle ease.

Jian swallowed. His eyes returned closed. "C'you tell him 'm sick?"

"Course." James hummed.

Jian adjusted himself slightly. "Thanks."

James kissed his hair again.

 

They got going after an idle 30 minutes drifted past. The laundry Jian had put on was done by this time and he slipped back into his own clothes. James, seeing Jian for the first time after changing, looked at his neck. He made no comment, simply gazed. Jian felt heat dance on skin and looked at the floor. When James looked away, although Jian didn't see it, he could feel it; as if a weight had slipped from his body.

 

It was quiet between them as they settled into James's car; quiet as the garage door purred to life; quiet as James smoothly reversed onto the road. Jian's body was sore in a strange way. It ached and sitting provoked, here and there, discomfort. But he liked it. He felt peaceful and settled like he couldn't remember feeling before, as if all he'd know previously were echoes; saplings with slim and shallow roots. He leant his head on the passenger window and watched with unfocused eyes as big house after big house passed them by.

"D'you-- think 'bout her a lot?" he asked and it took him a few seconds to realise.

James glanced over, then back to the road. "Who?"

Jian was hesitant to say the words. They left him quietly. "Your wife."

James kept his eyes ahead and made no answer for a long few seconds. "Not as much as you'd probably expect."

Jian wasn't sure what that meant.

James was silent for another few seconds. Then, "I didn't marry her because I loved her. It was just what I thought was expected." He let out a small breath through his nose, slowing for an intersection. "One way or another, we wouldn't have stayed together." He flicked the indicators on and waited for an on-coming blue sedan. "I dunno. It's a bit complicated."

Jian swallowed and looked at the dashboard. Something within him felt a little bit raw; for James, for his dead wife, for Liam or for himself? He couldn't tell. "But you-- cared?"

James turned. His eyes stayed on the road and his right hand slipped down the wheel. Jian couldn't tell if no time or a very long time passed before James said, "Course I cared."

Jian took his lower lip into his mouth and shifted his gaze back out the passenger window. "You-- ever wanna get married again?"

And now, a soft breath of amusement slipped from James. Whatever atmosphere had – or had not; Jian really wasn't sure – built between them evaporated with wordless ease. "Slow down, baby."

Jian's heart stuttered and his cheeks lit up; he felt a scowl knot his brow and looked over. "I didn't fuckin' mean-"

"-I'm teasing." James cut in, still holding soft amusement.

Jian's face prickled.

James threw him a gentle smile.

Jian couldn't meet his eye.

James slowed for another turning. "You think you'll ever get married?"

Jian looked at his own knees. It was incredibly pathetic; incredibly embarrassing; incredibly childish, but he didn't like the way that question implied he and James were not permanent; that Jian would be without him in the future; that James had mindlessly assumed this. "Doesn't mean 'nythin' t' me." Jian muttered. "'N' I don't like the idea."

James hummed evenly.

Jian picked at his sweatpants.

 

The remainder of the car ride was without further conversation. Jian was stuck with his chest tightening pleasant and unpleasantly. Sweet words. Hot pleasure. Overwhelming sensations; a breed of longing that felt like need; like--

 

Jian shut his eyes and knocked his head on the window.

 

-like love.

 

He didn't want that. He didn't know what to do with it; where to put it. He didn't think James would want it. Too much too fast too juvenile.

 

The car slowed for a final time and the engine died. Jian forced himself to open his eyes and look at his shitty apartment building. Mouldy. Leaky. Unreliable. Broken. He thought of their neighbour across the hall; a single mum with two young boys. His stomach turned ever so faintly as Liam's playroom flittered through his mind. Every need met. Every safety net in place. Jian found it hard to understand.

 

A hand slipped into his hair. "You okay?"

Jian's attention latched itself to warm fingers and gentle nails. "Mn." Sluggishly, he pushed himself upright and unclipped his seatbelt; James pulled his hand back. "Just tired."

James gave a noise of acknowledgement and watched him reach for his schoolbag. His eyes, when Jian straightened, slipped to Jian's neck and rested there. Jian hadn't figured out yet how he'd hide the mark from his mother. "You look pretty." James told him, eyes unmoving and voice like velvet.

Jian's gut tightened halfheartedly and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Quiet. Then, "I like the way you bruise."

Jian's gut tightened further; a little more intently. His heart lost its rhythm and his fingers itched.

And then – in the middle of the afternoon, right outside his flat building where anyone might see – James leant forward. He did not kiss Jian's hair, temple, cheek or lips. His mouth found Jian's neck and opened. He licked over tingling skin, then kissed it wetly, with a hint of teeth, and Jian's cock was already starting to grow interested. The action lasted only a moment. James pulled away as Jian's brain fumbled for some kind of instruction manual. A soft kiss met Jian's mouth before James drew back altogether. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Jian's body burnt with subdued heat. He couldn't think what to say. He gripped the door handle, cracked the door open and stepped out. All he could manage, before slamming it shut, was an unsettled, "Yeah."

 

His eyes were glued to the floor as he carried himself to the building's entrance, inside and to the lifts. Only once safe within his flat did he lift them; take himself to the bathroom and look in the mirror. The red around his neck was paler than it had been earlier, but hardly by much. Jian lifted his fingers to touch it. Entirely unexceptional; no pain, no distinction, nothing. Jian let his hand drop, then his eyes.

 

He ignored the feelings in his gut for the rest of the day. He made himself dinner. He did a fractional amount of homework. He went to bed.

 

It was a small miracle he woke the next morning after his mum had left for work; a welcome delay of the inevitable, what happened to your neck? Jian rolled out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom and took a piss. Pain remained at the base of his spine and around his hips. He brushed his teeth and refused to look at his reflection. He grabbed his phone on his way to put the kettle on. He absentmindedly loaded a news website as he readied a mug. His gut dropped. His brow furrowed. The top headline today:

 

Boy, 17, Found Stabbed to Death With Neck Slashed

 

The hissing of the kettle faded from registration. Jian hesitated to tap the story; tried to assess whether or not he was capable of holding disturbance today. Before his assessment reached its conclusion, however, his thumb had moved on its own and their wifi did its best to load in a reasonable time.

 

Atop the page was an image. A white boy with dark hair, smiling. His arm was around a body to his right, cropped out of the photo. Jian bit the inside of his cheek and scrolled, not wanting to do any more than skim.

 

...body discovered early this morning in Penn Wynne by the creek... five stab wounds to the chest... throat slashed, likely postmortem... authorities are considering any connection to the babysitter killings that have taken place in the suburbs over this and last year.

 

Jian stopped. He swallowed and closed the tab, then locked his phone. Part of him wanted to ring James, ask if he'd heard and what he thought. Part of him wanted a low voice in his ear and calm, logical sentences. Jian watched the kettle's switch flick up and wondered at the feeling. It seemed odd he wanted reassurance about something so far from him; so disconnected from any aspect of his life. He lifted his right hand to his mouth and bit his thumbnail. Eventually, he lowered the hand and moved to put a teabag in his mug and water over top.

 

Maybe there were two, now. Maybe they were in contact. Maybe they were in competition. Or, maybe, it was only one. And maybe they'd grown bored.

 

Jian's throat clicked. If there was help, freely offered and accessible, would people reach out? Would violent thoughts grow tame? Or did it not work that way?

Notes:

regarding the genocide in gaza ('a textbook case'), ik its easy to feel helpless but pls check out some of these links:
verso has a FREE essay collection + some other valuable resources
palestine is n decolonize palestine are also great places to educate urself
protean has a series of letters from palestinians. pls take the time to read even just a few
here n here are vetted campaigns to help families (the first has links to help sudan and the drc too) n heres how u can purchase esims
this post is great for other ways to help
counting the kids puts the enduring violence in perspective. israels attacks are not new nor 'self-defence'
it is not antisemitic to criticise israel, a settler-colonial n apartheid state (there are myriad records documenting its mobilisation of fascist rhetoric + genocidal intentions n strategies [this post has further examples]). however, antisemitism remains pervasive n widespread n requires calling out when u see it. look out for each other
n as an aside, pls be aware of what the (mainstream western) media is telling u, what their sources are, what they choose (not) to show, what questions they are/nt asking. be careful ab automatically swallowing what u are fed
n pls attend a solidarity event wherever u are in the world
mai te awa ki te moana 🇵🇸

my tumblr/twitter (private only cos of bots:]) n i recently made a discord server if u wanna say hi🔥
n this is the main series >:)