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Jean was familiar with endurance.
He had endured in the Nest from the time he was fifteen. Emotional burdens, injuries as a result of his language or shortcomings and mistakes, were for him to claw his way through tooth and nail. If he were kicked, it was his responsibility to stand up. If he made a mistake on the court, it was his responsibility to fix it.
In the Nest, that had included anything to do with Jean’s personal health– the foods he ate, the sleep he got, the routine bodily functions he was forced to deal with. It also included his menstrual cycle; there were no days off for him as Perfect Court, and he was expected to perform just as well as he might on any other day. His period came irregularly, but when it did, the pain was debilitating. The prospect of trying to climb his way to only be given a minimum dosage of ibuprofen was useless at the time. Jean suffered through it, aching and nauseous, and it was all he could do to endure.
Ever since the final months of his stay at Evermore and the moment Renee Walker had picked him up from the Nest, his period had been an absent presence in Jean’s life. Staying with the Foxes and then moving to California with Cat, Laila, and Jeremy, he hadn’t needed to think about anything but his healing knee and ribs.
When he woke up dizzy and sore Saturday morning, he barely managed to curse under his breath and force himself up out of bed.
Cat was meant to arrive back at the apartment soon enough, based on the time, but Laila and Jeremy would be out until the evening. That meant Jean could handle this the best he could without raising too much suspicion or bringing any of their concern into the mix; he had endured before. He could do it again.
Jean nearly collapsed in on himself the moment he stood. He latched onto the bedside table, balancing himself, trying to inhale and exhale deeply. The bathroom was only down the hallway– he could make it there. Thankfully, none of the sheets were stained, although he would have to check himself and make sure none of it would be permanently damaged. Cat and Laila had only recently bought him new clothes. He would be offended if they were ruined so quickly.
He managed to push himself into a full standing position, shuffling out of his bedroom. The lights were off in the apartment, and Jean mentally thanked Laila and Jeremy for leaving everything dark. Once he entered the bathroom, he began digging through the cabinets, huffing when he finally found the women's packages of hygiene products.
In the Nest, the type he used was often handed to him with no other say in the matter. Here, in Los Angeles, with his new roommates and friends, the cabinet was packed with so many brands and sizes and specifications that Jean’s headache, which he hadn’t realized he’d had, managed to intensify.
At random, he picked one and grabbed it, pulling out a pad and beginning to change before realizing he had forgotten another set of clothes. Jean managed to rub his hand down his face, groaning, before shuffling back to his bedroom.
In the end, the process of grabbing clothes, getting changed, throwing his old clothing in the wash, and passing out on the couch took half an hour. Jabberwocky only woke up when Jean started the washer and settled himself next to Jean’s miserable figure on the couch, gnawing at his paws and watching Jean without an ounce of sympathy.
“Miserable, useless, pitiful creature,” Jean mumbled, head resting on his arms as he lay on his stomach. “You are no help at all.”
Jab licked his paws again in response.
Jean groaned. He had lost track of the time; to keep from worrying anyone, he should at least sit up, but the idea of moving made Jean want to strangle himself. The rest of the next hour passed in a pained blur as Jean fell in and out of a restless sleep.
He woke up at the sound of keys jangling and the door being unlocked. Jean managed to push himself up enough to watch Cat stroll in, hanging her items on the hooks in the front hallway. Her hair was slightly mussed, but her face was sweaty from her time in the sun.
“I’m home,” she sing-songed, and Jean barely managed to suppress a flinch. The apartment had been near silent for the past few hours.
Cat wandered into the living room, looking around. Jean raised himself just above the cushion, and Cat tilted her head curiously.
“Hey Jean,” she said slowly.
“Hello,” Jean managed to push out.
Cat’s eyebrows furrowed. Jean realized quickly that any plan he might’ve had of keeping anyone from worrying about him was futile.
“Are you feeling okay?” She asked, leaning over the couch. Cat pet Jabberwocky, eyes staying on Jean’s form. “You don’t usually lie down. Just tired?”
Jean, despite everything, didn’t want to lie to Cat. They were past casual lies to hide useless things, and, he noted distantly, his current condition could impact his playing. That was enough to have him respond quietly, “I am– I will be fine.” At her look, he added, “It is a temporary condition.”
Cat raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she drawled, clearly not convinced. “Could you tell me your symptoms? I might have something that could help.”
Jean shook his head, woozy at the motion. “It will end before any treatment is necessary.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t minimize your suffering,” she said, shrugging. Her hand hovered just above his head, and at his small nod, she carded it through his hair gently.
“It’s not–” Jean sighed, exasperated. He forced himself to say, however choppily it came out, “It is menstruation.”
Cat’s eyes widened for a split second before softening. Jean was even more grateful that Laila and Jeremy were still out; having to deal with Cat’s empathy and easy kindness was hard enough.
“Okay,” Cat said, planting a quick kiss on his head before standing up. She made her way to the kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing making Jean flinch. “Okay. Okay! Hey, that’s like– so much better than what it could’ve been.”
Jean scowled. “So much better,” he said, mimicking her American accent.
Cat grimaced. “I should’ve never taught you that. But yes, so much better. I can treat cramps. I can’t treat, say, a concussion. You’re talking to the best person for this.”
She made her way back, setting a glass of water and two large pills onto the coffee table. Jean glared at it, uninterested, but Cat only pointed between the items knowingly.
“I’m going to make some tea, since I think that might help your pain. I still want you to take those, though.”
“I said no treatment would be necessary.”
“Jean,” Cat said smoothly. “You look like you want to die or to kill someone.”
He hummed. Both options sounded desirable, but Cat only slipped away to the kitchen again. Jean squeezed his eyes shut before forcing himself to reach out and take the medication in a few swift swigs. Jab watched him, head tilted curiously, and Jean petted him on the head before laying his head on his arms again.
When Cat came back, she carefully placed the mug onto the coffee table, a soft smile on her face at the sight of the half-empty glass of water. She settled down next to him on the couch, refusing to let him move to make room for her. Cat put the TV on a random sports channel before quickly changing it after seeing it wasn’t Exy related.
They sat in comfortable silence. Jean managed to drink a portion of the tea, allowing Cat to give quiet commentary on the talk show they had landed on. Eventually, she spoke up a little louder, checking again before brushing through his hair with gentle fingers.
“Sometimes warmth can help. I think Laila has a heating pad somewhere in the closet; I can go and get it for you, if you want.”
Jean debated it in his mind for all of two seconds before shaking his head. “Thank you. I am okay.”
She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up before turning back to the talk show, groaning at what one of the stars was saying. Jean added his own mockery, and they fell back into quiet.
Jean couldn’t tell how much time had passed before the doorknob to the apartment rattled. Jeremy and Laila stumbled in, setting bags of groceries down on the counter. The sound made Jean bury his head deeper into his arms, and Cat gave a pat to his shoulder in sympathy.
Jab jumped up and ran over to Jeremy. He cooed at the old dog, and Jean finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position to look over the edge of the couch. Cat made an obnoxious cough, eyebrows raised incredulously at the sight of Jean staring, but he shot her a glare and moved on.
Jeremy’s hair was tussled, his face pink from the sun. His hair had grown out in the past few months; the brown roots were starting to return, but Jeremy had tied his hair into a loose bun at the back of his neck. He was rubbing Jab’s cheeks and smiling brightly, dimples on full display.
He looked up from Jab to seek out Jean. When his eyes landed on him, his smile widened, but his brows furrowed slightly. Jeremy turned his head in a silent question, and Jean shook his own in response. They could talk later, although a voice in Jean’s head told him nothing was truly wrong.
Cat got up from the couch and half-jogged over to Laila, spinning her around while she was mid-unbagging cans of food. She batted Cat’s arms, laughing, and Cat planted a loud kiss on her cheek.
Jeremy unpacked the groceries while Cat and Laila caught up. He got it done quickly and folded up the bags, putting them away before wandering over to Jean. Jeremy stood behind the couch, much like Cat had done only a few hours previously, and smiled at Jean, not quite reaching his eyes.
“Hey.”
“Hello,” Jean said, unimpressed.
Jeremy leaned in close, glancing behind him to ensure that Cat and Laila were still distracted. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Jean said. He did his best to be genuine. “Cramps. I’m fine. Cat gave me medication.”
He nodded. “Sorry, that sucks.” Then, he smiled sideways. “Your accent is thicker. Side effect?”
Jean scowled. “Do not test your luck.”
“How’s your pain?” Jeremy asked, ignoring the threat. Jean brought his hand up, tilting it back and forth in a so-so motion. Jeremy frowned. “Usually this bad?”
“Usually does not happen at all,” Jean shrugged. “I am managing.”
Jeremy paused, as if thinking. He turned to make sure the women were still busy, and Jean mused that they were practically making out at this point, but his thoughts came to a grinding halt when Jeremy leaned beside his ear. His breath was hot on Jean’s cheek as he spoke in quiet French.
“Je pourrais t’aider, si tu le voulais.”
Jean’s head spun; this time, not from the pain. I could help you, if you wanted.
Jeremy’s French had gotten unfairly better. He still struggled with certain pronunciations, and sometimes the words came out choppy and uneven, but Jean could make out his words with ease.
Jean wouldn’t let his newfound skill get to his head that easily. “Oh, and how is that, Jeremy?”
Jeremy’s face turned a brighter shade of pink, but his eyes only gained a new kind of determination. Jean almost trembled.
“I can show you tonight,” he offered casually. “After Cat and Laila go to bed?”
Jean forced himself to retain eye contact and ignore the growing feeling in his abdomen. He hummed. “We’ll see.”
Jeremy opened his mouth to say something else, but was quickly interrupted by Cat’s whistle. Laila crossed her arms, a smug expression on her face, Cat latched onto her side.
“I don’t know what that just was, but I might be sick,” Cat said.
“Keep the French bedroom talk for the bedroom,” Laila added, turning back to the counter.
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk. You and Cat were practically making out just now.”
“You two are practically making out in the locker rooms every day,” Cat commented. “I’m astonished the Trojans haven’t realized you guys are together. If you guys weren’t so cute, I’d complain more.”
Laila looked over at the brewed tea and exchanged a glance with Cat. She reached into the cabinet for a mug of her own, pouring herself some and taking a long sip. “I wonder if the Foxes bet on them,” she said, shooting a look towards the two.
Jean rubbed his temples. Jeremy chuckled and moved around so that he could sit down on the couch next to Jean.
Jean leaned against the armrest of the couch, only distantly paying attention to what was playing on screen. Cat and Laila made their way back into the living room, going back and forth in a discussion that Jeremy chimed in on when he saw fit. Jean zoned in and out on what was around him; it was comforting to be around his friends, but the pain medication Cat had given him was only now starting to work. It made him drowsy and even more exhausted, and he still felt an aching, lingering pain, his joints stiff and uncomfortable.
The rest of the day passed, the group eating dinner and lazing around watching movies or cable. Once it was dark enough outside and everyone had spent their time together, Cat and Laila turned in for the night. Jeremy and Jean saying their goodbyes before being left alone in the living room.
Light from the TV was the only thing that allowed Jean to see Jeremy’s face. He leaned forward, giving Jean enough time to pull away, before capturing him in a long kiss.
Jean fell into it without hesitation, but Jeremy pulled away. He shuffled around on the couch until he was slightly above Jean, planting a kiss on his nose and forehead. Jean huffed annoyance, going to thread his fingers through the back of Jeremy’s hair, before grumbling in agitated French that his bun was still up.
Jeremy pressed against his chest, laughing against his lips. “I’ll take it out once we get to our room.”
“I will take it out now, if you don’t move,” Jean whispered harshly, no real venom in his voice. Jeremy only smiled again.
“Can you walk?”
Jean glared. “Can I walk?” he mocked, mimicking Jeremy’s accent and forcing himself onto his feet. His vision immediately tunneled, and before he could realize what had happened, Jeremy was holding onto his forearm and shoulder, keeping him upright.
“That’s a no, then,” Jeremy said, slipping beside Jean and readjusting them so that he could lead Jean to their room. Jean scoffed, but leaned his weight on Jeremy nonetheless.
Jeremy avoided the overhead light when they entered the bedroom, moving to make sure that Jean was sitting on the edge of the bed before tugging the chain on the lamp. Warm light flooded the room, and Jeremy shut the door quietly before returning to Jean.
He cupped Jean’s face with one hand, using the other to lean Jean down into the mattress. He kissed him, lips gentle against his, readjusting and moving them until they were comfortably sprawled out on the sheets. Jeremy was careful to not put all of his weight on Jean, but still managed to act as a grounding figure, letting Jean run his fingers through his hair until he managed to undo the bun at the back of his head.
Jeremy made an amused noise against his mouth. Jean pulled away to take him in, to admire the way his hair was curled from the hairtie and his skin was flushed in the lamplight, before returning to the kiss.
Eventually, though, Jeremy was the one to pause. He kissed the corner of Jean’s mouth softly, his voice quiet as he asked, “What do you want, Jean?”
Fuck what I deserve. What about what I want? Jean wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. The words that came to his mind were too scattered or not accurate enough for him to decide. His mind was hazy, the good kind of floaty that he could fall into when he was so close to Jeremy. Everything he could possibly think of wanting was right in front of him.
But Jeremy was looking for an answer. They were still both working through their own pasts, and avoiding nights taking turns for the worst, Jeremy and Jean tried their best to communicate clearly and establish boundaries before the lines had to be drawn. If one asked a question, the other was to answer genuinely, even if Jeremy’s warm breath across his face sent a sick shudder down his spine.
“I want to not feel as if my uterus is twisting itself into elaborate knots,” Jean responded, attempting to press a hard kiss to Jeremy’s lips. The attempt didn’t work as well as he had wanted, since Jeremy was still poised next to his mouth rather than in front of it, but Jeremy smiled and moved to give it to him.
Jeremy hummed, moving to kiss his cheek, then his jaw. “I might have something that could help.”
“Oh, please share, Jeremy,” Jean said, nodding sarcastic encouragement.
Jean could almost see Jeremy’s pupils dilate. He gave his brain a moment to catch up, taking advantage of the pause to kiss Jeremy’s jaw. Jeremy blinked once before smiling again, one hand drifting down to Jean’s sweatpants. He curled a finger into the waistband of his briefs, tugging the elastic, making sure not to let it snap back.
“May I?”
Jean wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Like this? I am disgusting, you foul heathen.”
“You’re never disgusting,” Jeremy responded without hesitation, voice genuine. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Well, except maybe after practice. But honestly, you look even–”
“No,” Jean interrupted, kissing him again. “That is enough of that.”
Jeremy gently tugged at the elastic again. “You never said yes.”
“I also never said no.”
“You called me a foul heathen, if I remember right,” Jeremy said.
Jean stared at him. Jeremy’s smile only widened.
“Yes,” Jean resigned, sighing against the quick brush of Jeremy’s lips against his.
Jeremy lifted himself off the bed and gave Jean’s calf a quick pat. “I’ll be right back,” he said, slipping his hand into Jean’s and giving it a light peck. “Just need to grab something.”
Jean rolled his hand impatiently. Jeremy left the room and was back after only a minute, a towel thrown hastily over his shoulder. His arms flexed as he gripped it, freckles and tan lines on display in the dim light, eyes shining in the way they only did when he looked at Jean.
Jean was salivating.
“Told you I’d only be a minute,” Jeremy said, flipping the towel in his hand and unfolding it. Jean tried to shoot him another glare, but Jeremy only moved closer, kissing him before helping to set the towel underneath him. “This okay?”
Jean let out a deep breath. “Yes.”
Jeremy smiled, moving back over Jean slightly, hovering just above his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, the touch soft and light. “Are you going to let me take care of you, Jean?”
Heat pooled in his abdomen, mixing with the ache in the same place. “Do not patronize me.”
Jeremy’s eyebrows raised, false surprise on his face. “Manners.”
“Jeremy.”
“Yes, love of my life?”
Jean was going to kill him. “Please.”
Jeremy leaned down and over Jean again, kissing him. Jean deepened the already hard kiss, opening his mouth, and Jeremy opened his own, happy to reciprocate the need.
Before long, Jeremy was breaking away and pulling Jean’s shirt up, pressing his lips feather-light against his chest and collarbone, avoiding his neck. He trailed down his stomach, keeping his teeth from grazing the skin, and Jean let out a shaky sigh.
Jeremy worked his way to the line of his briefs, kissing the elastic there before tugging them down with his finger. He pulled them off carefully, throwing them off to the side of the bed, and reached up for Jean’s hand.
He gave it to him and held on. Jeremy gave him a reassuring tap of his thumb, kissing further and further down, using his free hand to work Jean’s legs open wider.
Jeremy planted a kiss on the inside of his thigh. “Doing alright?”
Jean leaned his head back on the pillow. A part of him was tempted to respond with a sarcastic remark, but he held back. “Yes.”
He could feel Jeremy smile into another kiss, closer to where Jean wanted him most. “Good.”
The warm breath against his skin forced another shudder through Jean, and he tightened his grip on Jeremy’s hand. Jeremy only continued down, lips pressing just enough to be felt, setting a pace so slow that Jean was already crumbling.
Jeremy lifted his head up again briefly, eyes squinted as if he were thinking. “Can you trust me?”
Jean stared at him, blinking back to wariness, trying to fight the content fog his brain had fallen into. “What does this mean?”
“It means trust me,” Jeremy elaborated unhelpfully. “You’re still hurting, right?”
“Well, yes, but I thought this was your strange idea of helping.”
“Oh, it is,” Jeremy smiled. “But…”
“Spit it out or say nothing at all, Jeremy,” Jean said, impatient. He gave a gentle tap to his hand, no actual frustration in the gesture.
“I’d like to make you feel good for as long as I can,” Jeremy responded, pulling their joined hands down towards him so that he could kiss them. “But I want you to trust me. If you decide you want to come–”
“Vulgar language for a man who is all talk,” Jean interrupted.
“-- Then you tell me, alright?” Jeremy continued, only smiling a little wider at Jean’s words.
Jean held his breath, afraid to do anything else. It wasn’t the first time they’d had sex; even if they were still learning with each other what it meant for them specifically, it wasn’t a new experience. But what Jeremy was suggesting– what Jean hoped he was understanding correctly, as his brain was still lagging just behind where it should be– had been reserved for Jeremy to receive. Now, he wanted to return the favor.
The idea of it– of Jeremy taking care of him, of drawing it out, just as Jean had done nights prior– made his head spin.
“Yes,” Jean managed in a breath, squeezing Jeremy’s hand again.
Jeremy brushed his lips against Jean’s knuckles before stooping back between his legs. And then there was heat and warmth, and the noises falling out of Jean’s mouth had to be covered with his other hand.
He fought to stay focused on the hand holding his or the ceiling above him, but it was quickly made impossible. Jeremy circled his tongue, as if he hadn’t done this before and was trying to memorize Jean, worship him in a way no one else had or would.
When they had first tried oral sex, Jeremy had been self-conscious, telling Jean that he was inexperienced. Despite his concerns, he had clearly been using his practice to his full advantage, because Jean couldn’t help a low moan tumbling out behind his covered lips.
Jeremy pushed deeper, tongue circling over and over again, further in, drawing out a long hiss from Jean. He hummed, the noise riveting through Jean’s body, and he squeezed Jeremy’s hand again. His plan would fall apart quickly if Jean couldn’t even last through the first five minutes. All Jeremy had to do was touch Jean, and he was falling apart– not even beneath his fingers, Jean noted.
Jean shot a glare down at Jeremy, but the attempt was futile, because Jeremy only looked up at him and smiled brightly.
Jeremy rubbed his hand with his thumb. Jean squeezed it again, reassuring; Jeremy was trying his best to check in and make sure he was still okay. Jean wished he could convey being more than okay, aside from his annoyance at Jeremy’s ability to have him turning into a pile of mush under him, but for now, that motion would have to be enough.
He circled again, slightly farther and longer, pushing deeper and slowing down even more, and Jean groaned at the sensation. Jeremy held up his other hand, clearly showcasing his next movement before bringing it back down between Jean’s legs.
“Jeremy,” Jean barely managed, his other hand shifting from his mouth to dig into the sheets. “Fuck.”
Jeremy slipped another finger in, hitting the same spot, keeping his mouth buried. Jean let out a hard breath, then another, squeezing his eyes shut. His legs tensed, and before he could warn Jeremy, Jeremy stopped abruptly.
Jean huffed, annoyed at the sudden loss, before looking back down at him. Jeremy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Jean wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“Do not think about kissing me with that mouth,” Jean said, pointing a finger in his direction. Jeremy grinned, and Jean scowled, because how Jeremy could act like a vampire in bed was beyond him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jeremy said, moving up Jean's body. “How are you feeling?”
Jean tilted his head from side to side, weighing the different answers he could say. His brain was still catching up from the sudden cutoff, so he decided on, “Could be better.”
Jeremy laughed, eyes crinkling in amusement. Jean glanced up at the ceiling before deciding that he could indulge in staring, even just once. “I told you to trust me, mon soleil. Five minutes isn’t going to do anything, if it was even that long.”
Jean barely processed the brief insult before his brain buffered. He tried to keep the– whatever he was feeling– out of his voice as he asked, “What did you just call me?”
Jeremy faltered. “Uh– mon soleil. Am I saying that right? Did I accidentally say something terrible?”
“Who taught you that?”
“It was in a guide my tutor gave me,” Jeremy explained, brows furrowed. “It was one of those beginner ones from a while ago. I learned soleil, and I thought if I put mon in front of it, it would be, like, romantic. I don’t know, it made more sense in my head. If you don’t like it, then I can–”
Jean smothered the rest of his sentence with his hand. Jeremy’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but he stopped talking. “You do not have to stop,” he forced out, trying to ignore the swirling in his chest.
Jeremy glanced down at Jean’s uncovered bottom half, smiling widely as Jean removed his hand. “Oh, I think I understand now.”
Jean flicked his forehead. “You understand nothing, you insufferable imbecile.”
“Whatever you say, mon soleil,” Jeremy said, and then his fingers came back down, and any possible retort Jean might’ve had left his mind.
Jeremy avoided kissing Jean’s mouth, but he trailed gentle presses down his chest and arms, lingering in each area as he continued to push his fingers into him. Jean briefly recognized that there were three digits, now, rather than two, before they curled.
The moan was pushed from his chest before he could think to suppress it. Jeremy kissed his collarbone, and Jean slapped a hand atop his mouth.
Jeremy frowned. “I wish we could’ve gotten Cat and Laila out tonight,” he said, pressing his mouth to Jean’s bicep. “I would’ve loved to hear you, Jean.”
Jean whimpered. How he had been reduced to this in only a few minutes, he wasn’t sure, but the answer fed into his hazy mind as the fingers inside of him curled again, somehow deeper: Jeremy.
He was going to repay the favor another night, Jean managed to promise himself. Another night when he didn’t feel halfway to death, and when Jeremy had proven he could shut up and take it, because if Jeremy kept talking–
“Shit,” he hissed, trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling. His neck ached with the effort, but it was better than looking down at Jeremy. “Shit.”
Jeremy laughed into his chest, slowing his pace slightly. “I thought this would take a little longer.”
“You talk too much,” Jean managed between heavy breaths. “Far too much.”
Jeremy pushed deeper, dragging, still somehow managing to move slower than before. Jean grit his teeth, working his jaw. Before he could think twice about it, he brought his free hand up to Jeremy’s face and drew him close. Jeremy raised an eyebrow, expression far too smug for Jean’s liking.
“I thought you said not to kiss you,” Jeremy noted, smirking sideways. Jean ignored him in favor of sighing against his lips.
The taste was nearly enough to make him recoil, but Jeremy only grew closer, content even with how uncomfortable the position must’ve been for him. Jean wanted to turn him over and get him comfortable, give his hands and lips a break, but Jeremy stayed in place. Jean couldn’t even say he was slowly taking him apart; with each movement of his fingers, each push and pull of his lips and tongue, Jean was torn down and put back together again.
Jeremy started moving his fingers again, circling repetitively around the same spot. Jean choked out a gasp, Jeremy catching it in another deep kiss, thrusting farther and with more vigor.
He unconsciously moved his hips, trying to grind down on Jeremy’s fingers, but suddenly their joined hands were pressing against his abdomen lightly. Jean managed to open his eyes and glance down. Jeremy broke away for a brief second, planting a kiss to his jaw.
“I know, Jean,” he said, peppering light pecks to his face. “But you’re doing so good. Let me do all the work. You said you’d let me take care of you, mon soleil, remember?
Jean wrapped his free hand over his mouth again, trembling. Another sound managed to break from his lungs, weak and quiet, more of a groan than a moan. Jeremy kissed the side of his mouth again, rubbing his thumb where he held Jean’s other hand.
His hips tried again to push down, but Jeremy held him gently in place. He lowered his head until he was next to the side of Jean’s head, continuing the same pace as before. In his ear, Jeremy murmured to him just under his breath. “You’re doing so well, Jean. You’re taking it so well, mon soleil, I’m so proud of you. I told you I’d help, and I meant it. Is the pain any better?”
Jean, had he been more present in that moment, might’ve slapped Jeremy, or at least shoved his face away. Instead, he pressed his hand harder against his mouth, eyes shut tight. There was warm breath fanning his face, Jeremy’s own quiet noises only making the hot need in his body grow more intense.
“Hey,” Jeremy spoke up again. He kissed Jean’s temple before circling his fingers deeper again, and Jean could feel him smile against his face. “Can you tell me how you’re doing, or is that too much?”
He took a deep breath and squeezed Jeremy’s hand, nodding. Jean wasn’t sure if he could manage a verbal response without making crude noises that Cat would mention the next morning, but he did his best to tell Jeremy that he was okay. And, as much as Jean would refuse to admit it, Jeremy was helping. His muscles weren’t nearly as tense as they were five minutes ago, even if relaxed wasn’t a word for how he was feeling at that moment.
Again, Jeremy stopped moving, only slowing down slightly before doing so. Jean’s eyes watered, his chest tight and mind floaty. Jeremy was saying something to him, but after being cut off again, Jean could barely process the words, much less formulate a response.
After a moment, when he was able to blink away the tears and see Jeremy staring down at him, pressing gentle closed-mouth kisses to his jaw and ear, he managed a quiet, “You are despicable and I will remember this.”
Jeremy chuckled against his chest. “But it’s helping, right?”
Jean used his free hand to brush some of Jeremy’s hair out of his eyes. Jeremy took the lack of response as the answer it was before settling the bottom half of his face into Jean’s hair.
“I told you to tell me if you wanted to come, Jean,” he said softly, planting a quick kiss to his scalp.
“Please,” Jean said. “Please, Jeremy.” He sighed in near-immediate relief as soon as Jeremy slipped his fingers back in again, slowly building up back to the pace he had set previously.
It was only a minute longer before Jean was tensing, Jeremy kissing him as a drawn-out noise fell from his lips. He slumped further into the pillows, brain dizzy and foggy. He tried not to wince at the feeling of Jeremy’s fingers sliding back out of him, shutting his eyes and breathing, waiting for his heart rate to return to an even pace.
He was distantly aware of Jeremy shifting his weight off the bed. Jean reached out, and Jeremy tapped his hand softly, waiting for him to blink back to wariness.
“I’m going to go get the bath ready. Is that okay?” Jeremy frowned when Jean squinted up at him. “Do I need to stay for a few more minutes? You look pretty out of it, Jean.”
Jean shook his head. “I’m–” This time he did wince, voice cracking from the disusage and sounds that had been forced from his mouth. “I am okay. Not used to…” He shook Jeremy’s hand instead of finishing his sentence, hoping he would understand without the words.
Jeremy nodded, and Jean found his breathing coming easier than before. “Okay. But if you need anything, call for me, alright? I’m right down the hall.”
“You are practically two feet away,” Jean noted, dropping Jeremy’s hand, ignoring the clammy feeling it left. “You’re not leaving the country.”
“I might be if Cat or Laila happen to be awake for a glass of water,” he said, grimacing at the thought.
“With how they were staring at each other over dinner, they were likely doing more than this.”
Jeremy laughed. Jean’s stomach twisted in a knot at the sight, and he fought to stay focused on their original conversation. He was already listing all of the things he was going to repay Jeremy with, making a mental note of each one.
Before Jean could think of anything else, Jeremy leaned forward and kissed his forehead, turning around and walking to the door. “I’ll be back in five minutes, tops. If you want to take a quick power nap until then, go for it. I’ll make sure to wake you up enough to get you there.”
Jean managed to roll his eyes. “I am a college adult. I do not take powernaps.”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So when I come back, you’ll be wide awake?”
“Jeremy.”
“Jean.”
“Go fix the bath.”
“Whatever you say, mon soleil,” Jeremy sing-songed, leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.
Jean didn’t fall asleep, but it was a near thing. When Jeremy returned to their bedroom a few minutes later, he helped Jean up and into the bathroom, desperately hoping Cat and Laila would be in their room for the night. They managed to slip in and finish undressing Jean, and Jeremy left briefly to grab him a change of clothes and slip the dirty towel into the laundry.
He finished getting ready and slipped into the warm bath. Jeremy had made sure it was only the dimmer overhead light rather than the bright one, and Jean closed his eyes. Contentment, satisfaction, and comfort were all things he was still growing used to in California. A part of him tried to claim he didn’t deserve it, but when Jeremy came back with fresh clothes and his real, authentic smile– not the one he used when in front of a camera or commanding the Trojans, but the one reserved for Cat, Laila, and Jean– the voice went silent.
Jeremy stooped down to the edge of the tub and ran his fingers through Jean’s hair. Jean tried to stay sitting up straight, but he leaned into the touch, nearly slumping over. Jeremy only smiled and began to wash him, lathering shampoo through his hair.
When they finally left the bathroom, settling back into bed underneath the fresh sheets and in clean clothes, Jean finally let himself lie down, the tension seeping out of his body. Jeremy wrapped his arm around him, holding him tight, and Jean could feel the lingering pull of sleep drag him down.
Before he could fall unconscious, he murmured under his breath, “Thank you, Jeremy.”
“Any time, Jean. I promise,” Jeremy responded easily, planting a kiss to his temple. “I’m glad I could help.”
Jean shook his head, eyes falling closed. Jeremy clicked the lamp off. “You always help. Stop speaking as if you do not.”
If Jeremy responded, Jean didn’t hear him. He fell asleep within the next few moments, the dull ache eased by the warm body next to him.