Work Text:
It was still full dark out when Jamie awoke to a soft thunk and a very quietly muttered damn.
It took him a few moments to realize he was at Keeley's place, snuggled in bed against a warm body, blearily watching Keeley gather up her things by the dim light from the hall.
“Aw, no,” he said blearily. “Come back to bed, it's too early for anything.”
She set her bag down by the door and came back to lean over the bed, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead and then a warmer one on the mouth. She tasted like mint toothpaste, fresh and clean, and he tried to deepen the kiss before she pulled back.
“Sorry, babe,” she whispered. “Flight leaves at seven, and I'm picking Rebecca up, too.”
“Nooooo, stay,” he said, and she chuckled, pushing him back down on the bed.
“You'll be fine for four days,” she said. “After all, I'm leaving you in very capable hands, aren't I?”
“Wha-?”
Jamie's brain spun uselessly, and then he finally realized that if Keeley was up and dressed, then she wasn't the warm body pressed against him. A quick glance over his shoulder caught him up, and he leaned up on his elbow, a little more awake.
“Seriously? Man'd dump me in the river as soon as look at me. Take me with you.”
“Oh yeah? And what would you do at a women in power conference anyway?'
“Celebrate women in power with a lot of–“ He gestured and Keeley gave him a light smack on the shoulder.
“Women in power is not the same as woman on top!”
“It's not?”
She gave him a last lingering kiss.
“Well, it might be to you. But get some more sleep. Be nice to Roy. I love you.”
Jamie grunted something that was getting closer to a clear I love you, and Keeley was gone, out the door and switching off the hall light to drop the room back into a soft early-morning darkness. Next to him, Roy grumbled, turning over and incidentally pushing closer to Jamie. His back was a wall of warmth against him, and Jamie had a sudden sneaking feeling that he was getting away with something.
I'm not, he thought. I'm here fair and square, they both invited me over, they've both been fucking me six ways from Sunday, they both gave me my key. I'm not getting away with anything they didn't throw right at my face.
He tried to go to sleep on that note, but there was a little voice in the back of his head that wouldn't shut up, that asked him, what if I am getting away with something? What if I'm not supposed to be here?
That thought took root fast, and his eyes opened in the darkness as his mind ticked away.
Well, that was fun, wasn't it? He liked getting away with shit. There was an awful lot he got away with just by being Jamie Tartt, and he had learned early how good the things you weren't supposed to have were.
He ran his hand over the cool sheets he lay on, smooth and crisp, expensive. Keeley and Roy's, she'd said they'd bought them together, and there was a knot in Jamie's belly when he remembered it now. He didn't give a flying fuck about sheets, but the idea that he was on them like some mangy stray getting up where he shouldn't be stuck in his head, and his cheeks got hot.
It was hot, wasn't it? It was the same kind of heady pulse and adrenaline rush as when he'd nicked candy bars and earbuds as a kid–he wasn't supposed to be here, but he was, mucking things up, dirty and cheap and loud, having a grand old time until–
Until he got caught, and now he couldn't help sliding a hand down between his legs, fondling his hardening cock.
Fun and games until you get caught, but then it was just a different kind of game, wasn't it? Different kind of fun too, and now he was more conscious of Roy's weight behind him in the bed, Roy's low breathing, Roy's heat pressed lightly against his back.
Roy probably hated having him here, in his bed, hands all over his girlfriend, though he'd given Jamie a flat look of disdain when Jamie suggested it.
“She's her own fucking Keeley, and she can have anyone's hands on her she fucking well likes,” he had said. “I'm not fucking sharing her like she's a granola bar, and she's not fucking sharing me either. We're two fucking adults asking you, another fucking adult, if you want to have sex with us, separately or together.”
Yeah, it all sounded good, and he had, separately and together, but that was just what Roy said in front of Keeley, and Keeley was gone now, so what the fuck was he doing still in their bed?
Seriously, what the fuck do you think you're doing? Can't you take a fucking hint?
Jamie closed his eyes, imaging a hard hand closing over the back of his neck, pressing his face into the pillow. His hand on his cock tightened, just a little vicious.
Look at you, pathetic little fuck, look at how fucking hard you are for this. This is what you're good for, isn't it? Little whore.
Yeah, yeah he was, he'd open his legs and his mouth when he was told to do so, he'd take it, he'd keep taking it because it was so fucking good, it didn't matter as long as someone's hands were in his hair, as long as someone hung on to him even for a minute.
But I'd have to fucking pay a whore. A whore would have some kind of self-respect, wouldn't he? Not you. Not you, Jamie fucking Tartt. You'd roll over and beg for this shit, you'd beg for me to split you open, make you cry.
There were already tears stinging his eyes, and he pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling the smell of Keeley's lotion, Roy's shampoo. He was wrong, he wasn't supposed to be here, but he would give anything, take anything so he could stay, and fuck, it was so fucking hot trying to earn it.
Get on your stomach, spread your legs. I fucking said spread them. Come on, arse up in the air. That's how a piece of trash like you takes it. No, don't fucking look at me, you don't get to fucking look at me. Just get your teeth in the pillow there, there, just like that, and if you fucking make a peep, I'll turn you over and knock your fucking teeth out, so shut the fuck up, no one wants to hear your fucking whining, Tartt.
The arousal was a low burn deep in his belly and a familiar heaviness in his chest as he imagined it, Roy's hard hands on his hips, Roy's cock pushing in without any preparation at all. Fuck, it would hurt, and Roy wouldn't care. He could scream into the pillow, and Roy wouldn't care, wouldn't stop, would force him to take a fucking like it was a beating, and–
“Th' fuck?”
Jamie's reflexes were fast, but in all fairness, he was pretty into what he was doing, which was getting himself up to one hell of an orgasm. That was his excuse anyway, on the delayed little yelp he made when Roy rolled over and closed his hand over Jamie's.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?” Jamie asked, his voice too high.
“Looks like you're wanking off while I'm asleep,” Roy said, his voice growing clearer. “Keeley gone?”
“Ye–yeah, while ago,” Jamie licked his lips, because Roy wasn't letting go. In fact, he was coming to settle closer behind Jamie, the hair on his chest tickling Jamie's back.
“Mm. Pity. She likes a show.”
There was an edge to Roy's voice that made Jamie catch his breath, and he cleared his throat.
“You gonna do something down there? 'Cause if you're not ...”
“What? You're going to come all over yourself like a teenager? Move your fucking hand.”
Jamie did as Roy said, hissing a soft breath as Roy took firm hold of his cock.
“Ah, fuck–“
Roy's grasp was firm, nearly perfect, and Jamie's eyes closed again, leaning into the sensation of having Roy's hand on him, Roy's breath in his ear.
“Tell me.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me what you were thinking about.”
“... You.”
A laugh that had just a slightly sinister shade to it.
“Yeah? And what was I doing?”
“Fuh- fucking me. You were fucking me.”
“Mm. Tell me about that.”
“Don't fucking want to.” What had sounded so sexy inside his head felt strange in light of the possibility of saying it to Roy now.
“No?”
“No,” he insisted, and then his body hitched at the idea of Roy forcing it out of him.
“All right. Here, push back.”
He did as Roy said, making a soft surprised sound at Roy's erection pressed against his thigh.
“Fuck,” he hissed, and before Roy could make a smart remark about that, he pushed back more firmly.
“Yeah, that's right, just like that, that's good.”
Even as he thrust into Roy's fist, he frowned briefly at that. Good didn't have much of a place in his head when he was turned on. He shook it off.
“Come on,” he said instead. “Harder.”
“Demanding little brat.”
Mentally, he changed brat to bitch, and yeah, there it was, especially when Roy's hand tightened around him, and Roy's cock pressed up between his cheeks, rocking slowly against him.
“Tell me,” Roy murmured.
“I told you, I don't want–“
“Tell me how you want it. Is this right? This going to make you go over?”
There were suddenly too many words on Jamie's tongue. He swallowed them back hard, and he groped for something, anything, that wouldn't make him sound fucking mental.
“Bite me,” he said impulsively. “Hard as you like, just–Ah!”
Roy's sharp teeth dug into the muscle of his shoulder, towards the back where his shirt would cover it, but fuck, it hurt, it hurt, Jamie's mind blanking out white at the fierce pressure and the brilliant pain. He couldn't breathe until Roy let go, and now Roy was pushing against him, harder and wet now as his hand stroked Jamie's cock under an almost punishing grip.
“Again?”
“Yes!”
This time he was ready for it, and he rode the pain up, let it spread from his shoulder to heat up his whole body, the cruelty of it even as he realized that that wasn't as hard as Roy could bite, not by a long shot. It didn't stop him from groaning at the pain, and his hand came down over Roy's, showing him exactly the rhythm and force he needed.
Roy's jaw relaxed for a moment, and then he bit him again and again, a cluster of bites all gathered up close to one another, marking him, and that was all it took. Jamie turned his face as much as he could, crying out into the pillow, spilling wet and hot into Roy's fist.
“Get on... get on top of me,” he said, almost begged. “Come on.”
With a hand pressed just underneath Jamie's bitten shoulder, Roy rolled him onto his stomach, coming over top him with an insistent weight and rutting against his rear. Jamie stifled a heated groan when Roy shoved his knees apart to get better access, and then Roy was licking the flesh he had savaged earlier.
“Oh, you're fucking good,” Roy moaned against his skin “You're so fucking good.”
Jamie buried his face in the pillow to stop up whatever was going to come out, and then he was taking it just as he imagined, Roy rocking against him, pinning him down and finally spending all over him with a muffled growl.
It took him a few moments to realize that Roy's weight hadn't fully crashed down on him even in their frenzy. Roy was still leaned up with one hand on the bed, and after a moment, he rolled over to the side, resting his palm on Jamie's sweaty back as their breathing evened out.
Jamie stayed silent, still resting on his belly as Roy rose from the bed. He was vaguely aware of the sound of water running, and then he yelped at the touch of something cool and wet on his lower back.
“Hey!”
“Shut up, you're a fucking state.”
Jamie stayed still, a strange tightness in his chest as Roy, dressed in a pair of sweatpants now, cleaned him. It felt good, and at the same time it was nearly too much. Too much what? He wasn't sure. Too much exposure, maybe, or too much attention, which was stupid, because he had huge crowds chanting his name on a regular basis, and he loved it. He would have said he loved attention, probably pathologically so, according to Dr. Fieldstone, but this was something else. This rose up inside him like the urge to steal or to fight, a pressure he couldn't shake.
Fortunately before it boiled over, Roy pulled back, handing him the towel so he could clean up the mess on his belly. When he pitched the towel in the hamper, he was feeling more himself, though it was a self that was weirdly tender, strangely new and raw.
“It's going to be dawn in another half hour,” Roy grumbled. “Barely any reason to go back to sleep.”
“I'm going to,” Jamie declared, and Roy shrugged.
“Do whatever you want.”
Instead of going back to bed, however, Jamie pulled on a pair of boxers and followed Roy downstairs. He watched from the kitchen island as Roy put the kettle on, puttering around like some old pensioner too early in the morning.
“I'll tell you, if you want,” Jamie said abruptly.
“Mph?”
“What I was thinking about. Earlier.”
Roy shrugged.
“Don't care.”
He should have felt relieved. Instead it stung, and it must have shown on his face because Roy sighed.
“You really want me to get all up in it at fuck in the morning? This is what we're fucking doing now?”
“Hey, I didn't say–“
“I do not give a fuck,” Roy said, enunciating clearly, “what you do in your head and where you need to go to get off, all right? Think whatever the fuck you want.”
“I don't need your permission,” Jamie said hotly, but Roy only glared at him.
“So stop acting like I have to give it! Fuck's sake! Am I fucking curious? Yes! Do I need to know? No! It's not hard. Tell me what you want to tell me. I'm a grown fucking man, and I can take it if you need to think about, I don't fucking know, feather dusters to get off.”
“Why would I need to think about–“
“I told you, I don't fucking know. Maybe there was a childhood incident. Maybe an ex did something exceptional with one. I don't know until you fucking tell me.”
Then, more quietly, “Wouldn't mind if you did.”
There was a lump in Jamie's throat, and self-consciously he rubbed the spot on his shoulder where Roy had bitten him. The skin there was still hot and swollen, but there was no blood, a souvenir and not a scar. He swallowed hard.
“Well, now I can't stop thinking of feather dusters.”
“Twat.” The kettle whistled. “Get your mug, I'm not your barista.”
Jamie pulled his mug from the cupboard. He still remembered how weird it'd felt when Keeley insisted that this one was his, a mug in Richmond colors painted carefully with his number on one side. It still made him feel a little queasy in a way he couldn't quite explain seeing it there next to Keeley's unicorn mug and Roy's mug with the weird melty black and green glaze, but he had gotten used to it.
As the steam rose up from his, he watched Roy reading the news on his phone and wondered what else he was going to get used to.