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Curly’s boots thudded against the floor startlingly loud as he paced back and forth, obnoxiously rattling against the metal floor. Jimmy was slouched on the pilot seat, his head in his hands. The hum of the ship was maddening. “Are you serious Jimmy?” Curly asked, his voice sharp and accusatory. He stopped his pacing in front Jimmy, suffocatingly close.
Jimmy’s head shot up. “I wasn’t fucking thinking, okay?!”, he yelled. “She said it was fine for fucks sake! You never told me shit about—”
“You’re supposed to clock that on your own!” Curly snapped. His voice boomed within the enclosure. He was close, so close to Jimmy, freaking him out a bit more than he’d ever admit. Heat radiated from him, the smell of his aftershave potent. “Do you want me to spoon feed you it all? Is that it?” he sneers. His face was contorted, ugly and red in rage. Selfishly, Curly was raging in panic, not worry. What would happen to him when this gets out? Anya wouldn’t stay quiet about this. He was the one who got Jimmy on this ship to begin with, the one who ensured the panel that Jimmy would be stellar. And now Jimmy has come up with this. Curly laughs to himself, low and humourless. The thought was so horrifying it became ridiculous. He smeared his face in disbelief, nothing but his own calloused hands to comfort him, and Jimmy felt bile trickling up his throat.
“It’s not even on me,” Jimmy mumbled, jaw clenched tight. “She—”
“It is on you, though” Curly cuts in, moving closer. His face was inches from Jimmy’s now, his voice dropping into a snarl. “‘Cause you couldn’t keep it in your fucking pants”
Jimmy felt his chest tightening, rage so fervid the nausea sprung in. His hands were clammy with sweat. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that”, he said, louder this time.
“Like what?” Curly laughed. “ Like the cuck you are?”. He stood looming above him, superior to Jimmy even now. Curly was loathsome in his own deliciousness like that. The inferiority Jimmy felt as he lolled beneath him crushed him. Curly continued to talk, hands on his hips like he’s taming a naughty dog, and Jimmy suddenly found it wildly unbearable.
That did it. Jimmy lunged at Curly, frenzied and shouting. His fist striked Curly’s face in one jarring punch that sent him stumbling back against the control panel. The cockpit went awfully silent, save for the hiss of static; monitor, engine? Curly looked stunned. His eyes and mouth wide open, and the blood trickled down from his nose. He looked at Jimmy astonished. And then his face stretched out into a smile. A mocking smile that angers Jimmy beyond belief, his teeth, in that moment, like a gyrating spider’s shanks. Curly laughed, laughed loudly and shamelessly, once again in disbelief.
“Oh yeah? Wanna lash out?” Curly chuckled, wiping the blood dripping down his cupid’s bow with the inside of his wrist. “Should’ve let you starve to death back down there. Lord knows why I brought you with me”.
“Fuck you!” he yelled back. Lord knows why Jimmy came with him. “You’re the one that brought me here!”. He stepped forward with his fist held high, ready to land another punch. Should’ve killed Curly, really should’ve killed him.
Curly raised his hand too, and managed to catch Jimmy’s next punch mid-air with an iron fist. He flung Jimmy’s arm to the side cruelly, sending him stumbling backward until he landed hard onto the chequered metal floor. Jimmy was in a morbid sterile hateful fit of hunger, of a desire to steep above the sense of lowliness Curly had been gagging him with. But Curly was already turning away, and once more he was better than Jimmy in every sense.
“Stay there,” Curly ordered, his voice subdued. He opened the door, never turning his back away from Jimmy. “I’ll let you outta here when you’re ready to talk to me like a man”.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Jimmy shouted, scrambling pathetically on the floor to push himself up, but the door had already locked with a heavy click. He lunged for it, pounding his fists helplessly against the metal. Good chance for him to take out his anger. Nothing will satisfy his fits of malaise but time.
Hours passed by. The ship was dark and quiet. The screen in the lobby had turned into a nightly landscape, cartoonishly blue with kisses of starlight. The illusion did lull Curly at times; made him feel like he was not in the midst of the vast vortex of space, but instead at work back on earth, a careless office worker maybe, about to leave to go home in an hour or so. But then he hears the hum of the monitor, or remembers the dead pixel, and once again he is back on an endless trip. The rest of the crew were fast asleep in their bunks. The silence filled the room delightfully, nothing breaking it but Curly’s steps causing the creak of the metal frame. Curly paced the corridors, hands shoved into his pockets. Pass by the lobby, the medbay, storage room, utility room, cargo hold. His brain eats itself, but his thoughts always looped back time again and again to Jimmy. Jimmy and the mess he’d made. Jimmy and Anya… hmm. Bastard.
Curly found himself by the cockpit, hovering over the door. He hesitated for a moment. His finger curling, fluttering near the keypad, and ultimately, he punched in the code. The door moved forward to open with a screeching, heavy drag, but stopped halfway, pressing against a body slumped on the floor.
Curly squeezed himself in through the narrow opening. The cockpit was as he left it, though the door looked vaguely blemished. He looked down at Jimmy, sprawled out cold after exhausting himself. His face was pressed stupidly against the floor, his body tense even in sleep. Curly’s lips twisted in disdain.
He nudged Jimmy with his boot. Once, twice. “Wake up”, he mumbled.
Jimmy finally stirred awake, looking around disoriented till his eyes landed on Curly looming above him. He began to push himself up, the mental cool against his palms. “‘The fuck you want” he grumbled. His voice was rough, his throat hoarse and raw from hollering. His face had pressed-in marks into his skin but red and blaring, patterns mimicking the metal of the floor.
Curly didn’t dignify him with an answer. He crouched down, grabbed Jimmy by the arm, and hauled him up roughly. Jimmy winced, and yanked his hand back the moment Curly let go, rubbing his wrist with a scowl. Curly held his gaze. His expression was entirely intangible in the dimmed lights.
Jimmy snorted. “What, you came here to stare?”, he laughed.
“Shut up,” Curly retorted. “I can look at you if that’s what I feel like”.
Jimmy scoffed at him.
“I’m here so we can talk about it, what you did”.
They’ve done enough talking, no? Jimmy wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, this time in his bed. “I’m done talking. And you sure as hell are too”, he scoffed again, walking towards the door. But Curly shifted his weight, blocking his way. “You’re gonna fucking listen, Jimmy” he said, and this time he sounded eerily calm, not as stirred up as he was hours ago.
Jimmy glared at him. “I won’t. I don’t owe you shit”.
Curly’s expression finally shifted, the silhouette of his face warping. “You owe me everything” he said, vaguely agitated now.
Jimmy felt the anger from before settle back in, nestle in his chest and bubble up his throat, flashing hot and wild once more. Curly noticed his gradually souring expression, and swiftly grabbed his face, fingers digging into his jaw. He sharply turned his head to face him. Jimmy’s muscles strained painfully at the back of his neck, making him grimace and groan.
“I’ll clean this mess up for you,” Curly began. His voice was low and warm, and admittedly, had never sounded as prepossessing. “I’ll pay Anya off, or something. Do whatever I have to, so your sorry ass can keep this job. But you’re gonna give me something in return.”
Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. He hated being in debt, and to Curly nonetheless. Surely, he could fix this himself. He can keep Anya quiet, he’ll make something up. He ain’t giving Curly anything. “What the hell are you talking about?” he breathed out.
Curly’s grip tightened, his gaze never wavering. “Let me have sex with you, just for tonight”, he said. So calmly did he say it. And just then, it was as if that great rush of anger had washed Jimmy clean, emptied him of hope, and, for the first time, the first, he laid his heart open to the benign reality of his vulnerability. Now that Curly looked him in the eyes and asked for sex, Jimmy was suddenly hit with the pained realisation that his lowliness wasn’t imagined, but as potent as he knew it. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” he yelled. His fear translated to anger briskly.
“C’mon man” Curly sighed, his voice dropping to whispering. He stepped closer to him. Curly could see Jimmy clear as day despite the darkness of the room. Unshaven stubble, greasy, overgrown hair, brown eyes he wants to smear with his fingertips, prominent jawline. Chapped lips that he still wants to kiss. Was he doing this out of jealousy? Jimmy smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks, musky and pungent, but Curly found himself lustful. “This will ruin you. You’ll never come back from this if I - or Anya for that matter - lets it slip. And you already have it difficult enough, don’t you, Jimmy?”, Curly smiled cruelly.
For a moment, Jimmy did nothing but stare ahead, his expression unidentifiable. Curly could hear the gears turning in that head of his, hoping that a slow realisation is setting in with a roaring thud. But Jimmy was thoughtless. Nothing to think about in his life but to kill Curly. Lord, how he hated the man.
Curly wasn’t waiting for an answer. He leaned in, hands reaching for Jimmy’s shoulders before his fingers dug in, painfully. He bent his head down slightly as he smashed his lips against Jimmy’s. It was a tasteless and hungry kiss from Curly. Jimmy’s eyes widened in startle, his hands flying up to shove Curly away, but Curly held him in place, his grip on his shoulders firm as his mouth pressed harder, fiercer. Jimmy clawed at Curly’s biceps with his nails, his hands travelling up and scratching, digging into his face in obtuse desperation.
Finally, Curly pulled back, breathless and smiling sickly sweet, watching as Jimmy stumbled backwards, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust. “I didn’t fucking agree yet!” Jimmy spat. Any consideration about doing this was tossed out of the window; he wanted out. Curly was freaking him out.
Curly just laughed, wiping the corners of his lips. His gaze never wandered away from Jimmy, as his hand went back to lock the door of the cockpit behind him. His face was a strange, unsettlingly calm expression.
“Come here,” Curly murmured. He stepped closer, now even closer than before. His hands reaching out, his fingers threading into Jimmy’s hair, tugging at it just enough to tilt his head up. “Don’t look at me like that” he mutters. It stung his little heart when Jimmy was so distasteful with him. What did Anya have that he didn’t? It don’t matter no more.
“Won’t have to if you get the fuck off me”, he snarled. He gave Curly a push on the chest, and felt discomfiture wash over him when Curly didn't so much as budge against the force.
Curly smiled mindlessly, humming to whatever Jimmy was saying. He tilted his head, eyes scanning Jimmy’s face in the dark. He don’t like the night much, makes him miss seeing the sneer on Jimmy’s face at times. In fact, he wants nothing more than to see his face clearly now, this close. “Can I kiss you again?” he whispered. Jimmy’s answer didn’t matter.
His jaw tightened, his line of sight flickering to the door, but he didn't move. “No,” Jimmy muttered.
Curly leaned in anyway, lips pressing onto his, softer this time. Jimmy’s hands hung at his sides, fists still clenched, his eyes fluttering shut slowly and reluctantly, as Curly’s mouth pressed harder. To fucking hell with Curly. He’s doing this to keep the job, yeah? He needs to overtake Curly, he’s gon’ be the pilot. Let Curly blow off some steam if that’s what he fucking wants, let him think he’s in authority. No, Jimmy knows he’s in charge here, and that’s truth enough.
Curly’s lips were admittedly soft, plush against his own, and tasted of saline and simultaneously saccharin. The kisses trailed down from his lips, down his chin and to his neck. He sucked hungrily, lovelessly, and Jimmy wanted to bite down into his shoulder. Curly’s hands trailed up and down, brushing his fingers across Jimmy’s cheekbones and jawline, and back down to his uniform, unbuttoning buttons one by one in a hurry, a sloppy manner. He was acting like a dog in heat, like a teenage boy having sex for the first time. Jimmy could only look dissociatively behind him, thinking about something else. Not even minutes in and he wanted it to end. He wanted to go to sleep, back in his bed this time, and forget Curly's idiocracy. Out of mind, out of sight.
He took off the sleeves for Jimmy. His hands crawled hungrily, disgustingly, under his undershirt and took it off. Jimmy raised his arms obediently, letting Curly strip him nude. Curly shoved his nose in the crane of his neck and breathed in. “You smell good,” he murmured, as he unbuttoned the rest of the jumpsuit.
“Haven’t showered in a week,” Jimmy responds bluntly. Sounds ridiculous, but he felt Curly’s grin grow wider against his collarbone. He chuckled against him. “Could’ve fooled me,” he said. He finally pulled his head away to look at Jimmy properly. “Let’s go lay down, eh?”, he whispered.
His hands were rough and all consuming, slithering down Jimmy’s shoulder to grab him by the forearm. He dragged him over to the pilot’s seat and pushed him down with a firm hand back on his chest. Jimmy stumbled into the seat, glaring up at Curly. Eyes doe brown and void-like. His dignity was dripping down the legs of the chair; this was the closest he’d ever get to the pilot seat.
Curly crawled over him, one knee pressed into the cushion between his legs, his weight pinning Jimmy back. “Too hot”, he sighed. Jimmy couldn’t hear Curly properly, he stuffed them ears with cotton. Curly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor.
Even in physique, Curly was superior to him; swollen biceps, rough, large hands, stomach so toned and yet still poked out with fat from eating lusciously. Fair skin, made his face look tanned in comparison. White-spun sun hair, stinging blue eyes, lookalikes of lapis stones. This is no beauty. Jimmy couldn’t see it, not to save his life, but he loathed how everyone else could.
Curly’s kisses continued. He was enjoying this a lot. No wonder, stuck in a ship for a year gets it out of you quickly. The kisses trailed down his neck, leaving snail trails of saliva that Jimmy itched to wipe off. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his pants. He cursed, unbuttoned his own instead before going back to Jimmy’s, who was staring too much downwards. Curly had been pitching a tent, and the cum was already leaking through his boxers.
Curly kissed him again as he made a second attempt at unbuttoning his uniform. The kissing was unbearable, too slimy, drool dripping down Jimmy’s chin. He’d never made out with anyone, not that he’d ever tell Curly that. But he could tell, the way Jimmy was a stiff kisser, biting at even intervals and not knowing what to do with a second set of teeth and tongues. But the inexperienced - ashamedly - aroused Curly even more.
The longer the kiss went on the heavier Jimmy’s breathing got. Partially due to lack of breathing scope, but mainly due to the vague fear of Curly’s arousal. Curly wouldn’t stop getting closer, his breath hot against his mouth, hands roaming crudely, fingers in his hair. And with that came his crotch, inching closer. He thought that maybe he could push Curly off, give an excuse, hell, maybe someone would start hollering for Curly now at midnight. Lord knows he didn’t want this, let Curly be the pilot. But Curly wouldn’t listen, not now and not then. Curly was mad like that, demasculinizing and admiring Jimmy in the same breath.
Curly’s cock was bigger, thicker. It freaked Jimmy out, and so he tried to distract Curly with the kiss, leaning forward, biting and eagerly engaging suddenly. But Curly’s rhythm wasn’t disturbed, barely noticed Jimmy’s pathetic attempts, really. He lifted his right leg slightly with ease, as if he was handling a marionette, and positioned himself with clammy hands. Jimmy’s nails dug into his shoulders, trembling faintly.
“Be quick, yeah?” Jimmy breathed out shakily. Curly had never seen him look so mortified. “We—”
“Shut the fuck up”, Curly snapped, cutting him off abruptly. He did his best to muffle the chuckle bubbling in his throat, seeing the scaredy face of Jimmy. In all years of knowing him, never had he seen Jimmy scared. Always sour, angry, or ire. About time someone put him in fear, and Curly was glad he had the honours.
Curly pushed in slowly, for his sake more than Jimmy’s. The further he pushed in the further his torso folded forward pathetically, mouth agape and gasping. His right hand gripped the back of the seat firmly, the other on Jimmy’s waist, his nails digging in till blood started prickling. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelmingly arousing. And never had he felt pleasure like this, truly.
“God, Jimmy,” he breathed out shakily. He didn’t know if it’s the agitation from earlier, or maybe the time span since he last had sex, back home on earth with his fiance, that had left him feeling so inexplicably sensitive. But never had he ever felt rapture like this. And it’s with Jimmy, out of all. He was whimpering and gasping, hovering on top of his friend, the heat enveloping his dick hot, almost too hot.
Jimmy on the other hand felt nothing but striking pain. His vision was kaleidoscoped, blotted with black and white light. He felt as if his anus was getting ripped open, the sting and stretch too much to handle, too painful. He trashed and shifted, his hands gripping Curly’s shoulders turning to an ape’s fist, clawing at him and pushing his torso back in feeble attempts. He surprised himself with the sudden inability to speak, and his words instead came out in choked-up breaths. Tears involuntarily started pricking at his eyes, the sting of Curly’s cock unbearably agonising, all together nightmarish.
“Agrh—!”, he cried out. “Curly, Curly—!”.
He sounded awfully desperate, madly terrified. His arms were shaking violently now, and the puny jerking of his hips in attempts of scooting away from Curly were laughable. “Please, man, I promise— Agrh!”, his wails intensified with every miniscule movement. “I’ll do it tomorrow! Fucking pull out, I’ll—”
The shouting suddenly muffled to choked gasps and splutters. Curly gripped Jimmy by the neck and squeezed. “Shut the fuck up!”, he yelled. Lord, the man was so dreadfully loud, talked too much. Can’t he let Curly enjoy this? Jimmy’s eyes widened in horror, as he gasped for air, his breath turning into wheezing. Curly was unbelievably ignorant to his own strength. Jimmy clawed at his forearm in distress. His nails were unclipped and long, and the scratching began to tear at some skin, and yet Curly remained ignorant to it all. The pleasure made him impenetrable. Nothing Jimmy said or did could he notice, his own moans and whimpers clogging his ears. He started moving, thrusting at a maddeningly quick pace.
“Please”, he wheezed. “Please, later, later” he gasped. Curly finally locked eyes with him, grounded himself, realised what he was doing, but didn't slow down. He smiled mockingly at Jimmy and hummed at his stupid promise. “Be quiet,” he muttered. “Stay still, Jimmy”.
The lack of air started to get to him. He was utterly mute, his vision worsening. He may have blacked out for seconds upon seconds. Jimmy however kept on punching weakly at Curly with his trembling fists, gasping incoherent blabber, and biting his hand hysterically. Sobbing and biting. Curly’s hold on his neck only faltered as his pace quickened and his moans grew louder, more desperate; he was so close, so soon.
“Come here, let me kiss you”, Curly gasped. His whining and moaning had gotten louder and less controlled. Jimmy on the other hand had quieted down all together, gagging on air and spit, his head lolling back as his breath came hatched. His face was no longer scrunched up in a detestable expression, but instead looked vacant and bare. Curly felt a pang of fondness seeing Jimmy like this. It made him feel he was wrong about Jimmy, he was a nice man, look at him helping Curly out. He’s agreeable. Curly leaded forward to kiss him, gently this time. He licked and pecked at his lips, mumbling praise against Jimmy’s lips as he smiled sweetly.
Curly felt that he was close. He straightened his back to quicken his pace once more, and his head hung back, his mouth gaping and drooling. He repeatedly whined Jimmy’s name, “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy”, drawing out sharp breaths between his teeth. He sounded out of it and desperate. The thrusting had gotten easier, now that he’s slick and morphed. When he finally cums, he spills into Jimmy with a loud gasp. He holds his hips still, burying himself deep, gasping for air from the acute sensitivity. He sniffles pathetically, still out of touch with reality, so enveloped by the pleasure of humiliating his friend and finally getting a release after months.
The white, viscous liquid dripped from between his legs, pooling at the plush seat beneath. He could finally breathe again, but stark bruises were already starting to form at his neck. Curly still hadn’t pulled out. Instead, he leaned down once again when his breathing had stabilised and the high had passed. Jimmy looked like he had passed out, with lids half hanging and staring vacantly.
“Jimmy”, Curly whispered. He leaned in very close, and Jimmy could feel his warm breath against his jaw, but he couldn't seem to move his body. “Jimmy? Don’t fall asleep” Curly whispered again, before kissing his lips softly. What’s with him? He was cursing him out minutes ago.
He leaned back, sat up to take a proper look at his friend beneath him. Curly chuckled to himself. He leaned back in, his hand wrapping behind Jimmy’s neck, and pulled him in for a last, tasteful kiss. He made out with the unconscious body, sticking his tongue in and sucking on his wettening lips. Jimmy was nice like this, quiet and loving.
And then suddenly, a fist hits him from under his chin. The punch sent Curly’s head flying backwards, his teeth shattering painfully against each other, and he could already taste the metallic blood pooling inside his mouth. The punch was admittedly weak, but it’s more so the shock than anything.
It’s Jimmy, naturally. He stared at Curly intensely, as he attempted to shakily push himself up into a sitting position, his arms failing him once, twice. His entire body for that matter was trembling violently. His eyes were wide and glossy, like a frightened, abused dog. He wiped his chin with the palm of his hand frantically, still gawking at Curly. He tried to scoot back, but there was no space for it. When Curly recovered from the punch he looked back at Jimmy, wiping the blood dripping down the corners of his mouth. He smiled sheepishly, like a kid caught red handed.
“Sorry” he chuckled, “thought you were asleep”. Ridiculous excuse, Jimmy would’ve laughed at it if it wasn’t for his throat closing up at the thought of what just happened. Curly felt more awkward than anything. Jimmy continued to stare at him with frenzied eyes, breathing heavily, and so Curly smiled at him warmly to calm him down.
“Come here” he whispered sweetly. He leaned his hand forward to cup Jimmy’s face, wanting to brush his thumb in calming spirals at his cheek. But Jimmy flinched back, his angry expression settling back into his face. His nose scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed intensely, with a snarl that showed his fang.
“I’m goin’ back to bed,” he blurted, but his eyes made it seem like he was asking for permission. Curly’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Jimmy’s gaze hasn’t faltered since he punched Curly. Umber and smoothly glossy. But Curly wasn’t satisfied yet. What’s with Jimmy now, why does he look so cross? He seemed content a minute ago. He doesn't want this to end like this. He wants Jimmy to leave happy.
“No, let’s stay here”, he smiled. “The chair is comfy, and it’s wide enough for the two of us”. Jimmy doesn’t like the idea, lord knows he hates it. What’s with Curly, why does he look so sickeningly giddy? When JImmy doesn’t say anything Curly’s smile widens, and he pulls Jimmy down with him to lay down. The cum, sticky and messy, smears at Curly’s leg but he manages to ignore it, too cheerful at the thought of tonight.