Chapter Text
After a few months on the road, something in Jack and Jerry's dynamic shifts almost imperceptibly, unnoticeable from an outsider's perspective (minus Rosa, who notices with interest). Jerry’s reassuring hugs last a bit longer, the light touches on Jack's arms, legs, shoulders, and sometimes face evolve from sweet and consoling to outright touchy-feely.
Jack finds himself leaning into it, and then pulling back.
A recent encounter with a very pushy otherworldly pyramid-scheme selling entity disguised as an old friend from Jack's childhood with whom he’d completely lost touch had left him angry. It was actually far from the first time a stranger had tried to get him to buy into an MLM, but he had precious few friends at that age, and the conversation had felt so real at first. He’d been completely consumed by his irritation, embarrassed about being tricked, felt he should have known. He'd redeemed himself by managing to knock the guy (creature?) out cold, adrenaline from having done so with his bare hands just thrumming under his skin, satisfaction radiating from him. It's the first time in a long long time that he's bested someone without using a weapon, and it felt good.
When Jerry sees him balling his fists about it in the passenger's seat as they drive away, he puts his hand on his thigh and squeezes. And then leaves it there.
"That was awesome! Clearly, you're getting even stronger."
Right away, the lingering touch gives Jack flashbacks to the evening they shared on Jerry’s bus now over a year ago, memories that are more easily unlocked by sensation rather than thought alone.
"Yeah. Felt good."
"Bet it did. Always good to be able to defend yourself with your own two fists! Plus, that guy had some audacity,” Jerry says with an air of admiration, but Jack’s distracted by the thumb rubbing down on his leg, his pinky finger stretching, reaching –
"Hands on the wheel," he tells him plainly.
Jerry does as he's told without hesitation, then jabs playfully, "Coming from the guy who used to read while he drove."
"I would park on the shoulder!"
“Oh, so…” Jerry says, stealing a glance at him and wearing that stupid grin. “We can keep going if I pull over?”
Et cetera – other instances of lingering looks and latent attraction that were best left alone in light of more pressing circumstances, best left in the moment.
The most obvious change, though, would have to be the sexting. They're barely ever not in one another's vicinity these days, but that doesn't stop Jerry from sending Jack the most lewd messages with little pretext. Jerry has always sent him weird shit, but now? Sometimes they're situational jokes, sometimes it's clear he's just horny as hell. Almost every time, though, Jack's close enough by to cast him a half-assed wary look over the edge of his phone. They’re borderline too much, but it’s like Jerry knows exactly where to draw the line.
Exactly how to get Jack thinking about it, about him, and to not feel overwhelmed but instead curious...intrigued wouldn’t be inaccurate…
The three of them have stopped at a service area complete with a travel station and a region-specific fast food restaurant. This gas station has showers, which had been the main draw. Basking in the glow of being freshly bathed, they all sit in a booth together in the corner of the restaurant, snacking and discussing how the rest of the week should pan out.
Rosa’s talking about how much they're saving on time by driving through more nights, that they'll probably be one day early to their next endeavor – an extra day to settle in or even sight-see.
And Jack had been attentive, sure, even joining her in the mental miles-math. The conversation, the plan, where they are, even, all exits his mind stage left, though, when Jerry’s hand begins to wander again, the action hidden underneath the table.
He puts up with it for a bit, but then all at once it’s the final straw.
Jack would call it lost time with how quickly the scene around them changes, except he knows exactly what he’s doing, still hears the disbelief in Rosa’s voice at how indiscreet they’re being – something she’d told them in a loud whisper as they stumbled off. He’s pushing Jerry up against the far wall of the handicap stall in the men’s room, kissing him within an inch of his life, just enough wherewithal to have locked the stall behind them.
“Yes,” Jerry celebrates, relieved laughter in his voice. “This is exactly what I was going for!”
“Me all riled up, cornering you in a dirty gas station bathroom?”
Jerry looks him dead in the eye and says, “I’ve had that dream for years, man.”
Jack puffs out a breath, shakes his head, and then lets Jerry move him up against the other wall. He lackadaisically pins Jack by his forearms, arms raised, more like he wants to crowd his space than make him feel stuck in what he just started.
“Can tell you’re pent up again,” he breathes, “wanted you to take it out on me.” Then, while he searches his eyes, continues, “Tell me what you like, Jack.”
All of it, surprisingly enough. But a real answer? “I like…”
And then Jack looks down at his mouth, kisses him again. It’s been a minute since either of them shaved, and the friction from their competing stubble is spiky and scratchy and grounding. The action gives Jack time to think, sure, but honestly? He finds it hard to resist kissing him when they’re this close, when the pretense has been broken, where he can get away with that which his own nerves allow. The kiss is indulgent and syrupy, the world now dull around him.
“I like when you...flood my senses,” he admits.
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“Like...the things you do with your mouth?” He’s trying so hard. “And w-when you touch me, and I can almost feel what you’re thinking. It’s so distracting. In a...good way?”
Jerry hums, leaning in closer, pressing their cheeks together. “You like the way I want you?”
“Everybody wants to feel wanted,” he reasons, an uncontrolled chill briefly shaking him up.
Jerry straightens just enough to level him a thoughtful gaze. After a beat of just holding Jack’s attention, he moves his hands from his forearms to his hips, right away under his shirt, and continues to hold him there. Then he asks, "You remember the first time I jerked you off?"
Incredulity bleeds into the tacit desire that’s wearing Jack’s face. A lot of that evening is a blur to him now; Jack was so hypersensitive that every varying, intimate touch was absolutely huge in his mind, took so much for his body to process, but the soft impression remains – Jerry's care and coaxing, Rosa's later gentleness. Not to mention this isn't the first time Jerry's brought it up since. "How could I forget?"
"That's right." Jerry smiles, and something about the way he says it – a certain fondness, Jack realizes – sends heat straight to his gut. "I can't forget the way you totally gave yourself over to the feeling, I...keep thinking..."
"What?"
"Ever put any thought towards bottoming?"
"No, I...can't say that I have."
"I think I could make you feel real good,” Jerry murmurs in one quick breath, fully in his space. “God, if I could just fuck you, it'd beat like every wet dream I've ever had. It’d just kill me to watch you squirm like you were, wrapped tight around me instead. How do you feel about that?"
Jack’s brain did a soft reboot. Nobody had ever come close to talking to him like that before, nor was it anything like the few erotica scenes he’s encountered over his many reads. Not that that would help, not with Jerry.
He swallows, willing his body to stay under control. “Still not sure about taking it up the ass, to be honest. There’s a lot of stuff I haven’t even…”
He’s never even seen another guy’s dick before, let alone done anything with one. He often forgets, even, that he has these bisexual tendencies, what with how late in life he feels they’ve come upon him. Especially considering their almost implacable and ill-defined nature.
“Don’t even worry about it! I was just making a point. Though, it feels pretty awesome when you’re into it, if you were wondering,” Jerry says. “Of course, that’d be the only way.”
He doesn’t press it after that. He keeps feeling Jack up, who leans into it, encouraging the way Jerry bends in to start making those devastating marks on him again. Open-mouthed kisses turn into full, hot licks down to his collarbone, up to where his shoulder meets his neck, evolving back into sucks so that he’s not just soaking Jack wet with his saliva.
“Ah, shit,” Jack moans.
Jerry’s not subtle about his own arousal, either, pressing himself up against him, pouring something viscous and white-hot over Jack’s overrun mind. He hasn’t been this physically forward before, but Jack supposes he might’ve set a certain tone when he drug him in here in a manner that could only be described as desperate.
Not to mention public.
He works some more breathy noises out of Jack with a few fluid hip rolls, feeling things out more than chasing the high.
“H-Hey,” Jack feels himself speaking, voice barely there. “Tell me about it?” His hands itch to touch, too, but he doesn’t know where, doesn’t know what’s okay, and he finds himself just lying his hands on Jerry’s shoulders.
“About what, baby?”
Jack shudders, twitches more trying to stifle it. Wait, what was he asking about?
The main door opens and closes, and they both stand stark still the whole duration of time it takes for the man to pee and leave, staring at the ceiling. Bigots could be an issue around here, sure, not one that they couldn’t handle, but nobody of any sexuality deserves to walk into a restroom for a piss and hear two idiots going at it like rabbits.
“This is kind of gross,” Jerry says after the door shuts behind the guy, giving the space a cursory look, eyes falling non-subtly on the toilet right next to them. Then, after cradling Jack’s face and leaning back in, “We’ll leave if someone comes in to take a shit.”
He wants to tell him that they can just go back to the van, that the parking lot’s basically empty, no one would notice, and then they could maybe rope Rosa in, too. That yeah, he brought Jerry in here, but they could totally leave –
Then one of Jerry’s hands is flat between them, kneading Jack through the front of his pants, the other steadying himself on the wall behind them.
“Better get this show on the road, huh?”
“Oh, uh,” Jack tries. “Uh, yeah.”
“Now,” Jerry starts, his voice in that weird low-range that gives Jack full-body goosebumps instantaneously. “Did you want to hear about bottoming in general?” He’s speaking directly into his ear now, breath hot. “Or how good I think you’d be at it?”
Jack bends his head back, thoughts swimming, drowning. The wall is cool on the back of his scalp. Oh, right. “The...latter.”
Jerry chuckles through a heavy breath, clearly excited. “Shit yeah. Hold on a sec, let’s just get us –”
Then he’s undoing both of their pants, working open his own button and fly with the urgency of someone who’s about to piss themselves, then handling Jack’s like he's unwrapping a fragile gift.
He pulls them both out of their boxers with a hand each, but uses just his right to pull them together.
“Thaaat’s better,” Jerry intones like he’d just lowered himself into a perfectly warm hot tub. He pumps them together slowly, deliberately, watching Jack’s face, unoccupied hand landing on his side, up near his ribs.
Meanwhile, the unfamiliar sensation sends one of Jack’s hands shooting to a nearby railing for balance, the other twisting in Jerry’s shirt. His mouth is open, sweat beading all over, and he knows whatever he thought was going to happen when he pulled Jerry in here, this was better.
“We’d start slow, set you up super comfy in a real bed somewhere, and I’d carefully, methodically finger you open,” Jerry starts just above a whisper, dramatic spaces following the adjectives and adverbs. “Doesn’t sound amazing to the uninitiated – fingers in the ass – but trust me, I’m a pro. I’d find your sweet spot so quick you wouldn’t even notice the stretch.”
“O-Okay?”
“I’d get you all fucked out before we even started,” he says, clearly already lost in the fantasy. “But not oversensitive! You’d be...mmn, you’d be rock hard and leaking everywhere like you do, like you are now, and you might even be begging a little…”
Jack’s not sure about that – “Nh-huh…sure...” – but his entire body is lighting up at his words, his tone, burning alive.
Then, in the actual moment, Jerry does something Jack doesn’t expect. He doesn’t know when the hand that isn’t working them both into panting messes left his side, but he realizes that for a minute now Jerry’s been holding his face like he’s keen to do, and now his thumb’s tracing his bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it plap back into place before casually sliding his middle and index finger slowly into his mouth.
Jack, green eyes dark under heavy eyelids, wraps his lips around them.
Jerry gives a low groan at the sight of him, at him allowing it, losing his rhythm for a second. Then, recomposing himself, he continues, “I’d push into you like that. Easy does it, watching your face to see how you’re taking it. I keep getting caught up in this part because man, I think you’d take it real well.”
Jack hums, flicks an eyebrow up at him as if to say ‘Yeah?’
Jerry pushes out an affected huff, nodding emphatically at him. He might not even be conscious of it, but he’s begun casually pistoning those two fingers, pushing along the wet surface of Jack’s tongue. “I’d roll in slow,” he goes on, voice deep now. “Not ‘cause I don’t think you could handle fast, but ‘cause I’d be taking you in,” he explains, “just as you’d be taking in me. Fuck,” he gasps, speeding up the hand on their cocks.
Meanwhile, Jack’s having a little trouble getting his breath truly regulated what with his mouth occupied; his air’s coming out loud and rapid through his nose, the loudest thing in the room aside from the wet shlick of their dicks rubbing together in Jerry’s ever-quickening hand.
Jerry’s rolling his lower body in full now, fingers stationary in Jack’s mouth, if pressing down a bit hard onto his tongue. His hips stutter, fucking into his own fist, the both of them pulsing up against one another. He’s wholly within his own scene now. “I’d get you used to me, then I’d bend you in and fuck you like I’m trying to put a baby in you.”
Jack lifts a shaky hand to pull Jerry’s from his mouth, and Jerry leans back more to meet his eye. “You can’t – what does that even mean?”
“Sh – shh,” he coaxes breathlessly, sliding those fingers right back in, rapt on the action. His face is pink, smile dopey as he taps their foreheads together and continues, “I’d make you cum first – ‘cause you deserve it, but also ‘cause I need to feel you come apart on my cock,” he starts, as though that’s obvious. “But before that, I’d dip into you hard and rough, never pulling out too far, and when I’d cum, I’d cum so deep inside you that you’d taste it in your mouth.”
Jack’s eyebrows pinch together, heart pounding hard. “Oh – o–ay,” he slurs, consonant lost to the intrusion. He tries to curse, too, when Jerry’s hand tightens around them, but it’s just more of a grunt. His eyes roll back for this series of concentrated strokes, concentrated pleasure, and privately, he’s lost in the fantasy with him.
“You close, too?”
“Uh – uh-huh –”
Something makes Jerry slow down just a tad, just enough to break the momentum, and if Jack didn’t know any better, he’d say Jerry got distracted by the picture Jack must make right now. He tries to say ‘don’t stop’, eyes now fixed, cloudy but serious, but it comes out phonetically like ‘own ah’.
“Never, no – please. Psh, I’ve got you,” Jerry whispers – devolves – matching his gaze. “Please cum on my cock, Jack. Oh god, I need it –”
Jack’s eyes widen as something inside him snaps spectacularly, that dose of Jerry’s odd-but-endearing dirty talk doing him in so quickly it was like activating a sleeper agent. His eyes squeeze shut, teeth pressing down on Jerry’s fingers as he finishes all over them both. Jerry’s stroking at just their tips now, collecting his spend before pushing it down over their nuzzled erections.
“So fucking hot,” he moans indulgently, a little disbelief in his tone, focused now on himself as Jack ebbs away from his peak. He’s jerking off fast, rushed and desperate and just a centimeter from Jack’s dick, Jack’s wet cum all over him. “Your face, oh fuck…”
Then Jack feels the first of many hot, sticky splashes of Jerry’s cum landing on his skin – on his hip, his lower stomach, his own twitching dick. It feels really weird, but the expression of pure bliss on his friend’s face makes it totally worth it – not that he thinks he could express as much.
After they catch their breath, Jerry reaffirms that the immediate coast is clear, zips up his pants even over the mess, and then makes his way to the sink alone. He dampens handfuls of paper towels and then darts back into the stall with them, locks it, pulls his pants back down, and then hands some towels to Jack. They clean themselves up in silence, neither able to wipe the small smiles from their faces.
When they finally make their way back out, Rosa is nearby – nearly as pink as they are, tapping her foot. “I reserved two more showers. They’re almost ready.”
“Thanks, Rosa!” Jerry says earnestly.
She makes sure no one else is in earshot, and then continues in her most emphatic whisper, “And we’re all sleeping together tonight!” She’s wearing a variant of her shame-inducing face, but her heart’s not all the way in it. “You guys owe me!”
Jack feels soft inside, knowing he and Jerry will more than make it up to her.