Work Text:
Jeremy’s hands are shaking as he fumbles with the car keys. He is dizzy when he finally climbs inside, and it takes him a minute to realize that it's because he's hyperventilating. There is static in his ears and spots in his vision, or maybe that's the tears, he doesn't know. When he closes his eyes he can see Jean pulling away from him, screaming ‘Don't touch me’.
He presses the balls of his hands to his eyes as hard as he can and the pain finally helps him focus on his breathing. He counts five seconds as he inhales and ten as he exhales, lungs burning. Having left the house in sleep shorts and a tank top, he shouldn't be cold, the air during the night in California warm and stuffy, but he's shivering.
He doesn't know how long he stays in the car, trying to calm himself down, but when he can finally take a full breath without sobbing on the exhale, he opens his eyes and sees the dawn. He has to think, but thoughts scatter around as he looks up at the house, so he starts the car and backs out of the driveway, noticing absent-mindedly that Laila’s car is still not there.
He chooses the long way to the court, but it still only takes him ten minutes to arrive there. It's too early for it to be open, so Jeremy parks as close to the gate as he can, and climbs into the backseat to lie down. Closing his eyes again only brings the image of Jean flinching away from him, so he stares at the roof of the car instead.
He tries to think objectively about their earlier interaction, but everything inside is screaming that he fucked up. Colossally. He shouldn't have let himself get so wrapped up in Jean, that he completely forgot about staying away. Close enough to get Jean off, but far enough so that Jean didn't feel uncomfortable or forced to deal with Jeremy’s pleasure. It wasn't supposed to be about Jeremy's pleasure.
He was meant to remember that, at all times, but he got lost in Jean, and - oh god, how embarrassing - came practically untouched in his pants. He never wanted that to happen, tried so hard to focus on helping Jean enjoy himself, without any pressure to reciprocate. And now, not only did he basically use Jean's body to get off on, he didn't fucking ask permission to do that. Jean never consented to being an instrument in Jeremy’s pleasure, because Jeremy never gave him a chance to.
For a second, right after he came and Jean followed, he thought it might be okay. Guilt flooded through Jeremy, but Jean's groan, the shivers running though his lean frame, it all made Jeremy think Jean may have enjoyed it too. Until the moment Jean froze under him, leaning back. Jeremy scrambled to get off, retreating to the bathroom to give Jean some space to assess how he was feeling.
He shouldn't’ve put Jean in a place where that was necessary in the first place.
He's an idiot. A fucking idiot. Way to destroy something good again, Jeremy, his sister's voice whispers at the back of his mind. Shut up! At least the imaginary Jeremy has the guts to tell her that. In fact, imaginary Jeremy is much better than real Jeremy, because imaginary Jeremy never caused Jean to have nightmares. Never triggered Jean and made him dream about sexual assault, about hurting someone like that. Maybe he should move to Alaska and let imaginary Jeremy live out his happily ever after here in his stead. Oh, well. If wishes were fishes and all that jazz.
The only thing he can do now is stay away from Jean, let him figure out how he's feeling after what happened. Let him calm down after the nightmare in the safety of his room, alone.
And apologize. He definitely needs to apologize to Jean and pray to all gods that Jean forgives him. That they can at least go back to being friends after that fiasco. Or, maybe they can move past that and try again. It's unfathomable, how much Jeremy wants to be able to touch Jean again, to kiss him, to keep him safe. If they never have sex again, than so be it. Jeremy would give that up to be allowed to hold Jean at night and keep his demons away.
By the time he sees Coach Rhemann's car pull up to the gate, he's a ball of anxiety, his insides twisting and churning. He needs an outlet, needs to focus his energy on something other than overthinking his earlier interaction with Jean, dissecting his own movements and trying to figure out what he could have done differently. If Coach is surprised to see him, he doesn't say anything. He lets Jeremy choose whether to share his reasons or not.
“Let's talk strategy for the year,” Jeremy says and it's enough for the coach. He gestures for Jeremy to follow and they enter the stadium, falling easily into the conversation.
---
It's a few hours later that he reaches for his phone to check the time and sees texts from thirty minutes ago.
from Cat:
where did the two of you go so early in the morning on a weekend?
can you get groceries on the way back? we're low on veggies
to Cat:
wym the two of us? Jean isn’t home?
from Cat:
erm no? is he not w you?
Jeremy abandons the text thread and calls her.
“How long ago did you and Laila get home?” His breaths are getting shaky and Coach Rhemann throws him a questioning look. Jeremy turns away and focuses on Cat's answer.
“Like half an hour ago? We noticed your bedroom was open and empty, so we figured you and Jean went somewhere together. You didn't?” Cat's tone is confused, but all Jeremy can think about is Jean being somewhere not at home and alone. He knows the conversation with Cat and Laila was a long time coming but he doesn't want to have it within the earshot of his coach. As he turns to excuse himself, he sees the man wave at him in dismissal and resume the tape they've been analyzing. He mumbles ‘sorry coach’ and hurries to leave. Cat connects the dots quickly enough. “You're at the court? Without Jean?”
The only reason he walks the corridors towards the exit and not runs is the need to explain things to Cat, and he's starting to hyperventilate enough without wasting breath on running.
“Something happened last night. My fault entirely, but he got triggered and had a nightmare about something… Something bad, related to his past, kind of…” He's rambling and he knows it, so he tries to get to the point. “Anyway, I left to give Jean some space. Drove to the court and waited for Coach to show up and we worked on strategy. I thought Jean would be at home when you got there!” There’s panic in his voice and he tries to tamp it down, but his mind is running a mile a minute.
Why would Jean leave? He was in the apartment alone, did he need more space? Did he want to get away from the room where Jeremy touched him?
“Knock it off, Knox!” His friend’s harsh tone makes him flinch, or maybe it's his thoughts, he doesn't know. He tries to focus on Cat's voice instead. “I don't have time to deal with whatever you think you've done. How long ago did you leave?”
“I don't know. I drove off at dawn, but I sat in the car for a while before that. He didn't leave the house while I was there, I would've noticed, I think…” He trails off, thinking back to his breakdown and doubts his own words. He might have not noticed Jean leave, actually. The idea of Jean walking away past him without being noticed, because Jeremy was bawling his eyes out, makes bile rise in his throat and he leans on the side of his car as he reaches it, coughing.
“For fuck's sake, Jeremy. Take a breath, calm down. We don't have time for freaking out right now,” she says in an exasperated tone, and Jeremy faintly hears Laila's voice in the background. Cat swears under her breath and evens out her voice as she continues. “Laila said Jean’s phone is on his bedside table, so no point calling him. Let's focus on where he could be.”
“He's never really gone anywhere alone, Cat! I've no idea where he is. And it's my fault.” His voice breaks at the last word and there's something wet and salty on his lips. He realizes it's tears and brings his hands up to wipe them away. Cat is right, there is no time for that right now. He needs to put Jean first. Before Cat can say anything else, Jeremy switches his brain to problem solving mode. “I'll call Kevin. He might have an idea where Jean would have gone if left to his own devices.”
Cat accepts it and offers an idea of her own, “I'll drive around the neighborhood. He might just be wandering aimlessly. Laila will text the group chat to see if anyone heard anything from Jean, and she'll stay at home in case he comes back.” she pauses, making her voice softer. “We’ll find him, Jer.”
She hangs up and Jeremy has to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he can do anything else. He tries so hard to believe her but some of Jean’s words keep coming back to him and he realizes how wrong he actually was.
Ravens aren't meant to be alone. It is too quiet with just me.
And Kevin's words come back too. About the Raven pack mentality, how difficult it still is for Kevin to be alone, and it's been years since he left the Nest. For Jean it's been a few months. Jeremy is such a fucking idiot, what was he thinking leaving Jean alone in the apartment to stew in his own dark thoughts? You were thinking of running away, like you always do, his sister's voice says in his head. Before he can start spiraling, he focuses on something else.
Kevin.
Kevin might know where Jean is. Kevin might at least have an idea.
They haven't talked since Jeremy yelled at him those few days ago, but Kevin texted later that same night. His message made something uncomfortable twist in Jeremy. Anger, yes, but guilt too.
If you'd been raised like we were, you'd also believe everything Riko said. For your own sake.
Setting those memories aside, he unlocks his phone, and takes a deep breath, dialing Kevin's number. It rings out, so he dials again. Dread is starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't know what he's terrified of, but the feeling just increases with each second Kevin isn't answering. Just when he's about to hang up, he hears a voice on the other end of the line.
“You might not be aware, but Kevin usually sleeps until noon on Saturday. It's not enough to cure his hangover but it helps with his mood if no one wakes him up earlier than that.”
It takes Jeremy a moment to place him, but the sarcasm seeping out of every word gives the owner of the voice away.
“Neil,” he breathes out.
“Why are you calling Kevin, Jeremy? To accuse him of being a spineless bitch again? Don't worry, Andrew does it on the regular.”
Jeremy doesn't know if he should ask, if Neil would know. But then he remembers that Neil spent last year's Christmas break at the Nest and came back with a number on his cheek. That, from what Kevin told him, Neil helped renegotiate Jean’s contract with the Ravens. That Neil came to visit Jean a few weeks ago. He could know Jean well enough - the side that Jeremy isn't allowed to see.
“It's Jean. He's…” Jeremy has to take a breath, the word gone on the tip of his tongue. “We don't know where he is. He left without his phone.”
Neil is silent for a while, but the tone of his voice when he finally speaks sends chills down Jeremy’s spine.
“What did you do?” He doesn't let Jeremy answer before continuing. “Jean wouldn't have gone somewhere alone if he had a choice.”
“I left first,” Jeremy admits, a pang of guilt going through his chest. “I did something I'm not proud of, and it triggered him. He had a nightmare and I left to give him space. I don't know where he is. Do you know where he could've gone?”
Jeremy's tone is pleading, but Neil ignores the question altogether. Every word out of his mouth is slow and measured as he asks again, “What did you do, Jeremy?” He doesn't let Jeremy put in a word, continuing in that low and threatening tone. “He's been hurt by other men, Jeremy. I made sure they'd never touch him again. It would be a real pity for the Trojans to lose their Captain in his last year at University, wouldn't it?”
Jeremy chokes on his breath, the gravity of Neil's words sucking all air out of his lungs. He loses his grip on the phone and it drops down onto the asphalt. He doesn't know what to think, but the implications of what he just heard twist his insides in terror. Riko. The Ravens. Grayson. The murky circumstances surrounding their deaths come back to him and his hands shake as he leans to pick the phone up, but something catches his eye in the periphery. There's a tall figure at the farthest edge of the parking lot, a man standing still. Jeremy’s vision is far from perfect, but he doesn't need glasses to know who it is. The silhouette, the stillness of his frame - it gives him away.
Jean.
Jeremy's body rakes a while to catch up to his brain, but he starts running the moment he feels his limbs again. Jean doesn't move from his spot and Jeremy skitters to a stop right in front of him. He immediately realizes he's far too close, so he takes a few steps back, chest heaving as he catches his breath.
“Jean,” it's more air than sound, but it makes Jean focus his eyes on Jeremy's face. Jeremy looks back, eyes traveling over his features, trying to find something, anything. Jean's face is blank, devoid of all emotion, and something inside Jeremy’s chest rips open at the sight. “Jean, I’m so sorry.”
Jean's eyes slide past him, over his shoulder, and fix on the car. He finally moves, stepping around Jeremy and setting off in that direction. Jeremy stands rooted to the spot, watching him pick up the phone, barely glance at the screen, and circle round the car to get into the passenger seat. The door snapping shut sets Jeremy into motion and he runs back to the car.
He opens the door and freezes outside. Jean is most likely okay with him getting in, he reasons with himself, but as the night's events flash in his mind, he finds himself asking anyway.
“Is it okay if I get in the car?”
Jean's eyes move towards him, and stare right through, unimpressed. He turns away and Jeremy thinks he won't get an answer, until Jean says, “I want to go home.”
As Jeremy gets inside, Jean reaches out Jeremy's phone that he's still holding. Their fingers touch briefly as Jeremy grabs it, and he doesn't miss the way Jean immediately rips his hand away from the contact. He can feel his heart breaking in his chest and every breath hurts like the bloody shards have found their way into his lungs.
He wills his hands not to tremble as he shoots a quick text to Laila.
I'm driving him home. Call Cat.
The drive is silent, the atmosphere tense between them, but Jeremy can't speak in fear of breaking down in the middle of the road. He steals glances at Jean who sits still as a statue, staring straight ahead. The only thing Jeremy can focus on is evening out his own breathing and clearing his head of the remnants of his conversation with Neil Josten. This is something to lose his shit over another day. Right now he has to get Jean home and get him to talk. They have to talk.
That thought fuels him the rest of the short drive to the house, and he sees Laila and Cat in the driveway, waiting for them. Jean is out of the car the moment it stops, taking long steps towards the door as Jeremy scrambles to get out as well. He flinches at the same time Jean does, when Cat's hand shoots out to grab Jean’s arm. He's about to say something, ask her to get her hand off, but Jean doesn't jerk away. He steps closer to her, as she says something Jeremy can't hear. Jeremy moves to approach them, but stops short, seeing Laila shake her hear, mothing wait.
He leans against the side of the car and closes his eyes. In for five counts, out for ten. He does breathing exercises, until he feels a firm hand on his. His eyes open and meet Cat's.
“You two need to talk. Sort out your bullshit, apologize, or whatever it takes. You have twenty minutes, while we go get the groceries,” her tone leaves no room for argument, and she turns away, heading for her bike.
Laila walks up to him after her, saying in a softer voice, “I don't really know what happened between you two, but I trust you two to find a way to deal with it. Neither of you deserves the pain you're both feeling.”
She leans forward to place a soft kiss to his cheek, and turns to follow Cat to the bike, hopping on and clasping the helmet quickly, before they take off.
Jeremy glances at Jean and sees him follow the girls’ departure intently, and then turn on his heel, entering the house and leaving the door open behind himself. Jeremy might be reading too much into it, but that has to be a good sign, right? He scrambles to lock his car and follow him in, closing the door quietly.
He finds Jean in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand, drinking in big gulps. He watches Jean's throat move as he swallows, and for a millisecond he starts to imagine them in bed again, and— He shakes his head, as if that would help get rid of the thoughts, and looks back up to Jean's eyes.
Unlike before, his gaze is clear, intent, and focused right on Jeremy. The tension is palpable in the air, and every word Jeremy has been tamping down in the car bubbles in his throat, finally boiling over.
“Jean, I am so sorry about everything. I was completely out of line and had no right to do something you didn't agree to. That was a violation of your right to consent, and I have no excuse. I understand if you want me to move out of the room and, maybe, look for another partner among the Trojans, because I do not deserve to be one for you. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me, but I understand if you can't.”
All strength leaves Jeremy as he finishes rambling, and he stumbles to lean on the counter. He's gasping for breath, but his eyes never leave Jean's face, trying to parse the emotions on it. Jean is silent for too long, but when he speaks, his tone is harsh.
“What do you think you did?” The question surprises Jeremy, sending him into a stupor. He opens his mouth to say something, but Jean's next words make him choke on his breath. “You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do.”
All thoughts fly out of Jeremy's brain, because what Jean is saying doesn't make any sense. He never agreed to helping Jeremy get off, he froze when he felt it, he had a nightmare. Unless— He thinks through every interaction from the night before landing on the moment he decided to leave. He feels like there is one question that would help them clarify everything.
“Why did you think I left last night?” Jean stares at him intently, muscles in his jaw tensing as he struggles to answer. Jeremy has to know, so he asks again, “Jean, please. Tell me why you think I left last night.”
“Because you didn't want to be near me after I dreamt of raping you,” Jean's voice is quiet and he drops his gaze down, not looking at Jeremy as he says it. His chest rises and falls in deep breaths, as he stands there, still and silent once again.
Jeremy can't believe it. He can't believe how fucking stupid he was. This whole morning, Jean had been thinking he scared him away by admitting what his nightmare was about. He'd been thinking he was— No. Jeremy has to tell him, Jean has to know. Jeremy straightens up and walks around the counter to step in front of Jean, a few feet of distance left between them. He thinks back to what Jean has said and asks, voice shaky and vulnerable.
“What did you mean when you said I didn't do anything you didn't want me to do?” Jeremy waits patiently for the answer, but Jean gives him none, still not looking up. “You froze under me and pulled back when you saw I came. It triggered your nightmare, right? Right?”
Jean lifts his head at last, and Jeremy is struck with the wetness he sees on Jean’s eyelashes. Jean tilts his head up, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.
“You came and then mumbled that you didn’t want to do it, and then you ran away. You have pulled back every time I have tried to touch you, and I couldn’t stop wishing I could do it anyway,” Jean meets Jeremy’s eyes as he says it, driving every words like a needle into Jeremy’s heart. “I wanted it so much I dreamt of talking it, and I didn’t care that you didn’t want it.”
“Oh, Jean,” Jeremy reaches out his hand towards Jean’s face without thinking. He stops at the last second, finally realizing what he’s doing, and starts pulling back, but Jean’s hand flies up to catch his and press it to his cheek. Jeremy’s thumb swipes back and forth along the skin as he takes a step forward. “I wanted you. I want you so much. I hadn’t realized I said it out loud, you know? And I didn’t mean it in the way you think I did.”
“What did you mean?”
“I didn’t want to come on your lap because I didn’t want the moment to be about me. This whole thing was about you learning sex can feel good, learning what you like. I never wanted to take away from that, so I put my own pleasure aside. Yesterday, I.. I enjoyed what we were doing so much, I was surprised I came, and then it hit me that I sort of used you to get off, without getting your consent first. That’s why I freaked out and ran away to the bathroom. I didn’t realize you’d interpret it differently. And I didn’t realize you… wanted me to stay?”
“I have offered to reciprocate both times before. What made you think I wouldn’t want you to get off with me?”
It breaks Jeremy's heart to realize how wrong he was. His voice is shaky, as he says, “I thought you just felt obligated to do it. I didn’t think you actually wanted it. Wanted me.” The admission hangs between them
“I want you. I want you all the time. I can’t look at you without remembering what you did to me. I can’t look at you without wanting to kiss you again, to touch you, to feel you,” Jean’s voice is softer than Jeremy has ever heard it, and it takes all of his willpower not to lean forward and taste the words on his lips. Instead, he tugs Jean’s face closer and presses their foreheads together. They stay like that for minutes Jeremy can’t count, the admission hanging between them. It takes Jeremy a while to formulate his thoughts, but when he does, it’s the most honest he’s been with Jean since they met.
“I can’t stop thinking about you all the time. Not just about sex. I wonder if you feel okay, if something is bothering you and you don’t tell us. I worry about your past, the details you haven’t shared. I don’t want you to feel like you have to, but as long as you don’t, I’m walking through a minefield. I’m scared of doing something— Of hurting you. From what you’ve shared, what I’ve seen, you’ve been hurt too much. You didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves it. I want to make sure you never feel like that again. And when you ask to reciprocate, I can’t help but remember what you said about— the Ravens. I can’t help but be afraid of doing something that reminds you of them. I won’t be like them, I won’t.”
“You’re not,” Jean’s hoarse whisper catches him off-guard, and he opens his eyes, meeting Jean’s. “You are not like them, Jeremy Knox, and you never will be. So when I say I want you - believe me. When I ask to touch you - trust that I want it, just as I trust you to stop if I ask.”
“I promise,” Jeremy whispers back, tears gathered underneath his eyelids, threatening to spill over. He feels it a moment before in happens - Jean’s face moving, tilting to the side - and then there are warm lips pressed to his. He leans into the kiss, crowding Jean against the table, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Jean’s hands grip his waist tightly, and a part of Jeremy wishes it would leave bruises, something he can touch to remember this moment.
As Jean pulls him closer, the kiss grows more intense, Jean's tongue sliding across his lips, and then between them. Jeremy feels dizzy with the lack of oxygen, the emotions from earlier, and most of all - from Jean. His thigh brushes against Jean's crotch and he feels the growing hardness there, one that matches his own. Jean's hands slide down to his hips and pull harder, aligning them. He kisses Jeremy's jaw, his cheek, under his ear.
“I want you,” his low voice makes Jeremy shiver, but as Jean's hips move against his, he feels too open, too raw, too— something.
“Jean, stop,” the words make Jean freeze, and Jeremy scrambles to explain, before it can be taken the wrong way. “I want you too. But not like this. We're not in a right state of mind to consent.”
Jean pulls back slightly, confused. “I'm not drunk.”
“No, of course not,” Jeremy smiles softly. “We're both tired, and emotional. I can barely think straight, and I think you feel the same. I don't want the first time you touch me to be overshadowed by the stress from earlier.”
He passes his hand over Jean’s cheek, tangling the fingers in his hair, and leans closer. Maybe it's not the right time to say it, but he can't let Jean think he doesn't want him, so he whispers in his ear.
“The first time you touch me, I want us both to be fully present. I want you to make me come, and I want to remember your face when you see it.”
The groan Jean lets out reverberates through his chest and Jeremy can feel the vibration under his skin. He can't help but lean in to meet Jean's lips again. It feels like they’re standing on the precipice of something big, only a few steps separating them from something - either falling, or soaring higher than they’ve ever been. As they break their kiss, Jeremy presses his face into Jean’s shoulder, unwilling to let go just yet. Jean’s palms slide to his lower back, pulling him in.
---
They stay like that long enough for Cat and Laila to return with the groceries.
“All good then?” Laila’s voice finally makes them separate, but they stay near each other, Jean’s hand still on the Jeremy’s lower back. Jeremy is surprised to hear Jean answer her.
“Yes. I’m sorry if I made you worry, earlier. That was not my intention. I just needed to clear my head,” his hand slides to Jeremy’s waist and squeezes, making Jeremy smile at the contact.
“Well, next time you need to clear your head - take your fucking phone with you, asshole,” despite the harsh words, Cat doesn’t sound angry. She walks up to them and punches Jean’s shoulder lightly, before narrowing her eyes at where his hand is. “Now, is there something you want to tell us?”
Laila giggles behind her, and Jeremy glances up at Jean to gauge his reaction. The look on his face makes Jeremy’s heart fall, but he understands. Of course, Jean doesn’t want to tell them. He’s kept so much of his life a secret from everyone around him, it’s no wonder he feels uncomfortable at the idea of sharing something personal. Before he can say anything, Jeremy looks back to Cat and gives her a small smile.
“Sorry, Cat, not now,” she throws him a sharp look but says nothing else, finally setting the grocery bag on the counter.
“Jean, do you mind helping me unload this?” Jean nods and lets go of Jeremy. Jeremy takes it as his cue to leave, snatching Laila by the elbow on his way out of the kitchen.
When they get to the corridor leading to their bedrooms, far enough out of earshot, he expects Laila to ask again, but she just smiles at him, knowingly, “This is clearly something Jean is not ready to tell and I’m not going to ask you to break his trust. Just— I hope you know what you’re doing, Jeremy. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She doesn’t let him reply, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door. Her words stay with Jeremy all day, through the brunch Cat and Jean prepare for them, and the movie marathon that follows. As he sits on the couch across from Jean, watching him more than the TV, he keeps asking himself if he does know what he is doing, or if he is far out of his depth.
---
They all decide to turn in early; the night before - which Cat and Laila apparently spent driving around and ‘watching the stars outside the city’ - catching up to all of them. They take turns in the shower and Jean, being the last to go in, only spends a few minutes there’s as usual. As Jeremy waits for Jean to come back out, he strips both their bedding, and replaces it with clean linens. Just as he’s finishing with his blanket, he hears the water cut off and Jean enters the bedroom shortly after.
As Jean walks to the closet and puts his sleep shirt and pants on, Jeremy doesn't look at him. Instead, he grabs the pile of laundry and heads for the bathroom to struggle to fit in into the hamper, before giving up and leaving it in a heap on the floor to deal with tomorrow.
“Jeremy?” he walks back into the room, but the voice makes him pause by the side of his bed, and glance back. Jean is standing in the space between their beds, looking at Jeremy intently. Meeting Jeremy’s eyes, he asks, “Can I stay with you tonight? In you bed?”
Jeremy smiles softly, but the request makes him worry. They’ve only slept together after Jean’s nightmares. They’ve never started the night together, so he wasn’t sure what would happen if Jean dreamt of something bad again, but he made a promise. He would trust Jean to only ask for things he was sure of, and he would trust Jean to tell him if something was wrong, so he had to trust him now.
“Of course,” he climbs into the bed, turning to face the wall, and burrows his face into the pillow. When he doesn’t feel Jean follow behind, he opens his eyes and looks back. Jean had taken a few steps, but stopped right by the side of his bed, not moving to get in. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t… I can’t be behind you. Not after…” He leaves the rest unsaid, but Jeremy understands anyway.
“Do you want me to hold you?” Jeremy doesn’t need to hear Jean’s answer to figure it out. Everything is written on Jean’s face. He stands there, confused, because he wants to sleep with Jeremy, but doesn’t know how to approach it, now that spooning is not an option. Feeling a strange sense of comfort from helping Jean learn to live in the world where he’s safe, and his wishes are listened to and respected, Jeremy turns around and lifts the other side of the cover for Jean. “Lie down next to me on your back.”
Jean does as he’s offered, and Jeremy lets the cover fall on top of him, before lifting Jean’s arm - the one closest to him - and moving it around his own shoulders. He leans down then, his cheek against the place between Jean’s shoulder and his chest, and looks up. The angle is horrible, and he can’t see Jean’s eyes properly, but he notices the muscles in his face relax, as Jean settles into the position, his arm tightening around Jeremy.
“If you get too uncomfortable in the night, you can just move me to the pillow and lie on your side facing me. You don’t actually have to always touch the person, if you want to sleep in the same bed with them. Sometimes just knowing they’re right next to you is enough,” Jeremy can feel, more than see Jean nod, as he tilts his head back down. Jean’s chest is firm underneath him, and as he moves to place his left hand around Jean’s ribs, he feels a soft press of lips against his head. He thinks the smile that breaks on his face at that contact is wide enough for Jean to feel through his sleep shirt. “Good night, Jean.”
“Goodnight, Jeremy,” he hears Jean whisper. The emotions of the past day and the sleepless night before crash down on him, and sleep quickly takes him under.
---
Jeremy doesn't usually dream. Well, most likely he does, but doesn't remember the images his mind conjures in the middle of the night. This time, he becomes vaguely aware of the dream shortly before he wakes up. In it he's with Jean, most of their clothes already gone, and they're kissing. Jeremy feels himself growing harder each minute, and wants to see if Jean is too, but for some reason his lower half is too far. It doesn't make sense, because there is a pleasant pressure of Jean's body on his chest, but their legs don't touch. As he debates the logistics of their position, Jean's lips move down his neck, soft presses of lips to skin.
He smiles at the feeling, wants to put his arms around Jean, but something prevents him from doing it. There is a weight on his right arm, making him unable to move. The feeling of lips on his neck doesn’t go away, but he gradually becomes more aware of the rest of his body.
Jean is not on top of him, it finally registers, but his arm is. It’s slung over Jeremy’s chest, hand resting on his ribs, and his face is pressed between Jeremy’s neck and shoulder. Lying on his back with Jean pressed to his side, Jeremy opens his eyes to the brightness of the room. The images from his dream of Jean leaving a trail of marks from his jaw to his collarbone now make sense, because there is definitely a feeling of Jean’s open mouth on his neck, warm air hitting the skin on each exhale. Another part registers slower, but Jeremy eventually becomes aware of his body’s reaction to the closeness of another person. Of Jean, specifically.
As he shifts on his back, tingles running down the arm currently being squashed by Jean’s weight, his hip brushes Jean’s crotch and— That part of the dream makes sense too. He pulls his hips away a few inches, still a little unsure from the night before, but Jean presses back into him. For a moment he thinks Jean is still asleep, but then the lips on his neck move. They press into the skin harder, before sliding slightly to the side and pressing again. As they find that spot under his ear that always makes him shiver, he swallows a moan at the back of his throat. Jean’s movements halt, but the lips never leave Jeremy’s skin as he whispers.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“God, no,” Jeremy breathes out shakily, and he can feel Jean’s grin against his neck. His lips stretch into a matching smile, but Jean chooses that moment to suck the skin under his ear and Jeremy’s mouth falls open in a moan he’s not fast enough to stop. The hand Jean has on his ribs starts to inch down slowly, sliding against his stomach and under the tank top. He passes the fingertips over Jeremy’s ribs and circles his nipple, putting light pressure before moving to the other one. Jeremy fights the noises threatening to spill out, because there’s still a part of his brain functioning well enough to remember Cat and Laila being literally next door. “Jean, please.”
He’s not sure what he’s asking for, but Jean seems to get it anyway, because his palm changes direction and moves down, stopping at the edge of his boxers.
“Do you want me to..?” Jeremy doesn’t let Jean finish the question, nodding eagerly. All these days denying himself, all the caution forgotten. Jean wants this. Jeremy can feel it in the confidence of his movements, the certainty in his voice. The hardness pressing against his hip is a good enough argument too. Jean doesn’t move though, and Jeremy’s heart melts as he says, mirroring Jeremy’s own words from their first time, “I need you to say it, Jeremy.”
It’s stupid, how hot he finds Jean asking for verbal consent. Or maybe it isn’t. Or maybe it’s everything Jean does. Regardless, Jeremy turns to his side, finally sliding his numb arm from underneath Jean and facing him. He wants to look at Jean when he says it, so that there is no doubt in Jean’s mind that he means it.
“I want you to touch me,” he places his hand on Jean’s cheek, thumb brushing his mouth. Tugging Jean’s bottom lip down, Jeremy leans forward, as close as he can, and whispers, “I want you to make me come,” before claiming Jean’s mouth in a kiss.
Jean’s tongue glides along his, the wet warmth of it making Jeremy dizzy. His hand slides into Jean’s hair and Jean’s fingers tangle in Jeremy’s blond curls, tugging. It’s unfair, how Jean remembers every single thing he has discovered that can make Jeremy unravel. It’s unfair, but it’s so good a part of Jeremy fears he might not even last until Jean touches his cock. Jean must feel his desperation, because his hand leaves Jeremy’s hair and drifts down. As it moves closer to Jeremy’s crotch, it becomes apparent to both of them that the angle is not the most comfortable, so Jeremy pulls back, already mourning the loss of Jean’s lips on his.
“It’s a bit easier if you’re sort of— on top of me,” he suggests, but Jean’s face tells him it’s not going to work. His eyebrows draw together, corners of his mouth pinched, and Jeremy doesn’t need Jean to say it, to understand it’s a no.
What he doesn’t expect Jean to say is, “What if you’re on top of me?”
It’s Jeremy’s turn to frown, the power imbalance of the position more obvious to him, than it is to Jean. He fears how Jean might react to being pinned down by someone else’s weight, and, with a worried expression on his face, tries to figure out how to ask. What leaves his mouth is an awkward, “It won’t— It won’t remind you of anything bad?”
He regrets his phrasing immediately, because Jean’s face falls, memories of his past probably invading his mind. His jaw clenches a few times as he mulls over the answer, and Jeremy waits patiently for whatever it is. Jean’s next words are measured, barely revealing anything, but he still says enough to make Jeremy’s heart twist in pain, and also to make him relax a little.
“It was never like that,” Jeremy smiles sadly, tamping down every desire to ask more. If Jean wants to tell him, he will, when he chooses to. For now, just knowing that Jean can experience things that have not been ruined for him in the past is enough.
Jeremy’s smile turns into a grin as he drops his voice down to a more sensual pitch. “Good,” he says, sitting up on the bed and swinging one of his legs over Jean’s thighs. “Because that means I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”
His palms land on Jean’s stomach, sliding up slowly, taking his sleep shirt with them. Jean sits up to take it off, and Jeremy’s cock twitches in his boxers when he feels the core muscles clench under his hands, as Jean engages them to get up without leaning on his arms. Throwing the shirt in the direction of his own bed, Jean places his hands on Jeremy’s waist and pulls, until Jeremy’s crotch shifts to brush his.
Jeremy’s head is swimming, thoughts scattering around, as he watches Jean take charge. His eyes roll back as Jean’s palm covers him over the boxers and squeezes, lips finding that damned spot under his ear that makes him shiver. His hips make aborted movements against Jean, and they both groan. At the back of his mind, there are still thoughts of their friends across the hall, so Jeremy presses his palm to Jean's cheek, tilting his face up.
“I really don't want Cat and Laila to hear us have sex right now,” he says, huffing out a laugh.
Jean tilts his head to the side and the roughness of his voice makes a wave of heat rush through Jeremy’s body. “Do you need me to help you be quiet again?”
The memory of a few mornings before comes back to him, the weight of Jean's fingers on his tongue, the saltiness of his skin. And then - another memory. A different weight, a different taste, and Jeremy rushes to kiss Jean, his moan lost in the space between their lips.
Jean's hips jerk under him, and Jeremy suddenly remembers their initial goal. Jean wants to touch him. Jean wants to get him off. The thought thrills him, heat running down his spine. He gets to show Jean what it's like to touch another man, willingly, and selflishly, he looks forward to showing Jean how to touch him.
Pressing his palms to Jean's chest, Jeremy pushes him back down onto the bed, grinning. Slowly, he lifts his arms, grabbing the hem of his tank top. Jean's hands clench on his thighs, and knowing that just the sight of his body causes that reaction makes blood rush south.
Just to tease, he shifts his hips on top of Jean, rubbing against his length, and Jean throws his head back, groaning deep in this throat. The long collumn of his neck draws Jeremy’s gaze like a magnet, lips itching to feel the skin, but he directs his attention lower, focusing on where he's sure he won't trigger Jean.
He leans forward, his cock pressing harder against Jean's, and attaches his mouth to the hollow under Jean's collarbone. He kisses lower, tongue running acros Jean's nipple, and the hands clench on his hips so hard, he's sure they'll leave bruises. He likes the idea.
Jeremy licks across Jean's chest, trying to map out as much as he can, noticing every little scar and imperfection. His heart constricts at the though of what - and who - left them, but he knows better than to ask. It doesn't matter, as long as Jean never sees them again, as long as he is safe in California. With Jeremy.
Jean's hand pushing his shoulder makes Jeremy stop his ministrations, looking up. Relief washes over him at seeing Jean's face, absolutely no discomfort on it, just raw desire. Jeremy grins, leaning his chin on Jean's sternum, and asks, tone teasing, “Something the matter?”
His palms on Jean's ribs slide up, thumbs brushing his nipples, and he grins wider at Jean's reaction. His blinks slowly, but when he opens his eyes, the look in them makes Jeremy shiver.
“Let me touch you, Jeremy,” Jean knows what he's doing, saying his name like that. He knows what it does to Jeremy and he's absolutely using it to his advantage. Jeremy’s heart beats so fast he fears it will burst out of his chest, because it's the small things like this, the attention Jean pays, that make him want Jean even more. Not just in his bed, but in his life. Forever. It's a dangerous thought, so he pushes it aside, focusing on the present instead.
“Alright then,” he sits up, swinging his leg to the side and dislodging Jean's hands as he climbs off the bed. A brief flash of confusion passes over Jean's face, before he understands what Jeremy is doing. Without a second thought, he sits up too, sliding both his sleep shorts and his underwear down his legs, as Jeremy does the same with his boxers. They pause like that, looking at each other intently, before Jeremy finally breaks and surges forward to straddle Jean again, pressing their lips together.
The skin on skin contact lights Jeremy on fire from the inside. The heat of Jean's body, the slick sweat making their bodies stick together - it all drives him a little bit insane. He licks into Jean's mouth with a desperation, leaning into him. The momentum makes them both crash, Jean's back hitting the bed, and all remaining breath rushes out of Jeremy's lungs at the impact. He shifts, suddenly unsure, but the movement makes their bare cocks brush against each other, and Jeremy has to muffle his groan into Jean’s sternum. He can feel the matching sound vibrate through Jean's chest, and smiles against the skin.
Looking up, he asks, “Still want to?”
Jean glares at him, leaning up on his elbows and dislodging Jeremy, making him sit up as well. As their eyes meet, Jean's face twists in a half grin, and he leans towards Jeremy's ear. Moments before it happens, he knows what Jean is going to say.
“Yes, Jeremy.”
Fuck his stupid sexy accent, fuck the rolling ‘r's and fuck Jean for knowing which buttons to push.
“Fuck, Jean,” he can't help but groan into Jean’s shoulder. He feels Jean's hands on his thighs, inching higher, and his hips twitch to meet the touch. He closes his eyes, relaxing his body on top of Jean's, and whispers, “Touch me”.
When Jean does, his movements are slow and measured, but by no means awkward or unsure. Distantly, Jeremy wonders if he's applying what Jeremy did to him, or what he does on his own to the situation. In any case, he swipes the palm over the head of Jeremy’s dick, gathering precome, and tightens his fingers around the length, moving down.
It takes a couple of strokes for Jeremy to start feeling overwhelmed, the buildup and anticipation finally getting to him. He can't bring himself to be embarrassed about it, because if anything, it is a testament to his desire for Jean. There is no shame in how he feels.
He wants to touch Jean too, but his arms seem to have taken a permanent residence around Jean's shoulders and he can't for the life of him remember how to move them. He holds onto the man under him, fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, and it feels so right, he has to open his eyes to make sure it's real.
The look on Jean's face is everything. His pupils are completely blown, mouth slightly open, as he watches his hand move around Jeremy. He's hard too, but he pays it no mind, all of his focus on Jeremy, and it just won't do. Jeremy isn't sure he can form words properly, but action speak louder anyway, so he hopes Jean understands.
Jean's movements are halted by Jeremy’s hand covering his. Their eyes meet, and before Jean can ask, Jeremy kisses him. As their lips slide against each other, his hand moves Jean’s to his own cock. They tighten their hold, one palm covering the other, and jerk up and down a few times before Jeremy makes them pause. Leaning back to meet Jean's eyes feels like a loss of something vital, something that keeps him alive. He watches confusion make way to understanding and desire the moment he shifts their hands to wrap around both of their cocks, bringing them together.
It's still a bit too dry, but it doesn’t matter, because it's Jean's skin he feels against his own. It's Jean's firm length he feels pressing to his, Jean's long fingers circling them.
It doesn't take either of them long after that, the pent up energy making the air supercharged. Jeremy presses his lips to Jean’s, but it’s less a kiss and more panting into each other's mouths and swallowing each other's moans. It's a surprise to Jeremy when Jean is the first to come. With how desperate he's been feeling he was sure he’d lose control first, but the feeling of Jean's warm release slicking the path for their hands is the last push he needs to follow Jean over the edge.
Jeremy has had his fair share of hookups, some more meaningful than others, but it has never felt like this. There is a rush of blood in his ears, spots of white in his vision, and he has to close his eyes, slumping against Jean, because he's suddenly exhausted. All he wants now is to wrap himself around Jean and never let go.
He doesn't know how long they stay like that, his hands on Jean's shoulders, head tucked between Jean's shoulder and neck, and Jean’s own clean hand on his hip. Their breaths eventually even out, heartbeats slowing. Jeremy feels warm and secure in Jean's arms, and it feels amazing to bask in the closeness.
The shuffling of feet outside the door brings them out of the reverie. Jeremy's head snaps back as they approach the door, but the girls just pass by. He sighs out in relief, and turns back to Jean. His gaze is unfocused, the look in his eyes complicated, and since Jeremy has never been able to read him anyway, he simply asks.
“Is everything okay? Did you like it?” Jean looks into his eyes, and gives a silent nod. He glances down at his hand, still covered in their joint release, and Jeremy huffs. “Yeah, it's a bit messy, I guess. We should probably shower,” he's testing the waters as he asks, tone as light as he can make it, “Do you want to join me?”
The expression Jean makes would be as unclear to Jeremy as the rest of them, anything more complex than desire on confusion still a mystery to him, except he's seen this one before. It's panic, flashing over Jean's features, and Jeremy's heart twists at the realization. It's not the right time to talk about is though, so he just smiles and leans in to kiss the number on Jean's cheek, his jaw, and finally his lips.
He smiles, pulling back, and climbs off Jean's lap to settle on the bed beside him.
“You go first, then. I'll take too long anyway,” he settles back against the pillows, stretching his arms above his head. From underneath his eyelids, he watches Jean track the movement and grins.
Jean suddenly leans over him, crashing their lips together for a quick moment before pulling away and standing up. He grabs his clothes, the towel from the closet, and thows a quick look towards Jeremy as he's about to open the door. Jeremy winks at him, grinning still, and Jean’s lips twitch in a smile before he leaves.
Jeremy knows it won't be long until he comes back, but he still spends the time lying on the bed. Thoughts swirl in his head, the memories of his conversation with Neil the day before, every moment of Jean's hesitation about anything involving water, his quick showers, his nightmares and his unwillingness to share his past.
Sometimes it feels like too much for Jeremy to handle, but the mere thought of ending whatever they're building with Jean makes his heart twist uncomfortably. He knows it's going to be hard. God, it's been hard already so far, but something tells him Jean is worth it.
Hearing the water cut off in the bathroom, he finally gets out of the bed and grabs his clothes and towel. He opens the door to find Jean on the other side, and jumps a little in surprise, huffing out a laugh at his own reaction. He moves to step around Jean, but a hand on his arm stops him.
He looks into Jean’s eyes and finds something intense in them. Jean relaxes his grip and slides his hold down to Jeremy's hand.
“Did—,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before trying again. “Did you like it?”
Jeremy’s eyes widen in surprise, because he thought it was pretty obvious how much he enjoyed what they did. Maybe it wasn't after all, so he makes sure to let Jean know.
Leaning closer, his mouth to Jean's ear, he whispers, “I really really liked it. Can't wait to show you what else I like.”
It's a gamble, and oh does it pay off. Jean's expression is a little dazed, as he pulls back, and his gaze drops to Jeremy's lips. Jeremy grins, finally stepping around him and heading for the shower.
If anything, he is more sure now that Jean really wants him. Wants to touch him again, wants to have sex. Everything else, they'll work through.