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Jimmy thought Curly must be in love with him or something.
Jimmy’s never expressed interest in Curly like that. He wasn’t even inclined in that way. Didn’t care enough about the lives of others to form an opinion on the matter of homosexuality. It wasn’t about that.
People like Curly, blessed people who’ve never had to scratch and claw, aren’t used to wanting things they can’t have. So what does he do when he wants something he can’t have? He turns his attention to something or someone else, probing for something that will give him some light.
Right now, he’s cutting a slice of cake for the nurse. Smiling at her, celebrating her like he actually gives a fuck. And Jim is sitting there like a cuckhold because that’s just how he gets paid at the end of this.
There wasn’t anything she could do that Jimmy couldn’t do better. And she didn’t know Curly like he knew him, because he could tell by the stupid look on her face that she had no idea she had no chance with him.
But, it’s her “birthday.” If they didn’t have these, they’d all lose their sanity a lot quicker.
He supposed that was fine. Fair is fair. It was his birthday last haul and it will be Swansea’s next. This was just how the machine worked and Jimmy knew he should be grateful for the meager scraps of joy Corporate spoon feeds them, if one could even call it that.
… No. Fuck that. Is this supposed to be fun? What the hell was wrong with them? Could they truly not see that there was no peak of happiness? That when they looked back on their lives, Jimmy, Swansea, and the nurse will have no peak to point to?
What’s the point?
What’s the point?
What’s the point?
Suddenly Curly’s looking at him offering a plate of gray matter that someone charitably decided to call cake. Is this all Jimmy’s going to get from him?
Curly just has the biggest fucking eyes, always looking at Jimmy like he’s expecting something. [Why are you fucking looking at me like that?] But Curly would never just say it. Never just rip the bandaid off and say that he wanted him because he’s a coward.
Curly has already found the peak, after all. He wouldn’t want to risk changing things too much. Jimmy understands that perfectly well.
Thing about it is, Jimmy often envisioned having sex with Curly. It comes to him at ‘night’ when there’s no one but himself and the ugly knots in his stomach, but it’s Curly’s fault. He has no idea what kind of pressure he puts Jim under with just his eyes alone.
It’s Curly’s fault.
Curly’s a big man. He’s a little taller, has a broad chest and shoulders, thick legs and arms… Well fed and muscled.
He’d probably want to make Jimmy lay down like a woman. Turns Jimmy’s stomach, thinking of Curly in that way. With his blocky fingers tugging on his hair, slamming into him mercilessly, reminding Jim that he will always be beneath him even if he is too much of a self-proclaimed saint to admit it to himself.
He uncrosses his arms and takes the cake from Curly.
Yeah. It turns his stoma-a-a-a-a
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The Tulpar eventually fell back to Earth safely and was docked in the freighter depot of Pony Express’ Headquarters. HQ was a giant, monolithic thing with traffic and pollution making it hard to see. Big and ugly, just the way humans liked it.
Crew members had to stay onboard the ship and assist as depot workers bustled about like colony ants performing inspections and taking reports.
The whole thing can take a few days, but after that, crew members usually had a month to re-acquaint themselves with home before they had to get back on the horse, so to speak. 28 Days, to be exact. That was Corporate’s generous time-off package, and it was likely that that was just the minimum amount required to satisfy labor laws.
Curly just felt lost during these periods. Sometimes his whole world was just the Tulpar. He felt that it wasn’t big enough, but the whole world was too big at the same time. He had no waypoint, and he wasn’t always sure if that was okay.
He loved being captain of the Tulpar, but there was more to life than just that. He didn’t want to waste it, however little he may have had left.
Standing on the docks post-inspection, surrounded by blue sky and people with vivid lives hidden by a lack of familiarity, Curly’s mind inevitably finds itself back onboard the Tulpar, mentally reviewing the events of the haul in chronological order.
One bright spot from this last trip was Anya’s birthday party. She’s still a bit green for a job like this, only having completed one or two other round trips before this last one. She admittedly isn’t the most reliable, but… Curly just feels so bad for her.
That, and he’s honestly a little jealous of her, too.
She actually has a waypoint, she just needs help to reach it. Her peak of happiness, her idea of the person she wants to be… He can’t help but envy that she at least knows what it is.
Curly knew that he should already be at the peak. Trouble was, it didn’t quite feel that way. Not if he was being honest. And there was never going to be an easy answer to that, he knew, but if he were to allow himself to be childish, he wished life was as easy as having an epiphany.
Were it that he could simply see a vision, have a premonition; some kind of manifestation of a desire that would allow him some clarity on the matter of what he really wanted… But then, Curly often thought he should be careful what he wished for.
He’s surrounded by idle ships on the docks, standing in civvie clothes while he signs the last of his paperwork for a depot manager on autopilot. Here he is, finally able to feel the breeze, and he couldn't help but feel incredibly strange that it unsettled him.
There is no breeze on the Tulpar. At least, you better hope there isn’t.
Jimmy bops his shoulder with the back of his knuckles and it grounds him more than the fresh air. More than the natural gravity of Earth. Knows it’s Jimmy without even looking.
He gives attention immediately, deeming his crew-mate to be more important than the clipboard he’s clutching.
”Finish that up, will you?” Jimmy bids. He’s out of uniform in a somewhat haggard looking bowling shirt, looking as out-of-place as Curly feels, but he’s making the same face he always is. Stern and sharp like jagged metal.
Jim’s an asshole, he knows, but he’s consistent. Curly likes consistency, he thinks?
”What for? Neither of us have anywhere to be for a month,” Curly huffs with a small smile.
“28 days,” Jimmy corrects with his standard level of flatness. “And It’s your birthday. Your actual birthday. Or did you forget?”
”Was trying to,” Curly shugs good-naturedly. This year he’s turning 41. He thinks rather sardonically that his recent musings are right on schedule for a good old-fashioned midlife crisis.
”Tch,” Curly thinks Jimmy’s trying to laugh there. “You’re just used to having other people surprise you with it.”
“Got me there.” He can feel his eyes crinkle with mirth; has seen the crows feet in the mirror and the lines around his mouth from giving as many acceptable smiles as he could. He’s getting old and he’s not sure if there are any more risks that are worth the reward.
But it’s been fun, right?
But it’s been fun, right?
But it’s been fun, right?
[TAKE A RISK]
[TAKE A RISK]
[TAKE A RISK]
“You wanna head to Polar Star?”
Polar Star has been their place for two decades now. A dingy sort of hole in the wall trying to be a bustling sports bar with cozy lighting, good food, and an ever dwindling customer base.
“Where else?” Jimmy finally smiles. It’s a grim looking thing, but Curly feels rewarded every time he sees it. It’s something he has to earn.
“Alright. Give me a second to finish up this paperwork and we can head ov-v-v-v
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Anya has very little to do. It’s not that she’s bored. She’s just wondering if her chosen purpose was really one that would make her life worth living. But then again, it’s not like anyone actually knew the answer to that kind of question until it was too late.
She’s working on being grateful.
She’s been doing all sorts of odd jobs like cutting hair and processing trash, because she can’t seem to actually gleen anything from anyone during the psych evals. She cut Swansea’s hair earlier that day, which had been odd, but kind of charming. She likes Swansea. He’s over the hill and overly bitter about everything, but that just makes her think he’s too curmudgeonly to hurt her.
He’d even thanked her when she was done. Now that was unexpected.
She still can’t smile quite right, but the memory fills her with a strange sense of fondness. Curly’s got a mostly decent crew here. Jimmy’s the only one she doesn’t feel quite right around, but he avoids her wherever possible. It’s a small blessing that he hates being around her. It’s only a problem when they have no choice but to be in the same room.
She’s in her sleeping quarters getting ready to take some of her uniforms and some personal items to laundry when she hears the metal door to her room screech open. She isn’t afraid.
”If you came to complain about the haircut, I already told you I didn’t know what I was doing,” she says to the pile of clothes stuffed in her hamper.
”No, but it’s easy to believe you’d fuck something so simple right up.”
Her body completely freezes in terror. Her eyes go wide and she can’t breathe.
”Oh relax, would you? It’s just a joke.”
”H-how are you, Jimmy?” She chokes out. She still hasn’t turned to face him.
”Fine. Was just wondering what you got up to while the rest of us sweat our faces off.”
”Laundry.”
”Laundry?”
”Yes.”
”Nice. Hey, since you’re doing laundry anyways, maybe you can help me?”
Stiffly, she somehow manages to turn her body to face Jimmy. When their eyes meet, she quickly averts her gaze to stare at his chest instead. He’s just leaning in the doorway with a hand in his pocket, his face a mixture of contempt and smugness.
”See, I had a wet dream about sexy nurses and now I’m out of fresh underwear. If you could lend a hand, that would really help me out.”
Her heart is trying to escape her chest. “Sure.”
”Thank you! Really appreciate it. It feels better when we earn our paycheck, doesn’t it-t-t-t-t
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Jimmy hasn’t had the best time of things here on Earth, admittedly. It’s a story as old as time for freighter workers. Hell of a lot of people only do the job because they don’t have a place to be on Earth and Jimmy’s just another sad sap in that demographic.
But of course he was. He’s common. Not blessed with opportunities for higher education or charisma. Common folk don’t get to work for leisure, they must always work to survive, and he was barely scraping by. It sometimes felt like being lost in space forever would be easier than returning home. It shouldn’t be possible to work so hard and end up with so very little. And yet.
Right now, all he wants is a pack of smokes from the damn cigarette machine, but the machine’s glaring back at him in an angry red light. “NO CREDITS.” He slams his palm into the side of it, snarling at the flimsy side paneling denting before popping back into place, unaffected.
So rent was deducted already, eh? That's all there ever was: rent, overdrafts, debt.
”Woah, relax,” Curly says, his voice floating from over Jimmy’s hunched shoulders. Jimmy straightens up and watches as Curly strolls over, his hands concealed in a weathered bomber jacket with an old, defunct Pony Express logo on it. He’s had that thing for ages.
Jimmy can still remember when the leather on it smelt new.
Without asking, Curly pulls out his wallet and Jimmy is briefly consumed with black rage at the sight. Why must he always try to subtly humiliate Jimmy like he’s stupid to notice?
[MEKA CLRUY YRSOU]
[EMKA YLRUC UOYRS]
[AMEK RUCLY OYRSU]
”It’s probably just the chip in your card, yeah?” he hums absently. He knows the brand Jimmy likes without consulting him, punching for it and pulling it from the vending slot when the light on the machine goes green. “I’ll take care of it this time, no worries.”
Jimmy is sure to keep his face carefully blank as Curly shoves the pack into his palm. Whatever shit music they had playing in the background slowly comes back to him before he ever realized his ears were ringing. His body feels hot, feverish, and it’s an effort to breathe evenly.
Why is Curly just fucking looking at him like that?
“What is it?” Curly prods first.
”Nothing. I’m just dying for a cig since we can’t smoke on the Tulpar,” Jimmy hastily reasons. He quickly tears off the plastic and starts packing the carton against his palm. “Been too long.”
”Mm, can’t poison all that recycled air,” Curly shrugs, passively agreeing with a wry tone. He nods his head towards the bar, silently imploring Jimmy to follow along and have a seat. Follow he does.
With their asses in matching stools, Curly orders whatever shit they have on tap— Jimmy lights up a cigarette. By the time the drinks come, the rage has completely left his body, all but forgotten about. Sometimes he realizes how hot and cold his temperament is, but not this time.
Jimmy holds the glass up with his cig pinched between thick fingers, body turned slightly towards Curly as he says, “Congrats on getting older.”
”Cheers,” he smiles— his teeth are perfect and white— and lightly taps the edge of his glass to Jimmy’s.
They drink for the first time in over a year. Soon there won’t be any time for this as they press their noses back to the grindstone once again, but for now it’s… nice.
Of course, there is a scab Jimmy thinks to pick at before he can decide against it.
“Now that we’re back home and can sum up all the parts, what did you think of the nurse?”
“Well, Anya’s… Well,” Curly huffs, shaking his head mildly. “She was a transfer from the Artax, so she's not quite as green as you’d think. Did a haul or two with them before this last one with us.”
“Never knew,” Jim says quietly. “Guess it makes sense, though. She asked a lot of questions, but she seemed to know her way around a freighter at the very least.”
“Yeah. She’s been struggling with med school, and I know she’s not the best of the best, but it’s because she needs more support. Right now, I’m just thankful that we didn’t get into any scrapes out there. I know enough to lend a hand in a pinch, but…”
Jimmy drinks. “They shouldn’t have shoved her onto us if she’s not qualified for the title. No way she’s gonna last.”
”I wouldn’t exactly say it like that,” Curly chuckles, big blue eyes widening slightly in exasperation. “I think Anya just needs a little help. My focus with her is going to be trying to prop her up so she can get where she’s going. It’s hard not having anyone. I don’t want to be just another person in her life who couldn’t give a fuck, you know?”
Jimmy drinks some more. “You’re so kind and benevolent, Captain.”
Curly shakes his head again. “I need you guys. If getting her to where I need her to be also happens to help her situation, that’s just coincidence.”
He’s smiling wryly at Jim like there’s a joke there. Jim doesn’t get it. Isn’t he just saying, “Oh, Jimmy! I’m not really that good of a person! Can’t I have selfish interests just like you?” Jimmy doesn’t smile back.
“And anyways,” Curly adds, “I know that wasn’t what you were really digging for, was it? You dog.”
“If you know, then answer the question properly. You got a dick between your legs, don’t you?” Now that makes Jim smile. With teeth and creased eyes.
Curly scrunches his nose at that, but he isn’t as put off as he likes to pretend, Jim knows. Curly likes how Jim presses on bruises just gently enough to get a reaction. He likes it as long as Jimmy’s careful about the pressure.
”She’s pretty,” is all Curly hums around a mouthful of beer. Noncommittal and with a shrug.
”You think so?” Jimmy presses. [You can give me more than that.]
“Sure, I guess. She’s… a sweet person, once you get her talking. A bit shy,” He admits, looking at Jim like he’d wish he’d just stop. [Not yet.]
”She’s a bit mannish, if you ask me,” Jim suggests. “She’s got big hands and wide shoulders. Greasy hair like a teenage boy.”
“I didn’t ask you. But that sounds like someone I know,” Curly looks at him meaningfully, tapping his chin, squinting his eyes playfully as he pretends to really scan Jim’s face for the first time. Smug bastard. Always so wry, but Jimmy sort of likes it. Likes when Curly kind of… Fights back.
”Yeah yeah,” He mutters, draining his glass just to deprive Curly of the sight of his own grin. It won’t do if he makes things too easy on him. The game is only fun if the cat acts like a cat, and the mouse behaves as a mouse. “Why don’t you buy me another drink, then? Since you’re the handsome one.”
Curly colors at that. Wipes the wryness right off his face for just a moment— blink and you’ll miss it— but he recovers just as easily and waves at the bartender. Jimmy feels his cock twitch at that.
He’s doing everything to keep his face blank, although he can’t feel it.
”It’s not as though we can’t both be handsome,” Curly bashfully reasons. He refuses to look at Jim now. That’s alright. Jimmy’s not as hung up on Curly trying to compliment him out of pity because he’s rather enjoying Curly’s bashful side.
“Yeah? …Happy Birthday, Captain.”
They accept the new drinks, Curly with a polite ‘thank you’ and Jim with a sarcastic little bow of his head.
“Thanks,” He huffs. This time his smile is warm and genuine. Jim stares at Curly, who has his chin resting on his palm, staring at the ancient bar decor. Who knows why; place has been the same since they started coming here. But he looks good like that. Pensive. Like he’s got the world on his shoulders.
“You know, Anya’s been cutting my hair.”
Jim’s blood goes ice cold. “… Did she?”
“Yeah,” he admits. “Cut Swansea’s too. She’s not half bad. She’d give you a trim, if you wanted.”
[Why everyone but me?]
When they’re out in space, of course they need to cut their hair. They need to do laundry and wipe their asses too. But the idea of her being so close to Curly when she hasn’t even done her time proper is infuriating. Jim’s been with him for much longer. Couldn’t Curly have asked Jim to cut his hair if he needed help so damn badly?
He narrowly keeps it together, saying bitterly, “I’d rather keep cutting it myself, but I guess she has to get paid for something.”
“You don’t have to be like that, Jim,” Curly actually frowns. Pressed the bruise too hard? “She’ll get there. We have to be patient.”
Curly must be in love with her or something.
[MAKE CURLY YOURS]
[MAKE CURLY YOURS]
[MAKE CURLY YOURS]
”Sorry,” Jim grunts. Curly loves a good apology. Signs of good-will and all that shit. Things Jim normally doesn’t even bother with. “Just don’t like the shit the higher-ups make us put up with.”
”I know,” Curly sighs. “Doesn’t make sense that they’d replace our medic before they got the whole co-pilot thing handled, but I guess Anya was having serious issues on the Artax. From what the report said, it’s definitely something that needed to happen urgently.”
“They still haven’t found anyone to be co-pilot?” Jim says, baffled. “Christ. We’ve been out in space for over a year. I thought you would’ve heard something from them as soon as we landed.”
”No… I would’ve told you if that were the case,” Curly frowns at him. “They’re saying no one’s qualified enough, but I think no one’s applying because Pony Express’ had too much scandal recently. That, and the pay is too low.”
Jim grips his glass a little too tight. It was still better than what he was making as a ship-hand. Only the captain gets great boons from his travels, after all. But there’s this idea. The thought that has to climb the ladder to get to the top. The idea that maybe he could be like Curly.
Jim says it without thinking.
”I could do it.”
”I— You— Really?” Curly asks, surprise written all over his face. “You would want to?”
“Don’t tell me you think I can’t cut it—“
”No, no, no!” Curly starts smiling, visibly excited at the mere thought of having Jim as his right hand man. It soothes the spikes that were starting to form in Jimmy’s mind. Curly needs him. Makes his cock throb. Hot blood rushing his head.
[Control your face.]
“I’m just relieved, Jim. Really. I mean, think about it. We’ve known each other for years, yeah? I can’t think of a better man for the job.”
“Yeah?” Jim kind of grins. Or maybe it's a sneer. He thinks it’s just a small thing, whatever you’d call it, but he just can’t feel his face at all. “If you really thought that, why didn’t you ask me to be your co-pilot before?”
“Didn’t know you were interested,” Curly smiles like the whole thing is funny. “Plus, it’s a lot of responsibility. I was just never sure if adding more shit to your plate was the right move.”
“I can handle it,” Jimmy says flatly.
“Yes. I believe in you. You and I have been doing this so long, you basically know everything already; you’d just have to be my apprentice on the next haul so the paperwork comes out clean, and then after that I can force you through. I’ll go back to base and put you down for the position tomor-r-r-r-r
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Anya knows that Jimmy doesn’t like her. She thinks she understands. She’s new on the Tulpar and she’s not very good at anything. She sometimes stutters, and lacks confidence. And there are always men that think women should stay out of male-dominated fields.
Yes, she understands.
But that was only 99% of the issue. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the last 1% of it had something to do with Captain Curly. If she was being brave, she might even say that anyone with eyes could see it, however small it appeared. It’s just that maybe Jimmy himself couldn’t see it.
Corporate forced her onboard when Captain Curly really needed a co-pilot. She’s overheard Jimmy explaining how ‘bullshit’ it is to the others. Poor Curly has to do everything by himself. To Jimmy, it must be downright unbelievable. She really gets it.
So sometimes she starts to think that maybe it would be better if she could just disappear. She’s clutching a pair of scissors in her pale hands. The metal is clean and reflective, showing her an image of her own sallow face. She hasn’t been sleeping well.
[GO FOR IT]
[GO FOR IT]
[GO FOR IT]
”Anya?”
It’s Captain Curly. She raises her head and looks at him standing in the doorway to medical.
”…Captain.”
”Is it comfortable down there?” He asks, kind of smiling, but not really. She guesses you could call it wry.
”Comfortable enough,” she lies.
Yes, it’s unusual that she’s sitting on the floor, isn’t it? Should she try to stand up and act like nothing strange has happened?
But before she can give that any serious thought, Curly is making his way towards her and sitting himself across from her with his legs crossed.
“You know…” He starts to say, staring at her face in a way that makes her skin crawl. He knows. They told him everything. She can’t stand his pity— ”I could really use a haircut.”
”Huh?”
“A haircut,” he repeats with an embarrassed looking grimace. He drags his fingers through the wiry waves along his neck. “I think It’s time I admit I have a mullet, and I don’t really like it. Makes me feel old.”
”How old are you?” She asks absently.
”40. But I know what you’re thinking: ‘mullets are for 40 year olds.’ Just do me a favor and let me pretend like I still got some good years left in me. Please?”
She stares at him. He looks to be asking her completely earnestly, and something about that— a man in genuine dismay over having grown out a decent mullet— she can’t help but laugh, even if it’s just a pathetic little half-aborted thing.
”Okay,” she says. “Turn around.”
Curly does so without saying anything, shifting himself on big palms. Everything about him is big. He’s got his work jumpsuit pulled from his shoulders and tied around the waist, exposing an old yellow shirt and his bare arms covered in pale hairs. She’s a little scared to touch him.
”I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits shakily.
”Neither do I,” he tells her. “But you’ll do better than I could. You can at least see what you’re doing. You’ve got… a waypoint.”
”A waypoint?”
”Mm. Right now, your waypoint is to hit me with your scissors till my mullet disappears, yeah?”
“Right.”
Curly wants his hair cut, so… Even if she doesn’t know what she’s doing, even if she’s bad at it, she can do this for him. She starts by lightly pulling the curls from the base of neck, cutting-g-g-g-g
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-TRANSFER NOTICE-
-FOR CAPTAIN’S EYES ONLY-
STARTING ON XX/XX/XX, THE TULPAR WILL WELCOME ABOARD A TRANSFER FROM THE ARTAX. DUE TO THE NATURE OF THE TRANSFER, IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT THE CAPTAIN BE MADE AWARE OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES SURROUNDING THIS TRANSFER AND TAKE ACTIONS TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF ALL EMPLOYEES ONBOARD.
THE TRANFER EXPERIENCED AN INSTANCE OF SEXUAL ABUSE FROM ANOTHER EMPLOYEE ABOARD THE ARTAX. PUNISHMENT HAS BEEN DEALT INTERNALLY. THE TRANSFER HAS CHOSEN NOT TO PRESS CHARGES.
DUE TO THE SENSITIVE NATURE OF THIS TRANSFER, THE CAPTAIN MUST KEEP THIS INFORMATION CONFIDENTIAL. IT IS THE CAPTAIN’S RESPONSIBILITY TO MAINTAIN A SAFE ENVIRONMENT FOR ALL EMPLOYEES. FAILURE TO COMPLY MAY RESULT IN PAY DOCKING, SUSPENSION, AND/OR TERMINATION.
WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION. AND REMEMBER:
TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK!
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”There, Curly, isn’t that better?” Jimmy groans.
”Mmphgh…”
Curly can’t talk, of course. He’s got Jim’s cock shoving up against the back of his throat. He’s practically choking himself on it just to get closer to Jimmy. Well, Jimmy knows a way to help Curly with that.
Jimmy threads his fingers through his thick crop of curls and tugs. It’s not just about physical leverage. This is where Anya has been touching him.
He’s fucking into Curly’s mouth like he would a virgin’s pussy, settting a sweet, sentimental pace for him. Everything Jim fucking does is for Curly. He can’t help the way he acts around him, even if he tries. Curly melts him, makes him soft.
But this proves he can be a good co-pilot, doesn’t it? He can be what Curly needs.
”This is nice for you, isn’t it?” Jimmy asks, mostly because he likes that Curly can’t use his mouth to respond.
Curly, who’s staring up at him with tears in his eyes. To Jim, those eyes are a shade of blue that doesn’t exist in nature. They make his skin crawl like someone with trypophobia staring at a honeycomb. Like Lovecraft’s Purple. But he can’t look away-y-y-y
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Swansea has a hard time sleeping. Always had. That’s why, decades ago, he drank himself to sleep every night. Drinkin’ in the morning just to stave off the sickness of it. Drinkin’ in the afternoon to ignore the anxiety brought on by selfish cruelty on Earth. Curly knows what a miserable drunk he was. That’s why he never bothers with the mocktails during their birthdays. He knows an old man like Swansea would spit in the face of his pity.
But sometimes he misses that. Swimming in vomit like a homeless bum. But he had to get off his ass eventually and do things right, just to see what would happen. Maybe it’s not so bad when the whole world is nothing but shit breaking on the Tulpar. Who fucking knows?
It’s ‘nighttime.’ Everyone else should be tucked in, savoring what precious little time Pony Express allows them to have, except…
”Anya.” Swansea calls to her.
The fuck is she doing, just sitting in the lounge staring at the screen?
“Anya!” He barks, because she obviously didn’t hear him.
She just about jumps out of her skin, looking at him with those big ass eyes of hers like a deer in headlights. Yelped like a baby, too, but Swansea didn’t find it all that funny to scare women.
“Jesus, relax, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He comes over and sits on the far side of the couch, leaving her in her personal bubble. When she doesn’t say anything for a while, he asks a pointless, redundant question. “Can’t sleep?”
“No. Neither can you, I see,” She says. Girl’s quiet as a damn field mouse. Swansea would ask her to speak up, but he already feels old.
“They say you go to bed earlier and earlier when you’re older, but that’s a crock of shit. You stay with Pony Express long enough, you’ll see what it does to your ‘circadian rhythm.’”
“Mm.” She hums.
She’s back to staring up at the screen. Homesick, maybe? Swansea liked the moon back on Earth, he guesses. Used to just stare up at it while his vision swam, laughing about shit he didn’t realize he’d already forgotten. Constantly having epiphanies that didn’t translate to anything at all until one day it finally did.
None of that mattered now. When he actually follows her line of sight, She’s not staring at the moon at all. Something in the corner…
”You see it too?” She asks.
”That dead pixel?” Swansea asks in disbelief so great that he just wants to confirm he’s not crazy.
”Yeah,” she kind of huffs. Swansea doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be, a laugh? A scoff? Something caught in her throat? Doesn’t matter. “I just noticed it recently.”
”Something’s always broken on this ship,” Swansea swears. Work never ends, but there wasn’t anything he could do about the screen without replacing the whole damn thing. It wasn’t big enough to worry about, anyways.
Anya even says as much herself. “Although, it’s hard for me to ignore it.”
Swansea could ignore it just fine. “Why fixate on it when there’s not a damn thing you can do about it?”
“People do all sorts of things without knowing why.”
”S’that so?” is all he can give her. He agrees with that, but now what? What’s he supposed to do with that? He’s got enough neuroses without trying to decipher her’s.
At the same time, he’s not trying to add to her’s, either. Deeming the interaction to be over, Swansea groans himself to a stand. “Try not to waste all of your sleep time,” he says. It’s not a farewell, but it’s good enough. He only says it because decent people bother with the niceties, and one day many years ago he randomly decided to be one.
“Same to y-y-y-y
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“They’re about to do the last call. Ready to head out?” Curly asks.
He’s a little more drunk than he was planning on being. His face feels warm and he knows he’s wearing a lazy sort of smile that makes him look ridiculous, but he had fun. He always has fun with Jimmy. The guy’s a giant asshole, but that’s just kind of his charm. He didn’t really mean anything by it.
He kind of likes being the only person that Jim likes. It’s probably the same feeling as finally getting to pet a feral street cat. Curly’s sure he’s already seen the worst Jimmy could do and he wasn’t afraid of him.
“Yeah, guess so,” Jimmy grumbles. He’s visibly disappointed that fun-time is over and Curly understands without words.
Maybe this is what life was supposed to be: being rooted securely to the Earth with a minimum of one really good friend. Space exploration was as grand an achievement as any, but it couldn’t be good for the human psyche. The primal part of the brain that just wants to survive can’t comprehend neverending blackness.
Isn’t that what death was supposed to be?
They finally unstick themselves from their stools, Curly giving the bartender a lazy salute as he bids them farewell. He’s a little more unstable on his feet than he thought, but he won’t end up laying in a gutter somewhere staring at the streetlights, at least.
They push past the doors to Polar Star and are greeted by the cracked sidewalk. Cabs are dotted along the streets ready to pounce on the retiring alcoholic demographic, the whole strip littered with clubs, bars, pubs and whatever the hell else one could think to call it.
But he notices neither of them are saying anything, nor are either of them attempting to hail a cab. They’re just kind of standing there, looking at one another.
”…If you want, I know I’ve still got some gin back home,” Curly offers. “We could keep shootin’ the shit, watch a movie.”
Jimmy sucks his teeth. “Thought you had to be up early to put in my application?”
“Yeah, but technically I can go anytime as long as the business office is open,” Curly explains, rocking on the balls of his feet and feeling goofy. Still smiling and feeling warm. “I’m not just gonna forget about you, Jim. I’ll take care of it.”
“You always do,” Jim says sort of sarcastically, rolling his eyes, but he still comes closer to Curly with the intention to follow him into a cab. Good.
They hail a cab, the whole system automated, and Curly keys in his address after tapping his credits. They’re saying this type of automation will extend to the farthest reaches of space soon, and there wasn’t really anything anyone could do about that besides plan for the future. They spend the whole ride quiet with their knees knocking. Curly almost falls asleep, but he comes back alive when the fucking thing dings at him and thanks him for choosing their service.
His place isn’t anything special. Just an apartment in an older, brick-style building. It’s certainly more expensive than it looks, but so is everything else.
He thinks Jim is standing a little close when his key slides into the lock. The metal cries when he twists it, and then the door clicks open to reveal its blackness. The lights slowly fade on as they walk in, programmed to detect movement and stay dim this late at night.
“You know the drill,” Curly grunts, bending to take off his shell toes. “Just toss ‘em anywhere.”
He hears Jim kicking off his boots and walks away to root around the freezer for the gin. There’s really not much in there at all since he’s usually so far from home. He sees some old, grayed beef that he must’ve ran out of time to eat before the last haul. Freezer-burnt to hell and inedible, now.
He could just throw it away, but supposes it could probably wait a little longer and shuts the freezer.
He looks back to see Jim splayed out on his couch rather selfishly with the remote in his hand, leaving no room for Curly, but that sort of thing didn’t intimidate him. He doesn’t bother with glasses and strides over, lifting Jim’s legs by the ankles of his pants and shoves himself under his knees.
Jim looks perturbed. Makes Curly grin. He pats Jimmy’s calf a little smugly, daring him to move if he’s really so uncomfortable. It’s Curly’s couch, isn’t it? He can sit on it if he wants to.
”So, what are we watching?”
“The Hateful Eight.”
”Again?” Curly chuckles, unscrewing the cap from the bottle over top of Jimmy’s legs. “Those Tarantino movies are all like 40 billion years old by now.”
“They’re classics,” Jimmy reasons, frowning at Curly.
“Well, you could’ve picked worse. There’s no feet in this one,” drowning out the last syllable with a mouthful of gin. Lime flavor. He hands the bottle to Jimmy while wiping little drops from his mouth. He takes it from him wordlessly.
”No feet, but still a fetishy flick if you ask me,” Jimmy agrees. “Guy had a boner for blood and guts, too.”
Had to agree with that.
Jimmy finds the movie eventually and the lights black themselves out as it starts, another part of their programming. The first few shots expose an icy blue landscape covered in frost and bitter cold, and then an agonizingly long pan out from a statue of Jesus on the cross. He too, is covered in bitter snow and is unable to move, immortalized in his suffering.
Curly’s a little impatient with this movie, but he feels relaxed watching it with his friend.
He’s starting to get that feeling again, like maybe he shouldn’t go back out into space. That this is what his life is supposed to be about. He’s probably just drunk, and the feeling doesn’t last.
Because of course, there’s a scab he thinks to pick at before he can stop himself.
”At least this is one of the mostly linear ones.”
Jim’s just choking down a sip of gin as he responds, saying, ”Oh, blow me. You like Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill.”
”I like a happy ending,” Curly justifies himself, talking with his hands towards the screen. “Especially Kill Bill’s ending. That scene when Beatrix Kiddo is lying on the floor after she finally kills Bill, and she's stuck between laughing and crying—“
”Ughhh. A crying woman, how profound,” Jimmy groans, patronizing. Still, Curly isn’t really offended. “All the iconic bits are from Volume 1. Volume 2 isn’t even worth watching—“
”But she finally got to meet her daughter!” Curly says a little too loudly, smiling in extreme exasperation. His brows are about to touch his hairline, he thinks. “After spending all that time thinking her baby was killed! She— She killed Bill! That was the whole point!”
“Whatever, Curly. Look,” Jim gestures at the screen, which has finally evolved past poor Jesus frozen to the cross. “You want a happy fucking ending? The Hateful Eight has a happy ending too. All the miserable bastards kill each other and the world doesn’t have to worry about them anymore.”
Curly looks back at Jim and their eyes meet. He’s got this expression on his face like he’s annoyed that Curly can’t just see things his way, but Curly’s still having a good time. They’re just movies, after all. If Jimmy were really inconsolable over this, he’d just leave. Curly is sure of it.
He leans forward, tilting his head playfully at Jim. “Would it make you feel better if I said this is more fun to watch?” Curly simpers. He rubs Jimmy’s knee in mock-consolation. Teasing him.
Curly leans forward, doe-eyed and with his mouth looking soft. “Would it make you feel better if I said this is more fun to watch?” Curly confesses, looking right at Jimmy with those unnerving, blue eyes. He rubs Jimmy’s knee suggestively. Teasing him.
Suddenly he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life. He’s hard, and pissed off, and… He thinks Curly must be in love with him or something.
[MAKE CURLY YOURS]
The backs of his knees are draped over Curly’s big ass thighs, and his hips are facing up towards the ceiling. All Curly has to do to see what he’s done to him is glance down. Shouldn’t he take responsibility?
[MAKE CURLY YOURS]
Why must Curly do everything so half-assed? How long are they going to stare at each other like this? Can’t he just be a man and reach for Jimmy? It would be so easy.
[MAKE CURLY YOURS]
Jim’s sitting up and reaching for the back of Curly’s head before he even realizes what’s going on, tugging himself up the rest of the way by his hair. Their lips meet and it’s like Jim’s forcing his mouth open with his tongue, licking at his teeth until Curly opens up for him.
The gin was tossed onto the floor, he realizes. Most of it was sucked into the greedy carpet while the rest was left to stagnate in the bottle.
Curly holds onto Jim’s shoulder, clutching the material of his shirt as he comes to terms with the fact that Jimmy is really, truly kissing him. He closes his eyes.
Curly’s hand on his shoulder tells Jim that he’s relieved he’s doing this for him. Curly likes surprises, after all. Likes Jim doing everything for him too, so he rips Curly’s fingers loose from the fabric of his shirt and shoves it into his crotch.
”Mmph??” Curly moans into his mouth.
Wow. Jimmy’s already this hard? It’s been a long time for Curly, too, but he’s still working up to a half-chub. All this could’ve only taken a mere few seconds, after all.
He figures this is just something Jimmy needs right now. He could stop him if he wanted to, but he isn’t. They’re friends, right? Just blowing off some steam.
He squeezes Jim through his pants and enjoys the way that seems to ruffle him further. Sucks up the strangled gasp that falls from him.
Jimmy needs more. This alone would never be enough. He parts from Curly and tightens the fist in his hair, breathing heavily. All he has to do is tell Curly what to do. Curly’s openly begging for his cock; all he has to do is make him take it.
He pulls off to fulfil his mission, but Curly’s always fucking looking at him. Why is he fucking looking at him like that!?
Jim’s just staring at him now. Curly’s just trying to parse what he could possibly be thinking when he realizes Jim might just be embarrassed that he’s even started this. The idea makes his heart sink. He doesn’t want Jimmy to be uncomfortable, and a guy as emotionally constipated as him would never just come out and say it if he was.
”Hey,” Curly huffs, biting his lip and analyzing Jimmy’s face for signs of discomfort. He just needs to ask him gently. “Do you want me to… To take care of it?”
And he didn’t think Jim’s hand in his hair could possibly get any tighter, but it does.
”Yes,” He grits out. Yeah, that’s really doing something for Curly. Not necessarily the forcefulness of his hand, but the neediness in his voice. He didn’t think Jimmy capable of this.
”Untangle and lay back,” he gently commands him.
It takes everything in Jim’s power to steady his breathing and release Curly, but he does it somehow. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. So Curly tells him to lay back and he just does it? What the fuck is that?
Curly trails a big palm down Jimmy’s flank as he slowly lays down against the couch, hand coming to rest at his hip. His torso felt as tightly wound as his fist had been.
“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jimmy finds himself snarling. “You said you’d take care of it.”
And Curly knows that’s not quite what he said, but he understands Jim’s meaning. Has come to be sort of alright at speaking Jimmy-lese over the years. He smiles, just another wry twitch of the lips.
He can’t help it.
Jim’s chest is heaving as Curly manually repositions his legs, getting right in between them and fingering the button on his jeans.
Jimmy knows he should be on top of Curly. But Curly just thinks this is the natural way of things, always having things his way. Jimmy realizes that he can’t hear the movie anymore, and his hands and feet are numb. All that’s left is his own ragged breaths and Curly’s solid presence between his legs. He swears to himself that this doesn’t feel good. Not as good as if their roles were reversed.
The entire room looked to be black with a ghostly spotlight pointed on them, even the light from the TV having vanished. The spotlight Illuminates Curly's pale, sun-starved skin and the wiry gold waves of his hair. Fractures of light bounce off his crown and create a halo of rainbow-ed flares.
The button comes undone and suddenly Curly’s got Jimmy’s pants and underwear bunched around his thighs as far down as they’ll go. And there’s Jim’s cock, drooling so prettily. Who would’ve thought?
Curly’s definitely surprised to have ended up here, but he doesn’t mind. It’s just Jim. Nothing to be afraid of. All bark and no bite.
He leans forward and grips the base, knobby fingers grazing over the thatch of Jimmy’s coarse pubic hairs. Then he captures a fat bead of precum with his mouth, trapping it between the soft tip of Jimmy’s cock and his outstretched tongue. He drags his tongue up as slowly as possible until he runs out of track, letting Jimmy acclimate to the texture of his mouth slowly.
Next, he uses the tip of his tongue to gently prod at his urethra, lowering his lips and sucking the spongy muscle into his mouth for a moment before tonguing Jimmy’s hole a little more. If someone were to overhear, it would sound like innocent kissing.
God, the way Jimmy struggles to breathe from Curly’s careful touch feels almost as good as making the man smile.
Rather than just shoving the whole thing in his mouth, Curly decides to make out with the tip some more. He likes the taste of Jim’s salty precum, so he’s savoring it like it’s sweet, crisp red velvet. Swirling his tongue around his head, probably driving him a little bit crazy. Good lord, he is drunk and loving this.
Just to let Jimmy know there would be more to come, he strokes his shaft once, and then twice, not in a hurry to get anywhere fast. Jimmy thrusts up into his hand, silently watching Curly with a less-than-standard frown. He wishes he was a little more expressive, but this is still good.
His lips are parted, sweat already slicking some of that greasy brown hair to his forehead. Some might say that Jimmy was acceptably unkempt at best, but Curly liked him just the way he was. Sardonically thought of it as ‘intelligent design.’
The twisting motion of his wrist wrenches more liquid from the tip and Curly’s lapping it up like nectar. Jimmy’s cock is a juicy peach that threatens to drip its sweetness onto his chin. He slurps at it loudly before popping off entirely, but he’s not so cruel as to not stroke him through it.
”Gotta say, this is quite a surprise,” Curly admits, his cheeks feeling sunny as he smiles down at Jimmy. “I like eating you out, Co-pilot. Could do this all night.”
The arousal’s burning low in Curly’s belly, far lower than the gin. He gets such a rush from speaking to Jimmy of all people like this— but he knows that this is far beneath anything a good captain would do. The praise heaped onto him is undeserved. He shouldn’t be doing this.
But… Jimmy isn’t just crew. He’s Curly’s friend. A confidant. Was he supposed to live as a eunuch just because they’ve been to space together? Of course not. They’re off the fucking clock.
”Fishing for a compliment when all you’ve done is drive me up a fucking wall?” Jimmy growls.
Curly’s eyes go half lidded at his tone, shivers traveling all up and down his spine.
“You’re such a liar.”
”Wh-what?” Jimmy can’t believe his ears. Suddenly he’s terrified, his heart doing its best to beat out of his chest.
The spotlight above their heads illuminates the blue pools of Curly’s eyes and he appears as an angel, haloed by warm, honeyed light. The space that was supposed to be occupied by Jim’s own skin appeared colorless. Darker than black. Empty.
”Why don’t you just admit it?” Curly wonders. Always so wry. “I bet if I fucked you I could get you to say it. Hm, Jim? You think if I parted your legs and felt your insides I could get you to admit you love having me on top of you?”
”Shut up,” Jimmy snarls.
”Why don’t you just say it? Say it and I’m yours.”
…Curly would be his?
“Fuck me.”
”…What?” Curly can’t believe his ears. Suddenly he’s terrified, his heart doing its best to beat out of his chest.
”Fuck. Me.” Jim’s gaze flicks between Curly’s bewildered stare and his lips, summing him up. “Or were you lying just now?”
No. He said he’d take care of it, didn’t he? In so many words. Essentially, he had.
”Bedroom,” Curly gasps, crawling up Jimmy’s body to take his mouth once again. It’s a blur of teeth clicking and sloppy tongues while Curly hauls Jimmy up with his big arms around his torso, Jimmy proving himself to be unwilling to lose any distance as he clings to Curly’s neck.
His arms slip over the dip in his back, over the mound of his ass as he squeezes Jim close and comes to a stand. Long, spidery legs that were already half wrapped around his hips tighten to secure their embrace.
Curly’s sock saturates in the gin soaked carpet, but it’s so far in the back of his mind that he hardly notices.
The spotlight follows them as Curly carries him to his bed on wobbly feet. His large chest pins Jim to the door while his hands struggle to hold him up and turn the handle at the same time, and they both nearly tumble to the floor once it finally swings open.
Jim’s back hits the cool, soft bedding and suddenly he’s caged between two pale arms, thick like tree trunks, with Curly’s knees on either side of Jim’s jutting hips. Curly shed his aged jacket the moment he’d dropped Jim into his bed.
Jimmy could hear whispers echoing off walls with high ceilings below his prone body, wondering if he was really a man nor not. They conspired that Curly let anyone lay here. It was all coming from the mattress.
He didn’t want to look at Curly, who glowed brightly like fire, and he wanted to escape the voices, so he turned his head to face the wall to his left expecting to see blackness. What he saw instead was wine colored drapery with gold fringe and embroidery along the trim, illuminated just enough by Curly’s light to make out what it was.
“Are you still with me?” Curly asks Jim, his brow knotted with concern.
Jim was all over him just a second ago; couldn’t stop kissing him long enough to let him open the door properly, and they’d kissed through knocking a few books off of the bookshelf just now, too. But now it’s like he doesn’t want to look at Curly.
He’s laying limply on the bed just staring at the wall with all his posters and photos. Things he’d enjoyed in life and people who have come and gone, old pets and the one lone picture of his father who passed a long time ago. There was nothing over there that Jim would want to appraise.
Jim swallows thickly before speaking. “Yeah. It's just us and everyone else.”
Now what the hell does that mean in Jimmy-lese?
The curtain pulled itself open and revealed a theater full of faces, all silent and judgemental. Each one like a star ready to explode.
“You think I’m gonna… tell someone about this?” Curly guesses, a little hurt. When Jim refuses to answer or even look at him, Curly sighs and sits back on Jim’s thighs. “You know I would never do that.”
“Sure. But you won’t have to. Everyone already knows. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on here.”
Curly rubs one of his hands over his own thigh, self soothing as stress begins to color his body. “What do you mean?”
”You and me. Everyone can see it,” Jimmy explains. He tears his eyes off the wall and looks at Curly with fear in his eyes. It knocks the wind from Curly.
Everyone can see Jimmy and Curly? It’s true that Curly’s felt at times that they were dancing around one another, but he never sensed that anyone was looking too close. No one was paid to care, after all. But even if they were, what did it matter?
No, maybe that was being too idealistic. If Curly looked at the big picture, he’d be forced to acknowledge that prejudice wasn’t bound by Earth’s gravity. It could follow them into space. Jimmy must already realize this.
The idea that Jimmy felt fear and shame over his apparent attraction to men, or maybe even Curly specifically, finally materialized… And it struck Curly like lightning, black cracks splintering over his heart. Selfishly, he had hoped that Jim felt safe with him. But he tucked that selfishness away. He couldn’t let this become about that.
“Listen. It’s just you and me right now, yeah? Fuck everyone else,” Curly says firmly, leaning over Jimmy to peer into his eyes. He put his hand over Jimmy’s heart, which was thumping in his chest like a jackhammer. “We can still stop this. We don’t even have to speak of this— If you want, we can pretend it never happened and go back to how it was before.”
“I… You have to see this through, Captain,” Jimmy says. “This was always going to happen, don’t you think?”
”Maybe, but I… I don’t want to hurt you.”
He really means that, doesn’t he? Jimmy glances back to the sea of faces in their little congregation only to see that one important detail has changed. There’s a familiar face illuminated by a spotlight: Anya.
That changes things.
If she wanted to spectate, Jimmy would have no choice but to show her something she wouldn’t soon forget.
“I could fuck you instead,” Jimmy suddenly suggests, his face going dark with desire. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Captain? My cock in your ass for your birthday?”
For as much as Jim had scared him just now, his words fill Curly with the hottest wave of arousal he may have ever felt in his life. Did Jim even realize how hot and cold he was being?
His eyes went half lidded regardless of the answer, because yes, he wouldn’t mind Jim’s cock in his ass for his birthday. He didn’t want to think about why Jimmy wanted to switch things up so suddenly; Curly let himself be selfish for a moment and was just grateful that Jim was still here.
With him.
“Sounds brilliant right now,” Curly breathily laughs.
He’s so relieved when Jimmy pulls him down for another melty kiss, his hands tight in his hair. Jimmy flips them over so Curly’s the one on his back. He leans back too quickly according to Curly’s little oral fixation, but Curly’s eyes certainly appreciate how his abs flex to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the deep rust color of his happy trail.
Curly wants to run his tongue along it and taste the vein that had hidden itself in his pubic hair. Then it’s his chest hair, not overly thick, but even. His almost-pink nipples. He isn’t so hypnotized that he forgets to expose himself as well, and gets to work on ripping off his belt and shucking his jeans. Finally kicks off that wet sock with his shirt pants, too.
There Curly is, fully naked in front of him for the first time ever and glowing, literally, like a comet. Jim has to admit that Curly is gorgeous. But of course he is. Curly has always been blessed.
Curly takes it upon himself to fetch the lube from his bedside table. He’s popping the cap when he thinks to ask, “Wanna do the honors?”
Jimmy smiles nastily. “Give it here.” Curly loves Jim doing everything for him.
He pours the cool liquid over his fingers and reaches between Curly’s legs. It’s amazing how quickly his confidence returned after seeing the stupid nurse’s face among their onlookers. He wants her to see the way his fingers slide between the perfectly round globes of Curly’s ass, so pert and begging to be bitten.
His skin is agonizingly soft and unblemished.
Even now, Curly is begging for his cock with his body, keeping his legs parted for Jimmy with fingers desperately hooked behind the knees. Jimmy finds his hole— some shade of pink that he isn’t feminine enough to describe— and sinks two of his fingers right down to the knuckle.
”Aughhh!” Curly chokes. Did it hurt? Jimmy can make him ignore the pain.
“Shh, shhhh,” Jimmy purrs into Curly’s throat. “You can take it.”
“It’s just been a while,” he agrees with his voice twisted unnaturally high. His breathing is much deeper already and Jimmy thinks he could listen to him like this for hours.
He begins to pump his fingers slowly, feeling how hot and alive Curly is from the inside. And tight, too. He rubs the pad of his thumb over Curly’s soft perineum as he probes; he needs to find the bundle of nerves inside of him that will make him forget his discomfort.
He thinks he’s found it when Curly yelps as if he’s in pain. What a charming sound. Jimmy sets to massaging that spot like a clit and drinks Curly’s cries from his mouth. There’s nothing more gratifying in the world than feeling the captain’s arms wrap around his neck as his back arches up off the bed.
Curly’s cock is so hard it’s purple. He leaves it untouched.
He must be feeling it all the way up in his throat from just Jimmy’s fingers alone. Jimmy pulls back and says nothing, unwilling to obscure Curly’s song. He laves his tongue along the gold column of Curly’s throat instead and tastes his heat, his flavor. He thought about how hard he might have to bite to draw out the blood that he could feel rushing just under his teeth.
He sinks in his teeth without thinking, relishing the way Curly’s body twists away from his. His strangled gasp washes over Jim’s entire body and makes him shiver. He’s always got to be careful about the pressure, though. He licks along the same spot as if to say ‘sorry’ and tastes the tiniest bit of coppery blood.
Jim thinks it’s an acceptance of his apology when Curly’s breathing calms back down.
Curly moves a hand between them, reaching for his own cock when Jimmy violently snatches his wrist and pins it above his head. His face looks a little bewildered then, but he isn’t fighting.
”Don’t. You don’t have to,” Jimmy hums lowly. “Let me take you there.”
Curly nods dumbly, but obediently. Good. Jim levels him with a fierce glare as he releases his wrist, a silent warning that he expected Curly to just lay there and be good for him.
Then he’s back to prodding at his insides, slow as molasses. Curly’s armpit was left exposed by the change of position, and Jim can’t help himself from licking him there too, flattening the hairs there and smelling Curly’s musk. He likes every part of Curly, because right now there isn’t one part of him that isn’t his.
“Wh-what the fuck, Jim,” Curly kind of laughs. ‘Good-natured.’
He stops laughing right away when Jimmy sucks a perky nipple into his mouth. Jim takes to flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue which has Curly’s hips twitching and bucking just desperate for a little more.
”Another finger,” Curly whines. So bitchy. “Please, Jim, I can’t take all this teasing.”
”Yes you can,” Jimmy whispers. “Just a little longer.”
”Fucking killing me,” Curly cries. When Jimmy looks back up there really are tears that threaten to fall, that pretty pink flush traveling all the way down his chest. But even still, he isn’t fighting.
Isn’t this as good as a confession of love? That Curly would lay there and let Jimmy do whatever he wanted to him proves it. It isn’t the kind of thing that requires words. Jimmy knows that when it’s real, you can just feel it. Something as rare, as unheard of as love— unconditional love— he’d been starting to think he would never experience it in his life.
But love takes work. If Curly really meant it, he would have to be willing to learn what Jimmy needs. Some flowers only bloomed in the dark.
The minutes drag on. He tortures Curly by pressing in too hard at times, mouthing at his neck and his chest until it’s covered in vivid purple hyacinths. They would fade, become yellow and then vanish. But Jimmy would always know they were there, and so would that conniving bitch.
Jimmy isn’t sure why he’s even bothering with all this foreplay when he would’ve been happy to stick Curly dry. Doing this seems to have unlocked something in him. It isn’t until Curly sobs wetly above him that he realizes that this was the queue he’d been waiting for.
Such a cute sound. Curly’s voice sounds a lot more youthful than he really is. His throat sounds dry from all the desperate panting. Jim finally withdraws his fingers.
”N-nooo,” Curly slurs with a stuffy nose. It’s wonderful. Just a little prodding was all it took to make Curly his whore.
”You want my fingers back inside of you, Curly?” Jimmy asks breathlessly.
He looks hopeless. Maybe even a little ashamed. Did he finally understand, then? Did he understand what it was like to need someone who wouldn’t just give you the one thing you wanted most?
He really tries to speak, but it must be Jimmy’s face that makes him whimper instead. Jimmy can’t feel his face.
Curly nods his head instead, face wet with tears. Eyes red and puffy. Jimmy can at least feel how it makes him smile like he hasn’t in years, an awkward, rubbery tugging at his cheeks.
He grips Curly’s face by the cheeks and squeezes until his jaw is forced open, then dips his slick fingers into his mouth, sliding them against the tongue that was torturing him not long ago.
His fingers are wrinkled from being in his tightness for so long. Jimmy wants to feed Curly his own desperation.
After a moment, he doesn’t have to hold Curly’s mouth open anymore. Curly learns to hold his own mouth open for Jimmy and lets him work up a lather in his mouth, his fingers cruelly pressing down on his tongue, reaching too far back into his throat until he gags a little. Always careful with the pressure.
Curly even wraps his lips around Jimmy’s fingers after a little while and sucks them like he should’ve sucked his cock. Jimmy takes this for the apology he was owed. And he forgives Curly. He really does.
Curly, bright and beautiful Curly, who loved him and was willing to learn him. Obedient Curly. He deserved the cock he’s been begging for this whole time.
Jimmy slowly extracts his fingers.
”Curly,” Jimmy whispers then. “I think you’re finally ready, don’t you?”
”Mmpgh, please,” he mumbles wetly. “Please, Jimmy?”
Curly had no idea what the sound of his own name did to Jimmy. He’s never said it like that before. He glances back at Anya, hoping she could hear this. Her face is always the same, always that pitiful somber shade of blue. Jimmy thought she should just kill herself.
But this was no longer about her. Knowing she was watching may have gotten him here, but Jimmy had to prioritize Curly, now. Curly needed him. He knew he could be what Curly needed.
He lines up with his hole, rubbing the soft tip against it just to watch as it greedily tries to pull him in. Curly is spoiled rotten. Up and down, slowly teasing the cleft of Curly’s ass, and Curly’s just lying there with his lip pinned between his teeth as he keeps his cheeks pried open like a good wife, his breathing like a stuttering engine.
Jim chooses mercy and finally presses in.
”Ohhh fuck,” Curly chants. He tosses his head back against the pillows with his skin glittering from the sweat and the spotlight. Once Jim is fully seated, he tastes the pool of sweat that had gathered in Curly’s collarbone.
It’s unbelievably tight, hot and squeezing Jim so good he thinks his face must’ve surely gone slack and dumb. He paws fingers numbly through Curly’s hair, trying to keep it from his eyes so he can stare inside.
Jimmy starts to move and the relief is so great he could’ve started crying, except he couldn’t. Hasn’t cried in decades while Curly is hiccupping and sniffling beneath him. Curly probably wanted to touch his own cock so badly, but he was being good. Jimmy believed people should get what they deserve.
[MERCY]
[MERCY]
[MERCY]
“It’s alright now, Captain. Go ahead,” Jimmy speaks, his voice well gristled. “You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead.”
Curly’s gasping wetly as he finally reaches between their bodies to grab himself, jerking himself off quickly, his eyes roll to the back of his head. Jimmy mercifully allows this, and likes watching the way his thrusts have the fat of Curly’s chest rolling over his upper torso like ocean water.
Curly bucks down onto his cock, maybe wishing that Jimmy would pick up the pace. The way he strokes himself is out of sync with Jimmy’s hips, meeting every thrust with a wild look in his eye-e-e-e
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[1234, 1243, 1324, 1342, 1423, 1432, 2134, 2143, 2314, 2341, 2413, 2431, 3124, 3142, 3214, 3241, 3412, 3421, 4123, 4132, 4213, 4231, 4312, 4321]
Daisuke’s standing in front of the food dispenser doing something he knows is… not reputable. But he’s doing it for a good cause! He thought, ‘surely the rules can be broken a little bit if it helps with crew morale.’
So that’s why he’s jamming his finger into buttons on the machine, accidentally generating shit he wouldn’t need in hopes of concocting sweetener. Just one pack! He just can’t stand black coffee despite Swansea’s insistence that the drink was better plain. He’d like to be able to drink it like Swansea does without having to suffer.
And god forbid these codes actually repeat digits. Judging by the recipe book, they shouldn’t, but maybe Pony Express is sadistic enough to have sweetener as the only code with repeating digits. The idea is not inconceivable. He would be here for quite a while if that were the case….
The door leading to medical screeches open suddenly and Daisuke does the only reasonable thing, which is to duck behind the counter with his notebook clutched to his chest. Getting caught stealing could definitely affect his ability to get a good reference from his mentor, and he could not afford to disappoint his mother again.
His breath quickens, the idea that he’s a total screw-up resurfaces once again. Maybe if he got caught, he could smile the problem away? No, no way. He’s so screwed.
Two pairs of footsteps walk in, so he knows that it must be the captain and Jimmy. Swansea doesn’t like to keep much company after all, although Daisuke likes to think he might be growing on the old man. Anya must also be the same way, he thinks. He never really sees her interacting much outside of typical freighter chores, but he’s made it a goal of his to try and play a board game with her sometime.
Because Daisuke could really use a friend and he kind of thinks Anya is the same.
She sometimes spoke to Curly, but Curly didn’t count, of course. ‘Cause he’s captain, and he’s like, really nice and friendly, but he’s got too much authority to call a real friend. But then… Maybe that didn’t make sense, Daisuke reasons. ‘Cause he and Jimmy are totally friends. He’s just too green to tell.
”So you’re just gonna follow me across the ship ‘til I tell you what you wanna hear?” Jimmy’s saying in that gruff, annoyed tone of voice he is so fond of. Daisuke didn’t know what to make of him so he didn’t try.
”Jim. If you were feeling some type of way about it all these years, you could’ve told me. We’ve known each other for ages—“ Suddenly the captain is pleading, but he doesn’t make it far.
”Wouldn’t have changed anything, though, would it? You said it yourself: it didn’t mean anything.”
”That isn’t what I said,” The captain justifies. Daisuke has no clue what the heck they’re talking about, but he’s starting to think he’d have way bigger problems to worry about if he got caught. To hell with trying to steal sweetner; he should not be listening to any of this and he can’t even leave.
”You just like to reframe shit so you’re in the right, Curly. I’ve… come to terms with it.”
”Jimmy…” Curly says quietly. “I’m sorry, okay? Look at me.”
They are silent for a beat, and then the captain continues.
”I didn’t think saying that would hurt you. I miscalculated, okay? I… misjudged. It wasn’t just sex for me, it was…! It was amazing! Because of you.”
Oh?
Daisuke’s stomach is really starting to kill him. Not ‘cause gay people are gross or anything like that; he’s not a bigot. But he’s got a familiar feeling of shame coloring him, like a child caught in grown folks’ business. It’s been a while since he’s felt like this, but he re-familiarized with the sensation real quick. Like the feeling of a papercut.
“Have you slept with anyone else since then?” Jimmy bids. Daisuke thinks that is an awful question to ask at this juncture. If it was his game, he’d reload a save and choose different dialogue. So now his stomach hurts and he’s raptly listening like this is some sort of fucked up space drama.
“…What?” Curly can’t believe his ears.
“Answer the question.”
”No, that’s not fair, Jim.” [You tell him, Captain!] “It’s been years since that night. I had no idea you even thought about it after it was all said and done!”
“And you won’t touch me while we’re on this ship.” [Oh, he won’t touch him? That’s messed up...] “Got that sparkling reputation to worry about, yeah?”
Curly sighs. “You know what? Clock out for the day and cool off. I’ll put it down as sick leave.”
”That’s bullshit—“
“I am not asking you. I’m telling you to clock. Out.”
”Tch… Sure. Whatever you say, captain.”
Jimmy storms out of the lounge then, his work boots quick and heavy against the cheap retro carpet. He slams the door on his way out and suddenly the sounds of the Tulpar doing its thing return to Daisuke’s senses.
And woah. The silence, or lack of it, is like… Kind of oppressive.
Curly sighs again and comes to lean on the other side of the counter, his forehead down on the linoleum. Daisuke would feel bad for him, but all Curly would have to do to see Daisuke is look over, and it’s like his stomach is about to fall out of his ass. But the door Jimmy just slammed is screeching back open, so the captain mercifully turns towards it without noticing Daisuke’s crimes.
“What’s wrong with Jimmy?” It’s Anya’s voice now. “He just hip checked me like I was invisible.”
”Nothing serious. You don’t have to worry about getting bulldozed for the rest of the shift. He’s taking a sick day,” the captain says maybe a little too quickly.
”Hope he’s okay,” Anya replies, a little sarcastic. “Are you doing alright?”
”Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
Daisuke wishes he could scream. After everything he’s just heard, he can’t believe captain Curly is acting like this, but then again… Maybe it made sense. He wasn’t sure what he thought of it.
“Dunno…” Anya clearly isn’t buying it. But mysteriously, she lets it go. “Wanna help me do the inventory count in medical?”
”Sure,” Curly heaves. Like he’s taken the weight from his shoulders and put it aside. Daisuke sorta gets that. “We’ll get it done quick if there’s two of us.”
Anya hums her agreement and then finally. FINALLY. They leave the room and Daisuke is mercifully alone. He stands up quickly and wipes the sweat from his palms on his pants. He cannot get out of the lounge quickly enough.
His quest for sweetner will have to continue some other ti-i-i-i
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Curly bucks down onto his cock wishing that Jimmy would pick up the pace. He’s stroking himself out of sync with Jimmy’s hips for that very reason, meeting every thrust with a wild look in his eye.
“Need you harder,” he confesses, the sound of his own voice sounding taut and dry to his ears.
“You don’t know what you need, Curly,” Jimmy tells him. Is that true? He can’t fucking think right now. “Not like I do.”
Whatever the hell Jim’s saying isn’t making any sense to Curly, but he chalks it up to some kink or another that Jim’s indulging himself in. It’s alright as long as he keeps fucking Curly like he means it. Could be harder, but there’s no question about whether or not Jimmy’s putting his back into it.
His whole body rocks with the motion of Jimmy’s hips, so hard and deep inside him. Curly’s surprised Jimmy’s doing so well at consistently hitting his prostate, having gone into this without expectations.
He wants to cum. He can feel it building slowly. Only a minute or two more of this and he’ll spill all over himself. So close…
But of course, Jimmy has other ideas. In the midst of Curly’s vigorous stroking he shoves his hand over the base of Curly’s cock and squeezes, causing the pressure to build without release. It’s no different than if he had wrapped his hands around Curly’s throat and squeezed, depriving him of the one thing he wanted most. He lets out an embarrassingly strangled whine.
”Not without me,” Jimmy explains as though Curly has the ability to parse his meaning. Jimmy just sounds so husky, his voice the only thing anchoring him to the bed at this point. “Together.”
Curly nods through his confusion. Didn’t matter what the fuck Jim’s planning or trying to say; Curly’s body will only allow him to agree to it blindly.
That’s when Jimmy decides to choose mercy and starts fucking into Curly recklessly. He’s so overstimulated by this point that he’s starting to see stars, but he only thinks of his desire to cum. It’s the only thing he wants anymore.
Jimmy gropes him everywhere. His hips, his thighs. He grips at Curly’s chest, playing with it like a woman’s. Slides his sweaty hand over his flexing abs while the other one maintains a taut grip around the base of his cock, forbidding him from cumming.
When the hand travels back up again he’s shoving his thick, salty fingers back into Curly’s mouth and he can’t help but suck on them eagerly like it would be the thing to unlock his relief. He likes their rough feel over his tongue, hallowing his cheeks as Jimmy uses them to fuck his mouth as well.
”Fuuuck... Curly,” Jimmy moans, hastily withdrawing his fingers and hugging Curly tight to his body. Curly needily wraps his arms around Jimmy’s neck, barely able to breathe. His hips start to stutter and he finally releases Curly from his punishment, pumping his cock for him instead of holding him at the base.
Yes Yes Yes-s-s-s …. … .. .
………
…
Curly blacks out for a moment, but he’s back what seems like only a few seconds later. His body is covered in quickly cooling seed, the liquid lazily dribbling over the planes of his torso and onto the sheets. He’s lightheaded, but so, so, sated.
He looks up from the mess of his body to see Jimmy above him, leaning back to admire what he’d done. He looks so smug, but it just makes Curly smile, almost manically so. He’s exhausted and the excitement from having a black-out orgasm was more draining than he’d ever could’ve expected. What the fuck just happened?
That was… Special.
Jimmy looks off to the wall with all the photos and posters again and lets out a sigh that Curly interprets as him coming back to reality. And the reality was that they just fucked for the first time ever and it felt like it had been a long time coming. Like they should have done this from the start. It’s frightening.
Curly tries for light-heartedness, breathless as he is. “What’s over there that you keep looking at?”
”Nothing,” Jimmy growls, looking back at Curly with hunger in his eyes. But he eventually softens. He looks tired.
Wordlessly Curly reaches forward and tugs Jimmy down to lay atop him with his softening cock still inside.
”You just had to cum inside, eh?” Curly smiles, trailing fingers along Jimmy’s knobby spine. He isn’t really mad.
”You just felt so good…” He explains sleepily, and it actually makes Curly flush a bit. It’s not often Jimmy will give a compliment. Curly could probably count all instances of it on one hand.
But that doesn’t mean Jimmy is irredeemable. Curly often noticed little things Jimmy did to be considerate of him. Jimmy is always the first to notice when something’s wrong with Curly, for better or worse. He knows… Jim’s just a guy that prefers to speak with actions. Jim’s also the guy who’s been with him the longest. He knows all of Curly’s stories, all his triumphs and failures.
Curly understands.
Now with Jimmy fully collapsed on top of him, Curly thinks Jimmy is almost docile. But even now that they had finished, Curly had no expectations for what would come afterwards.
And… No, that isn’t quite true if Curly is being honest. He expected Jim to never want to speak of this and that was fair. He couldn’t let it hurt his feelings, no matter what Jimmy decided to do. Because what he wasn’t expecting was to feel like this afterwards.
He would leave the ball in Jim’s court, so to speak, and they could pick up wherever he wanted to leave off.
When Jim starts to quietly snore into Curly’s neck, he starts to reconsider how he thought the man to be considerate of him. He’d like to shower before crashing here, but… Really, it was only a bit of sardonic irony that made him think that. He felt so much fondness for Jim that it scared him.
He just knew that this wouldn’t happen again. Somehow, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach let him know. So he wanted to savor it. If Jim needed to sleep now, that was okay. Curly would continue to feel their closeness until he couldn’t.
They would have to have some sort of talk in the morning. That was probably going to suck. He would have to broach the topic gently, he was sure. But all of that was okay. He could handle it.
So why did it feel like he was falling into a deep, black pit?