"And wanting you
to reach out from the dark
to wake up from the cold,
And wanting you is all I can do
Things you never said."
Believe me: Moist
Mike slumped back on the sofa. He was sure he'd heard the doorbell. He thought he even remembered opening the door. It must have been his imagination. As much as he wanted company tonight he couldn't conjure visitors out of thin air. He put the bottle to his lips, tipped and drank. The cheap whisky had stopped burning his throat a while back and he was almost comfortably numb. Almost, but it wasn't enough. The heat of the alcohol was doing nothing to fill that empty void he had inside.
He'd been sent home to 'think about his future' after the incident on the bridge, three days ago. But he hadn't done much thinking. Everything was fucked up. Confused fragments came back to him, splintered like glass. But he couldn't make sense of it anymore; couldn't piece his life together from the shrapnel it had become. He'd thought he was doing the right thing, bringing Jack back. But now he didn't know if he'd done it for Kirsty or for himself. Jack was right. You couldn't give up on a friend after ten years. He couldn't leave him to 'God knows what' oblivion in some prison come storage facility. Not after all they'd been through together.
Thinking had become too difficult now. The drink helped him to unconsciousness, if not sleep, but that was all.
He'd gone out today for the first time, but only as far a the corner shop for another bottle and some fags. He should have got some films too, skin flicks, to give him a bit of relief from the stress and loneliness - it'd always helped before. He smiled ruefully. That was one of the advantages of being a copper <ex-copper he corrected himself> you could always get what you wanted in that line, however unusual your tastes were; men, women, children, animals. Not that he was interested in children or animals. Sometimes it was good for a laugh but it didn't turn him on. He had more 'normal' tastes.
He'd known since adolescence that it didn't matter if they were men or women. They just had to be 'the type'; slim, blonde androgynous looking, soft mouths, heavy 'come-to-bed' eyes. That was what really got him off.
Jack had caught him at it once. A stack of confiscated porn at his side, video remote in one hand, his John Thomas in the other. It'd been young men that time - not boys; he liked adult bodies. He thought he was done for, that Jack would ask for a transfer, thinking he was a 'shirt-lifter' even though he'd never actually acted out his fantasies. He'd gone soft really quickly, stuffed it back in his trousers, his face red with embarrassment. And all Jack had done was laugh, light sparkling in his eyes.
"Is there something you're not telling me, Mikey-boy?" The maddening, sexy smile had been aimed directly at him.
"Umm…Christ, I don't know what to say."
"Don't worry, boy. It'll be our little secret." Jack had patted him on the fly, all the while leering like a perverted schoolmaster.
He'd found himself rooted to the spot, the heat of Jack's hand burning through the fabric to his skin. It'd been over in seconds, laughed off, never mentioned again. But the touch of his friend's hand had stirred all sorts of long buried feelings in him. Jack had left it there just a fraction of a second too long, he was sure of that. And what if...what if he'd gone on.
He took one more swig from the bottle, then placed it, with the exaggerated care of the newly drunk on the coffee table.
What if he'd stayed that night in the evidence room? He felt his cock hardening at just the thought. He reached to press the flesh through the denim. Not too fast now, he wanted to make this last. Memories and dreams were all he had of his past he didn't want to use them up in one go.
He went back to that day, Jack's hand on his fly. Imagined the heat, the pressure, his body hardening again under the cloth. No words, just the arousing rub of his partner's hand, the intensity in Jack's eyes holding his gaze, Jack's beautiful soft mouth slack in passion.
Eyes closed, his hand mimicked his fantasy, rubbing softly at first then harder, dipping slowly to shift his balls to a more comfortable position. All too soon it was too hot, too tight and the hand moved to his belt. He felt like a kid, nervous, fumbling in the dark, trying to get laid for the first time. Finally the buckle gave and he started on the buttons. He was almost there when...a noise like a soft exhalation of breath.
His eyes snapped open.
"Shit!" He struggled to get up...failed. His body felt far too heavy, too relaxed to move.
Jack sat on the floor between his spread legs. Elbows on Mike's knees, chin resting softly on his linked fingers. He smiled.
"You need a hand with that?"
With the street light outside framing his hair he looked like an angel sculpted in flesh. Mike gasped. Somehow the fear was more arousing than it should be. A brief thought of fighting crossed his mind but it was banished when Jack's cool, strong fingers linked with his own. The gentle, persuasive voice spoke again.
"Believe me, I don't want to hurt you. Just relax. You need this."
Mike's throat was dry. He tried to deny his need, tried to say no. But one look from his partner and he was lost.
"Let me." There was no doubt this was a command and not a question. Jack had always been able to get anything he wanted. <Charming bastard. >
There were no more words between them. He wanted to reach out, to kiss that pouting mouth, but his body was held in a beautiful lethargy, all sensation centred under the cool hand wrapped round his blood filled shaft.
He could do nothing but lay back and enjoy it. He'd wanted it for so long. If only he'd known it would be so easy. And this was so right, perfect just like he'd do it himself.
His breathing was harsh now, almost drowned in the pounding of his heartbeat. Then for one perfect moment it was silent, focused, the calm before the storm. He looked down. Jack's mouth was just inches from his straining flesh. Everything was forgotten in an explosion of light as those red lips touched him in the lightest of kisses.
Jack licked his lips, wiped the blood away from the corner of his mouth. It'd been as easy as they said. Who'd have thought it? That's how you made them forget. You just replaced the reality with something they wanted more.
He'd never thought Mike had it in him to go for it like that. He'd though he was content just to watch, too scared to do it. He'd had far too much to drink though. Jack could feel it in him making him slow; warming his skin like the aftermath of sex.
He lifted a heavy hand to his mouth again, paranoid he'd left some trace of his feeding there. Glancing into the hall mirror he cursed, not for the first time, at his lack of reflection. Ah well, vanity was something you had to put aside if you were the future of mankind.