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The sounds of the bar are loud in Jeremy's ears–music thumping, voices shouting over each other in a symphony of laughter, and glasses clinking. So much so that he has to repeat his words to the red headed bartender; two soda waters.She nods, and Jeremy leans forward, elbows on the sticky wood of the bar while he waits. Some song he doesn't recognize plays over the speakers, and he's bopping his head to it when a hand on his shoulder startles him.
Spinning around, smile already stretching, expecting to find the familiar face of his boyfriend, his expression quickly shifts into disappointment when he's met with a lopsided grin, hazy blue eyes and ruffled mousy brown hair. Jesse. One of Jeremy's old hookups, and not one of his favorites.
"Hey Jer," he slurs a bit.
Honestly? The sight of him has Jeremy feeling almost repulsed with himself for sleeping with him so many times. He'd always pull Jeremy's hair a little too hard—which in the right context he enjoys, but now after a few months being with Jean? It's hard for Jeremy to look back at the men he was with without a bit of a shame for the behavior he accepted. Jean tells him not to think that way, but it can be difficult.
Especially being faced with it in moments like this.
Jeremy's face twists into a grimace at the nickname. "It's Jeremy, and hi."
"Been a long time," he starts, reaching up to graze his index finger along Jeremy's cheek. Jeremy flinches away. Not out of fear, but out of disgust. He hasn’t gotten the chance to back away when a hand is on his waist, pulling him close as a whisper is breathed in his ear, "What if we get out of here?"
Jeremy turns his head away, but before he can twist out of the loose grip, Jean is there. An overwhelming presence that has Jesse backing up with wide eyes. Jean says nothing, just glares at him with fury in his eyes. When he finally turns to Jeremy, the gaze softens immediately, a hand on the small of his back and a muttered "Are you okay?"
Jeremy nods, and peeks over Jean's shoulder to see that Jesse has left.
"Who was that?" Jean asks.
The bartender slides over the soda waters then, and Jeremy glances over and grabs them before shifting back to Jean, trying to avoid looking at him. "No one you need to worry about."
Jean steps forward, close enough that Jeremy has to tilt his chin up, and heat rushes to his core at the look in Jean's eyes. "It is if I look over and see someone's hands on you while you're uncomfortable."
Jeremy's heart speeds up. "I'm okay, I swear."
"You were uncomfortable," Jean says, fingers tipping Jeremy's chin up a bit more when he tries to look away.
"Only because I used to sleep with him. Not for a long time though."
"Did he used to hurt you?" Jean asks fiercely, and Jeremy knows he's thinking of Faser, of the bruises after the banquet.
Reluctantly, Jeremy admits, "Not in any ways I didn't ask for."
Jean's expression shifts. "Jeremy."
Jeremy sees it then, the spark. The fire in Jean's eyes that comes when he thinks of Jeremy being hurt. Unable to resist, , he wraps both arms up around Jean's neck, fingers tangling in the strands of hair on the base of his neck. "Jean, I'm okay."
Jean's expression remains unchanged, hand splayed wide across Jeremy's back. So Jeremy leans up on his toes slightly and whispers in Jean's ear, "Let's go home," before pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Jean's eyes slip shut, and when they open again there's a determination set in them. Fingers slotting together Jean leads them out of the bar. Jeremy looks around to see if he can spot Cat or Laila and finds them dancing on the other side of the bar.
He catches Laila's eye, and she smirks at him at the sight of Jean leading him out the door. Jeremy grins back, and Laila nods in silent understanding to not come home for a while.
The warm air hits his skin instantly once the door to the bar clicks shut behind them. Jean still leads the both of them to his motorcycle, handing Jeremy a helmet before the two of them climb on. Jean's expression is dark, hungry.
Something hot races through Jeremy's veins. His knuckles grip the handlebars of his motorcycle so tight they're going white, and Jeremy is desperate to finally get home. As Jean drives, Jeremy can't help but let the hands wrapped around his waist slip under the hemline of his dark blue shirt and dance around the ridges of Jean's stomach, lightly tracing his muscles. They tense and flex under his touch, and it takes everything in him not to let his fingers drift lower, to dip underneath the waistband of Jean’s pants. He can practically hear Jean tell him, "Don't tempt me when I am driving."
Jeremy knows Jean gets jealous, gets possessive. He saw it at the banquet after Faser, he's seen it when Jean used to comment on him smelling of other men, and something about it—the particular spark Jean gets in his eye when he's feeling that way, well, Jeremy loves it. He wants to see that spark catch, to experience the fire and burn of Jean's emotions when he's not holding himself back.
What Jeremy didn't know, is that he would get to see it tonight. Part of him is glad they got their tenderness out earlier. Sex between them has been gentler than Jeremy has ever known. The care and attention Jean gives him, always checking in—and the way Jeremy does the same with him, never wanting to push the other too far has shown Jeremy a new side to sex. One that he finds he loves. The vulnerability, the exploration, the easiness, the trust.
A few hours ago was no exception.
He hadn’t seen Jean in days due to his mother’s demands of him staying home.
The moment Jeremy walked into Jean’s bedroom, he was pressed up against the door, the wood digging into his back as Jean kissed him. It was intoxicating how desperate Jean was after only a few days apart. The squeeze of his fingers on Jeremy’s waist where they just dipped under his shirt had him holding back a whimper.
“Jean,” he whispered against the other man’s mouth.
“Missed you,” Jean answered.
“I’ve only been gone a few days,” Jeremy laughed into his mouth.
Jean’s hands came up, one tangling in his hair, the other gripping his chin. “Can I not miss my partner when he is gone?”
Something light fluttered in Jeremy’s chest at the word partner. The way it holds so many different connotations for them. Jean leaned in again, kissing along the skin of his jaw and down his neck as goosebumps broke out along Jeremy’s flesh. A small whimper slipped out when a warm wet tongue licked a path from his collarbone up to his ear. It wasn't long after that Jeremy guided Jean to the bed, laying him down and worshiping every inch of him. Kissing along all of his scars, hoping to convey how he feels through the touches, before taking Jean in his hand while preparing himself. When Jean deemed him ready, Jeremy sank down inch by inch and rode Jean until they were both on the verge of tears.
But there's other parts of sex Jeremy loves too. Parts they don't share as often, but when they do? Jeremy buzzes so much under his skin he wonders if he'll explode. It's a dangerous game he's playing right now—and he's only here by accident to be honest. Jeremy had no idea one of his old hookups would be out tonight. Shit luck, really. Jean finally agrees to go out—not drinking of course, neither of them did—and he has to watch a man Jeremy has been with before brush his cheek, touch his waist, and lean in close to his ear all before Jeremy had the chance to tell him he's taken. Jean moved in so fast between the two of them Jeremy couldn't hold back his smile at the look on Jean's face. The way Jesse stood wide eyed and unblinking at Jean before apologizing and walking away.
It's late, easily past midnight as they ride down the dark street. The side of Jean's face illuminated under his helmet by street lamps. Jeremy holds him tighter, letting his hands drift up languidly around his body and he can just make out the low and frustrated groan muffled through Jean's helmet.
Once parked, Jean hops off the bike and removes his helmet before turning to offer Jeremy a hand. He takes it, sliding off the bike and removing his own helmet, feeling the burn of Jean's gaze for only a moment before he turns to lead them inside.
Jean wants him badly. Jeremy can tell, and it sends something molten into his core. Their fingers interlace in silence as they walk through the door, and once the helmets are dropped and shoes are taken off, Jean finally, finally, turns around and really looks at him. Jeremy holds his stare, gray eyes piercing through him before a hand comes up, finger hooking under his chin.
"I did not like him touching you," Jean says simply.
Jeremy's breath hitches, "Neither did I."
Jean starts walking forward, Jeremy almost tripping as he steps back until his back hits the wood of the front door.
A breath leaves Jeremy's parted lips, and Jean leans down and swallows it. The press of their mouths is hard, possessive. Jean's hand still under his chin, one wrapped around Jeremy's waist as he pushes him into the door.
"Is this okay?" he asks.
"Yes."
Jeremy closes his eyes, sinks into the feeling of Jean's weight against him, his warm lips moving from his mouth, across his jaw, and down his neck. Jeremy's own fingers tangle in Jean's hair, gripping at the base gently as he whines when a large thigh pushes in between his legs.
"Jean," Jeremy moans, and in return Jean pushes his leg up into his groin where he's starting to fill out. Each kiss feels embedded with whispers of mine mine mine and Jeremy can't help but think how true it is.
He is Jean's, in every sense of the word, in any way Jean wants to have him.
Jeremy wonders if Jean knows that. Knows how much Jeremy belongs to him. After so many months of waiting, being patient, letting Jean take the lead in taking them from friends to something more, Jeremy wants the other man to know how much he's his.
Attraction is easy, simple for Jeremy. He's always found Jean attractive—how could he not? Jean is objectively beautiful. With his dark onyx hair, a bit longer now, his pale skin slightly more sun-kissed after so many months in LA, gray eyes that drag him in like crashing waves every time he catches them. The Jean he first met in the airport all those months ago both the same and yet so different from the Jean in front of him now. But Jeremy has always been drawn to him. His friends even called him on his feelings in the beginning, multiple times. But it's more than that now. Not just a physical attraction. His blooming feelings like a storm—the kind LA never sees. Slow to gather, but once it breaks, there's no stopping it. It pours. You're soaked to the bone, and you don’t care. It’s wild, electric, invigorating.
Jeremy is fully in the eye of the storm now.
"Jean," he whispers, "Jean, please."
"Please what?" Jean answers against his skin.
Jeremy almost doesn't know what to ask for. All he wants right now is to hand himself over to Jean, let him have him however he wants.
"I—I just. Will you," Jean's hand glides up to drag over Jeremy's pecs, another push of his leg and Jeremy whimpers. "Take me, please."
"Take you where, Jeremy?"
Jeremy knows what Jean's doing. He wants the consent, he wants Jeremy to ask for exactly what he wants, to say it out loud—he always does when they're like this. When they've tossed the gentleness aside for something more raw.
"Anywhere you want. Just—" Jeremy rolls his hip against Jean's thigh now, his body taking over, "please."
Jeremy feels the stretch of a smile against his neck, then he's being lifted, legs instinctively wrapping around Jean's waist. The walk to Jean's bedroom consists of tables being knocked, keys falling to the ground, walls being bumped into, and whispers of are Cat and Laila coming home? With answers of not for a while. When they make it past the door and Jeremy is placed down on the bed, bouncing a bit on the landing, Jean leans in close to his ear, breath hot, and says "So you have no reason not to be loud for me, then."
Jeremy lifts his hips up, searching for more. Searching for anything. Jean looms over him, one hand braced on the bed next to his head and he's instantly brought back to the night of the banquet when they found themselves in this exact position. Jeremy still remembers the heat that rushed to his core and spread through his entire body that night at the sight of Jean over him, cross necklace dangling in the space between them. Back then, Jeremy wanted nothing more than to grab that necklace, twist it around his fingers and pull Jean down to kiss him.
And it hits him that now he can do exactly that. Batting his eyelashes at Jean through hooded lids, he reaches up and grabs the necklace. Jean comes willingly, groaning as their lips connect, tongue sliding against the seam of Jeremy's lips as he opens up, letting him in.
"I don't like it," Jean says between kisses.
Jeremy pulls away quickly, forcing Jean's eye contact to check in. "We can always stop if you want to, Jean. Always."
Something shifts in Jean's expression, dark eyes going soft before one hand cradles Jeremy's face, thumb stroking his cheek. "That is not what I meant." He smiles, leaning down to kiss the corner of Jeremy's mouth. "What I meant was I do not like that any of those other men have touched you."
Something flutters inside Jeremy's stomach. A familiar feeling by now, one Jeremy knows well and has yet to get sick of. Part of him hopes they don't go away, that they make a home inside him and flutter about anytime Jean looks at him, or groans something rude in French while watching an Exy game, or says Jeremy's name, laying his accent on thick because he knows it sends Jeremy to another planet to hear it. It took so much for them to get here. Not only here and together like this, but to this point where Jean can let himself want in a way without thinking. In a way where all he's doing is feeling.
For someone who is always so tightly wound, trying to hold himself back from letting things out, the moment Jean does is a sight to be seen. Jeremy can't get enough of the way he looks when he let’s go.
The first time was after the two of them talked about Faser. About the banquet and the bruises. Jeremy pushed the boundaries a bit when Jean started to show those telltale signs. The inflection of his voice, the spark in his eyes as his pupils swallowed his irises. The bite in his voice when he said Jeremy deserved better. Jean's fists squeezed at his sides, and Jeremy couldn't help himself when he goaded him on, begging Jean to show him what he deserved.
The way Jean took him that night was both rough yet tender. Slow but hard rolls of his hips while telling Jeremy how good he is, gripping both his wrists above his head as Jean slammed into him with a wild pace. It was the first time that Jeremy came completely untouched with him.
And Jean loved it—leaned down afterward to lick the mess off Jeremy's stomach before kissing him.
"All I think about now is how you touch me," Jeremy says. "No one has ever touched me like you do. Please Jean, please touch me," he begs.
Jean's length twitches against Jeremy's own where their hips connect, and he's a bit angry they're still both wearing so many clothes.
"Can I?" Jeremy asks, and Jean nods before he pulls his shirt off, eyes drinking in every inch of skin he can see. So enamored with the man above him. It's not long before they're both naked and pressed against each other. The bottle of lube still on top of the bedside table where they left it earlier.
A slick finger toys with Jeremy's rim, a hiss slipping from him as it slides in. Desperation rolls off of Jeremy, his lips begging for more, telling Jean he can take it. But Jean never listens when Jeremy pleads with him about what he can handle.
"I know you can, I know," Jean coos, adding another finger. "But if I am going to fuck you the way you want, I am going to be gentle now. I'll open you up nice and slow, so that it doesn't hurt when you take me."
Jeremy whines in response, shifting his hips down searching for more, but Jean only tsks, whispering praises in his ear in both French and English that have Jeremy preening.
The weight of Jean's body on top of him is comforting as he continues to curl and pump his fingers in and out, every so often hitting Jeremy's prostate and sending him arching up off the bed.
"There you go, so good," Jean says.
Sometimes, when Jean and Jeremy are having sex, Jeremy feels like he could break beneath Jean's words. The goodness he sees in Jeremy that he can't always see himself is a weight that he doesn't know how to carry. Especially tonight when this is all happening after seeing one of his old hookups—reminding Jeremy how stark a difference all of this is for him now. Sex was an escape, a fleeting moment of false connection that he could use to slip away and distract distract distract. To use even to punish himself sometimes.
And now it's this.
Soft words, tender touches, praise. Gray eyes that see him like no one else has before. Someone who will choose him always, no matter what. Someone who will never hurt him, who will always protect him. His friend. His Jean.
"Are you ready?" Jean asks, pulling Jeremy from his thoughts and back to the present.
A nod. But Jean stares at him until he says, "Yes, fuck yes."
Jean makes quick work of rolling on a condom before lifting Jeremy's hips to line himself up. It's slow at first, inch by tortuous inch and Jeremy has to resist the urge to push his hips down, knowing Jean wants to be gentle first.
And he is. So gentle.
Until their hips are flush, and then Jean groans before gripping Jeremy's hips and pulling out almost all the way, just the head of his cock still connecting them. Then he's slamming back in, rolling his hips in a bruising pace. Jeremy feels so sensitive, so full, the flutter in his chest growing with each thrust. Every moan falling from his lips and slipping into Jean's mouth as they kiss sloppily, only makes the feelings inside him stronger.
Jeremy's arms wrap around Jean's shoulders, his body practically bent in half but he desperately needs Jean close.
At this angle, Jean is so deep, and Jeremy can feel him everywhere. "Jean, baby—"
"Look at you," Jean says as he pushes his hips up. "Fuck, Jeremy."
"Harder, Jean. Please."
Jean obliges, the roll of his hips slow, hard, and deep. The bed shaking from the force. Sweat gathers at his brow, a flush on his pale chest that Jeremy loves, his cross necklace swinging with every move.
It's intense how Jean slams into him, and then before Jeremy can process it Jean is rolling them until he's on his back and Jeremy is on top of him. Hands braced on Jean's chest, he drags his fingers lightly across his pecs, across the scars there. He never lingers on them though, toeing the line between not drawing attention to them and making sure Jean knows he loves his body, scars and all.
Jeremy takes over the pace now, letting his body do what it wants. He grips the headboard behind Jean and bounces up and down, both of them moaning as Jeremy's release starts to build. Jean cups his cheek, and Jeremy can’t resist bringing one of his fingers into his mouth, sucking the digit as he moves. Jean groans at the sight, just like Jeremy wanted.
"Jean—Jean I—can I, I need to—" he whines around Jean’s finger.
"Already?" Jean teases, and Jeremy can't help the chuckle that leaves him.
Jean thrusts his hips up, hitting Jeremy's prostate, his cock hard and dripping as he bounces. Finally, Jean wraps his hand around it, thumb sweeping over the tip. It only takes another three thrusts for Jeremy to let go, shooting ropes over Jean's stomach. It's almost immediate that Jean's stomach tenses, his own orgasm hitting him as their bodies start to slow down.
Jeremy falls over him, dropping his weight but Jean still doesn't let go of his cock, stroking it lazily and veering into the oversensitivity that Jeremy loves. Sending shivers up his spine.
When Jean finally starts to pull out, Jeremy whines in protest. Hating the sudden empty feeling. But Jean pulls him into his chest, neither of them caring about the mess there.
Jeremy toys with Jean's necklace while Jean traces small patterns up and down Jeremy's back.
"Was that okay?" Jean asks.
It sends a pang to Jeremy's heart, because Jean can't help but ask. "More than okay, actually. I love it when you get like that."
"Like what?" Jean asks, tipping Jeremy's chin up to look at him.
Jeremy's cheeks flush, "Jealous, possessive."
"I was not jealous,” he insists.
Jeremy snorts. "You looked like you wanted to explode Jesse with your mind."
"Well, if I could, I would. He does not deserve to have ever touched you."
Hopefully, no one else will ever touch Jeremy again, no one but Jean. But it's much too soon to say that out loud.
"Only you, Jean."
"Only me what?"
"You're the only one who gets to have me now. You're all I want."
Jeremy leans up and kisses him, and reluctantly drags him to the bathroom so they can clean up. Once dressed again—Jeremy in one of Jean's sweatshirts, a bit oversized but the perfect fit—they have a snack on the couch and wait for the girls to come home.
Eventually they stumble in, sending eyes at Jean and Jeremy and teasing them about what they got up to. Jean blushes at Cat's comments, but Jeremy can't help but look at him with so much endearment.
Jeremy cuddles into Jean's side a bit more as the four of them stay up and chat into the early morning.
It was a good night, and Jeremy thinks he might be the happiest he's been in a long long time.