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sheepish-uwu · 5 years

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Early mornings: soft and tender

thermite/jackal l 5.6k words l EXPLICIT/NSFW l smut & fluff l also on A03!

Thermite has always thought that anything life gave him couldn't surprise him at this point anymore, and yet a certain Spaniard always seems to catch him by surprise regardless.

Not that he was complaining. Every moment, even if it was something presumably irritating (like being woken up at 5 in the morning), did nothing to falter their growing love.

If there was one thing Jordan has learned from his 35 years of life, it'd be that the best way to go through anything was to just roll with it. Life has always been full of both punches and caresses, and honestly at this point Jordan has lost all inhibition to fight against fate. Nothing surprises him.

Or at least that’s what he would say if there wasn't a warm comforting presence pressed against his back radiating a soothing temperature that, paired with the rough yet oddly gentle hands teasingly rubbing rhythmic circles on the exposed hip threateningly low to his crotch, sent screeching indecipherable alarms in his discombobulated half-asleep monkey-brain that had suddenly jostled him awake.

Jordan let out a surprised breathy whimper when he felt fingers trace up his soft fluttering belly, an index finger playfully teasing the dip in his navel before continuing upwards to circle the flesh around his nipple, the sensation easily overwhelmed by the other hand still on his hip threateningly close to his crotch — intangible, but faint enough to still steal the little air he had left in his lungs away. Being awoken in the middle of the night from something like this was admittedly unexpected but honestly, knowing the sleazy Spaniard he’d come to know and love, it shouldn’t be a shocker. Jordan, of course, wasn’t complaining, but it was still one of those moments that made him doubletake in shock, though he could blame his confusion on the dumbified state of his drowsy mind.

“You couldn’t wake me up with a sweet little bed and breakfast?” Jordan grumbles half-heartedly, letting out a tired groan in protest when Ryad pushed aside the thick bed covers bundled up around their legs, the frigid air of the room hitting him like a speeding semi-truck almost immediately. “You’re old-fashioned and romantic like that.”

“It’s 5 in the morning, Jordan. Too early for breakfast and besides,” Jordan shivers when he feels a hot breath ghost tantalizingly on the sensitive skin of his exposed neck, the feeling sending a tingling sensation that rushes throughout his body. “I want you, Cariño.” The licentious Spaniard behind him says as if he hadn’t already had him earlier in the night and countless times before then throughout their relationship, but that knowledge doesn’t quite render in Jordan’s dazed brain as soon as chaste lips press fleeting kisses on the side of Jordan’s vulnerable neck, the American keening and stretching his neck to provide more room for the affections, lavishing in the loving gestures like a sunbathing cat; mewling and stretching out when the hand still circling his hip snakes down into his loose boxers to grasp his half-hard cock, the member twitching in interest when Ryad also takes that moment to pinch the nub of a nipple while simultaneously rubbing the slit of the head of his cock.

Letting out a sharp exhale, his toes curling subconsciously as Ryad begins to lazily stroke his hardening dick, Jordan replies: “you already have me, ‘dontcha? Besides—” Jordon groans, shifting and writhing in the tight embrace when Ryad continues to rub the sensitive head of his cock, the sudden stimulation overwhelming and causing Jordon to let out a loud gasp. Damned libertine. “If you keep up this libido my dick is gonna’ shrivel up and fall off if you keep pestering the poor guy like this.”

The low sultry chuckle from Jordan’s joking statement resonates deeply; the low rumble making his heart flutter and heat spread straight to his interested crotch. Suddenly, the attention on his dick stops and Jordan nearly implodes from his newly built-up desire and rage.

“Do you want me to stop?” The Spanish devil asks nonchalantly, his tone laced with amusement and slight concern.

“Oh, you better not now.” Jordan nearly hisses, thrusting experimentally into the hand still loosely enclosed around his cock, and nearly buckled over in a fetal position when Ryad gives a light squeeze on the shaft in response to his desperation.

“Wonderful,” Ryad purrs, pressing a soft appreciative kiss on the corner of his mouth that Jordon chases eagerly, shifting upwards as Ryad rises next to him on the bed before falling back on the soft mattress, his body going pliant as Ryad presses the palm of his hand back against Jordan's chest, murmuring tooth-rotting sweet words huskily in his mother language, breath ghosting the shell of Jordan's ear, the touch producing a phantom sensation that lingers when the Spaniard moves away, traveling to the end of the bed and kneeling between Jordan's legs. The sultry rumble of foreign words were deep and mellow, honeyed from the lilting accent that became increasingly more apparent the more ravished Ryad became and honestly, paired with the libidinous tone of voice, Jordan was willing to give up his right arm to be able to understand a lick of what the suave Spaniard between his legs was saying.

“ Damn,” Jordan whispers breathily, meeting Ryad’s sly eyes when he peers over at him curiously from behind his crotch, the erotic sight a promise of what was to come soon - a thought incredibly appealing and captivating to his tarnished mind. “You’re makin’ me wish I paid attention to my highschool Spanish class.”

Ryad laughs, a mischievous glint glistening the whiskey-brown eyes that turns Jordan into a burning pile of mush. “Oh? Fancy a little roleplay in the bedroom then, hmm?” Ryad muses jokingly and, layering on a more authoritative tone before Jordan can refute, continues jokingly: “Jordan… I’ve noticed you’ve been struggling quite a bit in my class. Is there something keeping you distracted? Perhaps we should discuss it some time, hmm?”

Suddenly, Jordan regrets speaking. Hell, he regrets learning to speak a language at all. “Oh my god. Ryad, no-- ”

“That’s Señor Ramirez to you.” Ryad corrects, the persona he’d suddenly developed cracking as an amused grin breaks his pseudo facade, his dark mirthful eyes averting to the obvious tent in Jordan's boxers that makes a surge of arousal pool low in his gut.

“You’re a fucking riot.” Jordan mumbles light-heartedly, staring fervently at his boyfriend, scorching desire flooding his system when Ryad pulls down the waistband of his boxers, exposing himself to the piercing gaze of the Spaniard and the cool air of the room when he timidly spreads his legs, the position very inescapably exposing and inducing slight embarrassment that clashes with the growing arousal.

Ryad doesn’t reply. Instead, seeming determined to prove Jordan right, he peers over to give teasing licks on Jordan's cock, collecting the drops of pre-cum dribbling down the shaft before moving to the tip, darting his tongue out to toy with the head of his cock and pressing against the slit - all while maintaining hungry eye-contact.

Jesus fucking christ.

Jordan inadvertently mewls, arching his back up to search for more contact like a touch-starved dog without explicitly thrusting straight into Ryad’s face.

He takes it back. Ryad isn't a riot. He’s a goddamn tease.

“Ryad, baby, my love, sugar-darling— please.”

Ryad tuts him playfully with a shake of his head, letting out a pleased chuckle when abhorrence flashes across Jordan's desperate face. “Patience is a virtue, Jordan.” Ryad replies as if he was in any place to remark on morality or virtue when 10 seconds ago his mouth was on a fucking dick.

Jordan wants to fight Ryad for getting him all riled up and purposely leaving only fleeting barely satisfactory touches but he can only grumble out a mumbled “ virtue my ass- ” before immediately cutting off with a surprised, loud, and somewhat embarrassing moan as he’s suddenly bombarded by an unexpected wet heat that envelops his cock, unintentionally causing Jordon to thrust up into the new environment that earns him a glare and a sharp slap on the thigh for his bad manners.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry.” Shaking fingers run apologetically through Ryad’s short dark hair, brushing through the thin locks before gripping onto his head when Ryad tries to take him all in in hopes of steadying his merciless pace. Otherwise, this would all be over disappointingly soon.

But Ryad is unrelenting, leaving no room for Jordon to take a breather as he delivers nothing but mind-fogging pleasure with his mouth, substituting the length he couldn’t reach with languid strokes with his hand, the stimulation teetering on the brink of overwhelming.

Risking a peek to the undeniably filthy sight, Jordan peers down through half-lidded eyes to meet the dedicated gaze of Ryad; his eyes glossy and prickling with tears that threaten to spill downwards, lips spread almost sinfully around the base of his cock - a ravishing sight for the gods that will be forever imprinted in his mind and worshipped accordingly. Love radiates off the Spaniard as he stares longingly at Jordan, adoration prevalent through his passionate gaze and a gentle hand rubbing along his inner thighs where he’d been slapped shortly before.

“Christ, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Jordan says through a deep heavy breath, a sudden longing tugging at his chest to pull Ryad off his dick and kiss him, though he’s not quite sure he could trust himself not to fall over in the process. The diligent tongue tracing the underside of his penis already makes his whole body shake and quiver like a leaf.

Jordan stretches his body to hide his face in the soft haven of pillows and sheets that muffle the tentative whimpers that escape his throat when he bites into them. Closing his eyes, Jordan allows himself to be swept up in the sensations: the sweet slick sounds of Ryad’s contact, the abundant pleasure sending shocks of pleasure spreading throughout his entire body rendering him in a writhing mewling state of utter bliss, the stimulation ambivalent and bordering a thin line between too much and not enough. He’s teetering on the edge, balancing on the brink of climax and trying to hold himself back, mildly fearful of finishing so quickly despite how adamantly Ryad was determined to get him over the edge - and fuck it, why fight against the revelating sensations Ryad’s trying to bring?

“Oh god, baby I'm close, so close.” Jordan gasps out, the unmistakable feeling of tense muscles contracting and flutter reign heavy on his mind alongside a blinding pressurizing pleasure building up hot and heavy in his crotch. He’s close - so very close - he can practically feel it with the pressure building up in his balls.

But Ryad suddenly pulls off, grinning when Jordan practically whines in both surprise and annoyance, blinking innocently when Jordan glances over to shoot him a confounded glare.

“Hi.” Ryad says impishly, his voice hoarse and disheveled that nearly makes Jordan cum from his wrecked state alone, rubbing off the spit and tears that had dribbled down his smirking face. Ryad moves up on the bed, leaning over to press open-mouthed kisses on his stomach trailing upwards to meet Jordan's eager lips in a hungry kiss that devours their low moans, and Jordan can practically taste himself on the Spanish man’s tongue with every swipe, the utter filth of the act weighing heavily in his mind as Ryad practically devours him in their heated make-out.

“Hi.” Jordan replies far less mirthfully, shaking when the Spaniard pulls away, the taste and feeling of Ryad’s tongue and lips still prevalent, the aftertaste savorable. Jordan desired more, vaguely disappointed when Ryad instead cups a cheek gently, affectionately tracing indecipherable shapes when Jordan hesitantly nuzzles into the touch. Then, only half-jokingly, Jordan muses: “You just gonna’ blueball and leave me all high and dry like that?”

“Sorry princesa , but here -” Gingerly, Ryad takes one of Jordan's hands, pressing the palm against the sizable bulge on his crotch, letting out a deep exhale through his nose when Jordan experimentally molds his hand around the strain of his briefs. “Look at what you do to me. It’s only fair, and I can’t help it you know I just...” Ryad trails off in a low and husky whisper, staring intently at Jordan's hand when he begins to rub his cock through the thin fabric. Then, after a few moments, Ryad continues - voice soft and gentle. No more than a meek whisper that Jordan almost misses:

“I love you.”

Heat flushes on Jordan's reddened cheeks, a strong feeling of pure adoration encapsulating the both of them in a tender veil of endearment that keeps Jordon choking on emotion, barely able to breathe as he gazes affectionately at the Spaniard straddling him, his hand coming low to rest on Jordan's that was still mindlessly fondling him. Jordan would have laughed at the somewhat odd way of hand-holding if it wasn't for the emotional vulnerability that had suddenly afflicted the room drowning them both in unrestrained love, and it wouldn’t seem appropriate for Jordon to laugh about Ryad’s affectionate gestures at a moment like this. Each admittance from Ryad seemed almost cathartic regardless of how often he’d begun to suddenly say it after their first initial “I love you.”

Ryad is a man full of sly devilish charm and Jordan has always been inclined to believe that he could talk his way in or out of any situation. His facades are a part of why Jordan had initially been so fascinated by him - only becoming more interested once he’d managed to strip him of the persona he’d become accustomed to even though he’s only seen Ryad truly relinquish himself a few very intimate times. That being said, Ryad could be a smarmy, avoidant, and repressed individual at times — the initial hurdle of their relationship being the constant “is this really Ryad?” doubt that’d plague his mind, unsure of his truth or reliability — so hearing those small yet incredibly meaningful words would never not be astounding to Jordan.

Jordan moves his hands to rest gently on Ryad’s hips, consciously comforting his sides to ease the tiny trembles that’d occasionally quiver down his body. “I love you too, Ryad.” No pet-names —no sugared down distractions dancing around the impact of the feelings that’d grown onto him all those months ago, only recently finding safety in the criticizing part of his brain to admit it. Just firm closure. Because he. Loved. Ryad. “So much.” He hadn’t quite realized he’d said that last part out loud until Ryad, losing his previous aura of reserved confidence, crumpled over to lay bare against Jordan’s chest to bury his face in the curvature of his neck while letting out small, shaking, barely audible breaths that left Jordan vaguely concerned.

Jordan had just wanted to make sure he knew it.

Jordan watches Ryad from the corner of his eye, marking the strands of dusted greys littering the jet-black hair until he rises wordlessly after a few moments of basking in the soft touch of their naked bodies, the Spaniard promptly leaning over to search the bottom drawer of the bedside table, fetching the bottle of lubricant and a condom - the implications making Jordan's already fogged mind hazy with the miscellaneous ideas clouding his thoughts.

“I want you to take me, can you prepare me Cariño?”

Jordan shuddered, cock throbbing at the phantom sensation of what was to come suddenly livening his senses, the tantalizing thrill leaving him titillated. They rarely switched their roles, setting an agreeable unspoken rule since the beginning. It was an arrangement that left them both complacent and satisfied. Jordan was never picky, and a more repressed part of him secretly enjoyed the attention lathered onto him — and god was Ryad willing to give. Ryad, on the other hand, seemed keen to take immediate initiative from the moment they’d shared their first kiss to now, filling into the more ‘dominant’ role between them — a subconscious quirk he has noticed Ryad taking a liking to, and Jordan wasn’t sure if it was rooted in a deeper repressed control or self-esteem issue. Ryad wasn’t very open to discussions of his past — or at least not in depth — and asking the Spaniard to explain his feelings was even worse. It was like talking to a brick wall.

But then there are times, like now, where Ryad is receptive and open. Perhaps it’s just the early morning atmosphere distorting his perception and tinting his point of view with rose-tinted shades, but the Spanish man straddling him appears vulnerable and open like fragile flora in the midst of a ravaging storm, hanging on by the barest roots.

Jordan takes a deep breath, nodding feverishly as a warming blush heats his face when Ryad hands him the small bottle of lubricant, slipping out of his briefs and disposing of it on the floor next to the bed. Spreading the substance on his fingers gingerly under Ryad’s watchful gaze, Jordan presses an index finger experimentally into the tight heat of Ryad’s entrance, the protrusion making them both let out a soft gasp.

Ryad was tight, the familiar heat constricting the digit of his finger like a vice-grip, sucking him in greedily. The sensation propelled his already debauched mind into further filth, fantasizing how Ryad would feel and look impaled around his cock: velvety walls and discombobulating warmth, paired with his imagination running rampant with images of Ryad squirming on his lap made Jordan weak and slightly impatient.

Jordan pressed another finger once Ryad relaxed around his finger, leaning over to press a comforting kiss against his open mouth when the taller Spaniard leaning over his torso lets out a sharp gust of air at the added stretch.

“ Joder… it’s been a while since I’ve you know, uh, how do you say it...” Ryad says half-mindedly, trailing off as he runs his fingers along Jordan’s chest, playing absent-mindedly with the hair as if searching for a brief distraction. Whether it was from the slight discomfort of stretching or the inescapably strong feelings felt mutually between them, Jordan wasn’t sure. Eventually, Ryad continues albeit far more shakily after letting out a quiet gasp of surprised pleasure when Jordan crooks his fingers a certain way. “Been on the receiving end.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s been a while since I've not been on the receiving end.” Jordan replies with a chuckle, resting his free hand supportively on Ryad’s hip when he feels soft trembles wreck throughout Ryad’s body.

“Oh, is that so?” Ryad laughs huskily, cutting off in another sharp moan when Jordan, just to be safe, presses a third finger into the tight bundle of heat. “I wonder why, hmm? This person must be super amazing and convincing to keep one of Rainbow’s greatest breachers from breaching ass .”

This quip makes Jordan bellow, the roaring laughter with the addition of Ryad’s own low snickering creating embellishing light-hearted energy, relaxing the older man considerably.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’ve just met a certain someone who might be Spanish and might be someone so eye-catching and lovely that they turn me into a bucket of mashed potatoes .” Jordan pauses, hesitantly leaning over to kiss the sensitive area of Ryad’s neck right under his ear, continuing quietly: “He happens to be the love of my life too.”

Ryad seems slightly shaken and overwhelmed, and the expression that paints his face is like a Romantist’s painting: vivid in emotion through the minor visuals, yet starkly hidden and wordless. It induces an uneasiness that swells in Jordan’s chest and spreads like a blistering wildfire, worried momentarily if maybe he’d god forbid gone too far or ruined the mood somehow. But instead of an expected uproar, Ryad bashfully smiles, appearing to almost glow from the comment, his teary eyes full of passion.

“Oh,” Ryad replies, letting out a muffled noise that Jordan belatedly realizes is a sniffle. “He sounds dreamy.”

Jordan nods, retracting his fingers from Ryad, wiping the excess lubricant off on the bedsheets reluctantly with a small grimace before taking the condom wrapper Ryad had grabbed earlier on the bedside drawer next to him. “Yes. I’m very lucky to have him, I can’t imagine myself with anyone else.” Jordan emphasizes, keeping eye contact with Ryad as he tears open the wrapper with his teeth, flaring up with pride at finally being able to be the one to reduce Ryad to a love-sick puddle as he’d done to Jordan countless times before. Jordan could see the appeal.

“Are you ready?” Jordan murmurs sheepishly as he rolls on the condom, lazily stroking his sensitive cock as he watches Ryad arrange himself more comfortably, guiding himself until the tip of Jordan’s cock was barely ghosting his partner’s entrance. It took all of Jordan’s remaining willpower not to thrust up and delve into the tight willing heat laid in front of him.

“Yes, yes, yes, stop teasing.” Ryad replies, the irony of his sentence making Jordan huff amusedly.

“ I’m the tease? You literally left me— oh fuck,” Jordan has to bite his lips to suppress the undoubtedly whorish moan that’d otherwise leave his mouth when he feels Ryad lower himself onto his cock, hot pleasure suddenly enveloping his oversensitive dick. Being denied an orgasm earlier in their intimacy took a toll, leaving Jordan squirming under Ryad’s body, skimming a fine line between pleasure and overstimulation that steals every thought from Jordan’s mind with each passing second.

Ryad chuckles, grabbing the hand holding his hip and moving it up to press gentle kisses on each knuckle, sinking down until their bodies were nearly flush close together. He almost misses the words Ryad says to him, too caught up in the moment of having his boyfriend finally stretched around his cock, his brain screaming an impairing amorous cacophony of Ryad, Ryad, Ryad, Ryad that had almost drowned out his lover’s own speech.

“You’re so easy to rile up, mi amor. You’re like a bull. Perhaps I should start calling you toro, eh?”

“Wow. Such a romantic,“ Jordan says sarcastically with a grin, voice cracking off in a low moan as Ryad gingerly grinds against him, somehow propelling him deeper inside the welcoming heat that catches Jordan momentarily off guard. “You can call me whatever you’d like darlin’ and it’d probably still be hot as hell to me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ryad responds, eyes fluttering shut and groaning appreciatively when Jordan moves his hand to wrap around Ryad’s exposed erection, pumping soft and slow with methodically timed squeezes on the shaft, using the slickness of pre-cum and leftover lubricant to glide over the flesh diligently. Handjobs have always been a bit of a sore spot to Jordan, and often times he was warily self-conscious of the abnormal texture and discomfort his scarred hands might bring to his partner. Yet with Ryad, it was different. Ryad had always been accepting and curious, immediately dismissive to the minor anxieties that’d initially plagued Jordan the first months of their dating and replacing it with confidence.

“Fuck,” Ryad croaks out, voice disheveled and raspy from his keen indulgence in Jordan’s touches, letting out choked out sounds of pleasure that inflame the fire of unrestrained desire coursing through Jordan’s trembling body.

“You feel so good Jordan,” Ryad rises his hips tentatively before lowering himself back down, his back arching in a beautiful convex; his blushed chest pushed outwards on display as he lets out a stuttered gasp when Jordan eventually thrusts upwards to meet Ryad’s movement.

Ryad’s pace falters, seeming overwhelmed between the exhausting exertion of riding Jordan and the intense passionate sensuality, seeming relieved when Jordan takes pity on him and grasps one of his hips to guide Ryad’s movements with angled thrusts that leave the Spaniard squirming above him, babbling breathy incoherences when Jordan times each thrust to the strokes of his lazy handjob. They’re going much slower than usual, partly due to the exhaustion of the early morning catching up to them and the pure tenderness of the love they’d shared earlier rendering them in a honeyed down state of tenderness, not quite looking for a rough quick finish to their love-making.

“We should do this more often -- you know, switch things up a little.” Ryad muses huskily, meeting Jordan’s intense gaze with dark half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah, I could get behind that,” Jordan murmurs, running the pads of his fingertips gently across the sides of Ryad’s tanned body thoughtfully. “And you.”

“Very funny, Toro .” Ryad scoffs playfully, moving his hips in a circular motion when their bodies met once more, seeming determined to get Jordan inside of him as deep as he can, tightening his muscles around his cock to draw out surprised moans from the American with a smirk -- though his pride is easily overshadowed by his own pleasure leaving the Spaniard appear wrecked: messy sweat hair clinging to his slick forehead, pupils blown wide and twinkling with a certain dedication and amour notoriously associated with the Spanish man, and a faint rose-red blush tinting his tanned skin.

Jordan couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, broken between the soft moans that fall from his lips each time their bodies met, conjoined both emotionally and spiritually. The thought brings a wetness that pricks the corners of Jordan’s eyes, his throat constricting as he watches Ryad above him: the fluttering of his body and the twitch of his pretty erection when Jordan rubs the leaking precum around the head, the quiet curses muttered lowly in both Spanish and English filling the room as they both neared completion, the feeling dwelling low in Jordan’s gut and evident with the way Ryad completely loses himself in their act, succumbing to nothing but sensuality and passion.

“Jordan i’m close,” Ryad gasps out as if his upcoming climax wasn’t obvious with the way his legs quiver and shake, eyes appearing to roll into the back of his head as broken moans fill the room. “How close are you, Cariño? I’m so close, please Jordan please, I need you. You’re so good, fuck, you feel so good.” Ryad prattles on mindlessly, his desperation fueling the rampant blaze inside Jordan, because how could he deny the man he loves?

Ryad is the one who comes first painting both of them with hot fluid, letting out a cry in his mother tongue that instills joyful delight within Jordan.

He recognizes the words as “ I love you” .

It doesn’t take long for Jordan to finish after that; a sharp thrust burying himself deep into his lover’s body seals the deal, cumming into the condom with a sob -- the raw emotions taking control of him leaving him shaking from something stronger than a climax, building up a thickness in his throat that leaves a lingering parched feeling that contrasts with the sweat drenching his skin.

“I love you,” Jordan repeats Ryad when his lover eventually lays against his chest after Jordan disposes of the condom, sighing softly when Jordan puts his arms around the Spaniard’s heated body to bring him closer.

Jordan relishes in their afterglow: the rhythmic rise and fall of their heaving chests, mindlessly gazing at each other with sheepish smiles, absorbing the lingering warmth that fills the atmosphere leaving the two men in sweet delicate oblivion to everything but each other. Their euphoria is fragile, like a thin sheet of glass threatening to shatter from the smallest touch, so they remain frozen and practically glued to each other - fearful the smallest movement after their climaxes would ruin the surrounding energy pleasantly forming. The gentle caresses on sweat-slick skin and the unrestrained emotion adorning their faces spoke more words than language ever could, and so the silence was welcomed.

Tender fleeting moments were what Jordon lived for, and he’s come to appreciate their time spent together - intimately or not. Loved ones have been taken from him far too early and, adding salt to a wound, at a point in Jordan's life where his naivety had been so strong he couldn’t appreciate the memories enough. Their time had been stolen unfairly within the blink of an eye, and so any second he has left with someone he loves is treasured.

God knows how much time they had left together. A terrifying and morbid thought, yet remaining forever imprinted in his brain keeping him vaguely fearful of the future as he stares at the bleak eggshell-white ceiling above them, a myriad of imposing thoughts eating away at his vulnerable mind filling an impending fear in his gut.

Anything could happen.

Death was inescapable and loomed over the operators like a stalking shadow, static and inactive -- but for how long? How long until one of them became gravely injured, and moments like these became only happy moments to look fondly back at as a crutch for grief?

Jordan, despite his upbringing, wasn’t very religious, and yet he prayed for moments like these not to be stolen away from him like it had been with his mother and sister.

Gauging the wistful longing intermingling Ryad’s blissful expression, Jordan figures the view point is mutual.

Still, despite as much as Jordan was tempted to, they couldn’t just stay piled on each other like this. Their hot sweaty bodies caused a lingering discomfort and a need for cleanliness, and not to mention that the thought of someone from Jordan's unit barging in unannounced reigned heavy on his mind and eliciting a minuscule spark of fear. Since the base’s relocation, privacy was oftentimes a rarity in his CTU while everyone adjusted to their new change in scenery. Their intimacy was an extremely delicate thing. Perhaps Ryad was right, maybe finding an apartment close by was a plausible thing to do even if it wasn’t as conventional as actually living on base - but hey, it seemed to work for Jack and many others when they’d been in Hereford.

Letting out an exaggerated groan once the warmth of their release has long passed and the weight of Ryad’s scorchingly hot body becomes slightly uncomfortable, Jordan murmurs a half-hearted: “You’re heavy.” whilst goofily jabbing Ryad in the sides with his fingers. In response, the Spaniard decides to press all of his weight on top of him, snickering when Jordan lets out a noise of surprise before delving his face to hide in the crook of his neck to get closer, covering Jordan in a sweaty blanket of Spanish muscle.

His classic stubbornness makes Jordan grin, his dreadful thoughts being pushed to the side to relish in the now. Jordan could worry later when the mood was right and he was alone.

“Yeah, and you stink.” Ryad replies, yet nuzzles closer to him and takes a deep exaggerated breath regardless.

“Oh baby, that’s just my pheromones you’re smellin’. It’s what's makin’ me so irresistible, ain’t it?”

“You’re gross.” Ryad laughs, his amusement betraying the feigned disgust.

“Hey now, you were the one comparing me to an animal. I just added on.” Jordan chuckles, running a hand down the curvature of Ryad’s spine thoughtlessly as he stares off into space. “But, maybe I do need a shower. I feel sticky ‘cause you came all over me and now your body is touchin’ mine and rubbing it all over me like gross man-lotion .”

“I think I’m vaguely offended that you called my cum ‘gross’ and ‘man-lotion’ .” Ryad slurred with a snarky giggle, finger jotting up to spread a droplet of his release across the expanse of his chest much to Jordan’s dismay -- though he was far too tired to protest against it.

“Aww no, don’t be offended baby, I love your man-lotion .”

Ryad wrinkles his nose, moving off Jordan’s body to lay down next to him on the bed in feigned dismay that has Jordan snickering. “You’re a weirdo,” Ryad huffs in amusement when Jordan turns to his side to meet Ryad’s gleaming face.

“I’m your weirdo.” Jordan corrects him with a grin, feeling triumph sprout in his gut when he feels Ryad press a quick peck on his forehead, looking thoughtfully at Jordan.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.” Ryad’s eyes are fond, seeming to have softened up considerably at the implications of his words.

“Do you want to head to the showers before the rest of Rainbow decides to wake up? I don’t want to go the rest of the day smelling like a brothel.”

When Ryad nods, Jordan rises up with a stretch, grimacing at the vague ache in his muscles and the uncomfortable feeling of dried cum sticking blotchily to his sensitive skin, glancing beside him to meet Ryad’s curious expression staring longingly at him.

“Happy Valentine day by the way toro, It just came to my mind. I have something for you later.”

Jordan blinks, suddenly feeling out of place at the reminder -- the holiday previously being pretty uninteresting to him due to his focus on work with the relocation and new controversial operators being a steep hurdle to get used to. Well, shit. He wasn’t sure if Ryad was a materialistic person in a way like that -- had he been expecting something in return?

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot about that holiday. I didn’t -- I don’t have anything for you, so now I feel bad.” Jordan feels heat burn his cheeks at his confession, biting nervously on the bottom of his lip as he pulls a suitcase packed with his supplies from Hereford from underneath his bed to grab soap and shampoo, and also to avoid Ryad’s gaze.

Ryad pauses momentarily, his silence inducing timid anxiety in Jordan’s gut until he feels strong familiar arms wrap around his waist and a loving kiss press against the side of his neck.

“That’s okay Jordan. The greatest gift I have is you.”

Jordan nearly drops his bag of hygiene products, melting against Ryad’s chest as a wave of relief and adoration rush through him.

Ditto, Jordan thinks as he feels Ryad's lips ghost over the nape of his neck, his gentle presence alleviating the tension straining his chest and replacing it with a debilitating love that leaves Jordan feeling useless; basking in the touch of his boyfriend that increasingly puts him more at ease.

#r6s #thermite/jackal #thermite r6s #jackal r6s #fanfiction

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