Chapter 13
Jackson
They reached the site they’d camped at the night before in record time, and Jackson started a small campfire, having had the forethought this time to gather the supplies and prepare the fire before night truly fell.
He got it going while Owens busied himself setting up his own tent, the two of them working in silence.
Sparks danced up into the evening sky as he coaxed the logs into a steady crackle.
Owens moved with surprising efficiency considering his inexperience.
Silence hung between them, broken only by the snap of twigs and the hiss of the fire.
Owens stepped closer, letting the heat wash over him. Jackson noticed how he shifted, as though seeking warmth from more than the flames
“Did you want to ring your sister?” he asked, holding his phone out.
Jackson turned to look at him, seeing the firelight gilding his delicate features, making him look ethereal. “I rang after dinner.”
“Oh. Ok then.”
“Thanks, though.”
Elliot nodded. “Switzerland, right?” he whispered. Birds chirped in the trees, and the fire crackled merrily. Jackson swallowed hard. He couldn’t stop watching Elliot’s stupid pink lips.
“We should finish getting the tents up,” Jackson said, breaking the tension.
Elliot startled. “Tents, plural?”
“Yeah.” Jackson indicated his pack. “That’s a new one. The hotel charged me for the damage and made me leave a fucking massive deposit for this one. Probably would have been cheaper to buy my own in town.”
“Oh.” Elliot shifted on his feet like he had something to say, but no further words came.
“I’ll just have to be extra careful I don’t damage another one.” Jackson laughed, trying to ease the strange tension brewing between them.
“Want me to set it up for you?” Owens asked, a smirk twisting his features.
“Ha ha. One night of camping and you’re the expert?”
“Well, I didn’t damage my tent beyond repair.” Owens shrugged.
Jackson didn’t exactly have a retort to that. He went to open the pack. Despite the bravado, he was actually a bit nervous about ruining another tent—he couldn’t afford to lose that deposit. His hesitance must have shown in his cautious movements because Owens made a soft grunting sound.
“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.” Jackson turned, facing Owens. The sun had dipped below the horizon, but the fire bathed their small clearing in soft light.
“We could share again,” Owens said quickly, leaving Jackson lost for words. “So you don’t risk losing your deposit.”
“You want me to share your tent again?” Jackson asked.
“It’s already set up, and it’s dark now and cold. It’ll be harder to do yours.”
Jackson hummed. “That’s a very logical argument, Owens.” He moved closer.
"Plus, there are wolves. I researched. Lots of wolves out here, in the woods…" Elliot swallowed. Jackson watched his Adam's apple bob.
“You want me to protect you from the big bad wolves, Princess?" he asked, moving closer still. He paused in front of Elliot. "Are you sure that won’t be too much for you?” Jackson couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his tone.
“Oh, it will be,” Elliot whispered. “Way too much.”
There was a beat of silence between them. Elliot’s piercing eyes met his as he closed the distance between them in two quick strides, and then Elliot was on him, their lips meeting as he pulled at Jackson’s jacket, dragging him closer until they were practically fused together.
Elliot pushed him backwards, mouth fierce, as if each kiss was burning through something he’d spent years barricading shut.
Jackson stumbled into the tent, dragged along by the fist in his jacket, and the moment they were inside, Elliot crowded into his space again, all hot breath, trembling hands, and the sharp sound of fabric snagging as he tried to get closer, closer still.
Whatever had been holding him back was gone; what was left was need, raw and consuming, pouring out of him faster than Jackson could keep up with.
Jackson could barely think, barely breathe; all he could do was cling to Elliot’s waist and try to keep up as the man devoured him.
By the time Jackson’s brain caught up, Elliot was already mouthing at his throat, fingers curling in the fabric at his collar.
“Are you sure?” Jackson heard himself ask.
“Can I take this off?” Elliot sounded wrecked as he whispered into Jackson’s skin and tugged at his shirt.
“Fuck yes.”
“Eager?”
Jackson laughed. It came out sounding slightly hysterical, even to his own ears. “Obviously.”
Elliot grinned and kissed him again, only pausing to shuck his shirt and toss it into the corner of the tent.
Jackson made quick work of his own shirt, then flipped them over so Elliot was lying flush on top of him.
He groaned at the friction and fumbled to kick down his tracksuit bottoms while tracing his hands over the deep cut of Elliot’s abs.
He pulled back to look at him for a moment, completely certain this couldn’t be real.
Then he reached up and gave an experimental tug on Elliot’s hair as he licked down his neck and was rewarded with a low groan. Interesting.
Elliot ground down against him, and it was pure torture. His frantic pawing had ceased though, leaving space for something heavier, something that burned between them. Jackson wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted someone the way he wanted Elliot Owens in that moment.
“Can I?” Elliot mumbled between lips and nips to Jackson’s skin. “Can I taste you, Jennings?”
“Oh god, yes.”
Elliot shimmied lower, yanking Jackson’s underwear down in one swift motion to reveal his hard cock, precum already weeping from the slit. He rocked back on his heels and stared for a moment.
“You just planning to look at it?”
“Fuck you, Jennings,” Elliot replied. It sounded almost like a reflex.
“I mean, yes, any day now, please.”
Elliot didn’t seem to need any more encouragement.
He lowered his head, nuzzling Jackson’s balls before licking a strip from root to tip.
Jackson found himself sinking into the feeling, like he’d been waiting for it for years.
Elliot suckled on the head of his cock for a moment, and the action drew a gasp from Jackson as he gripped the sleeping bag beneath him tight.
Then Elliot fucking Owens swallowed around Jackson’s cock as though he knew exactly how good he was at this.
The sounds tumbling out of Jackson’s mouth might have embarrassed him had he been the type to embarrass easily, or had they not been alone in the middle of the woods.
Elliot started to let his hands wander, fondling Jackson’s balls, then back further over his taint, then just lightly brushing his hole with the tip of a finger.
It was far more forward than Jackson had expected from Owens.
Jackson’s whole body jerked upwards when Elliot touched him there, making Elliot cough and pull back.
“Fuck. Sorry, sorry,” Jackson muttered.
Elliot’s glazed eyes met his. “Was that not ok?”
“Oh my god, it was ok, very ok,” Jackson babbled. “Please, again, more.”
Elliot grinned up at him, then sucked a finger into his mouth before dipping his head.
He swirled his tongue over Jackson’s tip again, teasing as his fingers pressed gently against Jackson’s hole.
Then, as he went to swallow him down again, he pressed one finger in.
He slid it in and out, crooking it at just the right angle each time to make Jackson see stars.
He sucked and licked at him, flattening his tongue against Jackson’s frenulum and working his fingers to the same rhythm.
Before he knew it, Jackson’s whole body was spasming, and without a second to utter a warning, he was coming straight down Elliot’s throat with a shout.
His chest was heaving as though he’d run a tempo session as he slowly came back to earth from the most intense orgasm he’d had in recent memory.
“God, Ell, sorry I didn’t warn you, I…” He trailed off. He didn’t actually want to explain how fucking incredible that had been.
“Jennings, that was hot. Don’t apologise.” Elliot crawled up next to him, the sleeping bag bunching up beneath them, giving Jackson perfect access to tilt his chin towards him with his hand and kiss him deeply.
“I… Give me a minute and I’ll return the favour.”
“You don’t have to,” Elliot replied. “I’m so fucking close. I need…”
Jackson spat in his hand, then reached down to wind it around Elliot’s length. He stroked him roughly as he pushed his tongue into his mouth. It only took a minute before Elliot was coming all over Jackson’s hand, eyes shut and body shaking with the force of it.
They lay there in silence for a beat, curled around each other, sharing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses until the sensation of drying cum became a bit much. Elliot fished around in his bag for tissues, drawing a laugh out of Jackson. “There are wipes in the outside pocket of my pack.”
Elliot huffed at him, but he did gingerly move over to Jackson’s pack and pull out a pack of wipes with a smile. He cleaned Jackson’s stomach and hands attentively.
“Are you okay?” Jackson asked tentatively. “I didn’t mean to push.”
“You didn’t, Jennings. I’m not some blushing virgin. Don’t overthink it,” Elliot replied as he wiped himself off. “We should sleep,” he said when he was done. “Need to get some rest for tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Got to prove to Anders that we kissed and made up.”
Elliot snorted.
Jackson sat himself up and poked his head out of the tent. The cold air made his cheeks burn.
“What are you doing?” Elliot’s voice cracked.
“I’m just going to put the fire out,” Jackson replied. He made quick work of it, then returned to Elliot’s side. The man seemed to curl in on himself, almost hesitant, but he still let Jackson zip their sleeping bags together and pull him close.
“Body heat,” Jackson insisted. He knew it was nothing more than a hookup, an overspill of the tension that had been simmering between them, but something about this moment felt bigger than any other hookup he’d ever had.
Jackson expected things to be awkward in the morning, like the day before had been.
This was Elliot Owens; he’d never met a situation he couldn’t make uncomfortable.
But Jackson was determined not to let him.
Because the problem was, now that he was starting to understand him, to spend time with him away from the pressures of everything in London, he was starting to like Elliot.
Like, really like him.
And that was…probably not good. Jackson always fell hard and fast, and he knew he was setting himself up for a world of regret.
Especially because this wasn’t entirely a new phenomenon.
He’d been developing an unhealthy interest in Elliot Owens for a while, if he was honest, and he wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.
Even when he’d been avoiding him, he’d found the man fascinating.
He was worried that whatever tentative thing was happening between them—rivals with benefits?
Rivals with Bennies? Rennies? Jackson tried to stop his brain from derailing; he was pretty sure that was a brand of antacids.
Regardless, he was worried this thing would end before he had a chance to figure out why he was always so affected by Elliot Owens.
Because he knew, without a doubt, that the second he woke up, Elliot was going to try to write this off as a one-time thing; as momentary madness.
He could already feel him pulling away, even in his sleep, picture his eyes going cold as he relegated Jackson back to the status of an irritating fly.
Jackson didn’t want to let him do that. They had three weeks left here; there was no reason they shouldn’t make the most of them. He wrapped his arms tighter around Elliot’s body, and Elliot shifted as he began to wake, dragging his arse deliciously over Jackson’s morning wood.
“Well, good morning to you,” Jackson whispered as he let his hands roam over Elliot’s chest.
Elliot groaned as Jackson pinched his nipple gently. “Jennings.”
“Yes, Owens?” he asked innocently as he continued his ministrations.
“We have training. We have to get back.”
Jackson hummed in agreement, trailing his hands lower. “Are you going to be nice to me at training today?”
“Absolutely not,” Elliot groaned. “I don’t do nice.”
Jackson let his hands fall away. “That’s a shame. I’m nice.”
“Ok, I suppose I can do nice, just this once,” Elliot replied as he turned, facing Jackson and kissing him hard on the mouth. Surprised but eager, Jackson returned the kiss with vigour as he took Elliot’s cock in his hand.
Pulling back, he laughed lightly as Elliot gave a disappointed mewl. Jackson wanted to get his mouth on him—it wasn’t fair that he hadn’t had a chance to taste Elliot last night.
“No one can know about this,” Elliot whispered.
Jackson grinned. “That implies there’s something to know about.”
“I’m serious, Jennings. The press back at the hotel, Anders… I can’t risk anything getting out. This has to be it. Once we take that gondola down, we’re less than nothing.”
Jackson didn’t want that, but he’d follow Elliot’s lead if that was what he needed. He was an expert at ignoring Elliot Owens, or at least pretending to.
“I know. Now, stop worrying and let's enjoy the privacy while we’ve got it,” he said as he kissed the inside of Elliot’s upper thigh and felt the blond melt against him.