Chapter 24 #2
“Fuck it,” Jackson said, seemingly more to himself than Elliot, and pulled him into a kiss. “I’m still angry with you,” he breathed against Elliot’s ear as he trailed kisses over his jaw.
“Yeah,” Elliot sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“And I still think something's off with Chris.”
“But you’ll leave it?” Elliot asked. “Please.”
“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” Jackson stilled. “If we’re doing this, then I don’t want you seeing anyone else. Seeing you with that creep at the club…I hated it.”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
“Good,” Jackson grunted.
"You either? I mean…can we be exclusive?"
"Of course, Princess."
“Really?” Elliot’s eyes lit up. “Not even…Stefan?”
“Stefan?” Jackson asked. He looked puzzled. “Austrian triathlete? So innocent it hurts? That Stefan?”
Elliot nodded, a grimace on his face.
“What does he have to do with anything?”
Swallowing, Elliot replied, “You were together for a bit, right? At camp. Like…like we were?” Remembering that stupid photo brought him tumbling back to earth. The rain was running cold down his back now.
“All I did at camp was train and sit around wallowing about you not being there,” Jackson replied, eyes narrowed.
“It’s fine, Jackson. I’m not angry. It just hurt.”
“There’s nothing to be fine or angry about. I don’t know why you think I’d go for someone like him.”
The sincerity in Jackson’s tone and the anger sparking in his eyes gave Elliot pause. He pulled out his phone and navigated to Stefan’s profile. Thrusting the evidence in Jackson’s face, he waited. Rain gathered on the screen as Jackson stared at it.
“That little shit. Not so innocent after all, it seems.” Jackson wiped the screen with his wet singlet then tossed Elliot’s phone back to him. “Nothing happened with Stefan. He tried it on a couple of times, but I shot him down.”
“Really?” Elliot asked. He told himself it didn’t matter, but hope bloomed in his chest regardless.
“Yes, really.” Jackson twirled a strand of hair that had escaped its bobble. “I wouldn't have anyway, but especially not there. Switzerland is… It’s our place. Neutral ground, right?”
Elliot nodded. “Maybe, this can be Switzerland too.”
“The track?”
“Everywhere,” Elliot ventured. His voice was low and hesitant.
“I’d like that.”
The tension finally fell away. Elliot smiled and leaned in, kissing him deeply. Jackson’s hand wandered under the hem of his shirt, tracing the lines of his oblique muscles, and Elliot shivered.
“You cold?”
“Tickles,” Elliot replied.
“Oh, this?” he asked innocently, doubling down on the soft, featherlight touches he was running up and down Elliot’s sides.
“Omigod, I can’t.” Elliot squirmed as Jackson tickled him mercilessly. “You’re such a dick,” he gasped.
Jackson laughed, then he captured Elliot’s mouth in a kiss as he stilled them both. “You love it,” he said as he pulled back.
Something flared in Elliot’s chest. “Yeah, I do.”
Electricity crackled between them, and Elliot was certain he felt a change in the air. It was too much too soon. He rested his chin on Jackson’s shoulder, fingers winding into his wet hair.
“Should have known. Stefan isn’t your type at all.” He’d been aiming for casual, but he knew the hitch in his breathing stopped it from being quite as laissez-faire as intended.
“Oh no?” Jackson said, amused. “What’s my type, then?”
Elliot pretended to think. “Stubborn, great hair, faster than you in a marathon.”
Jackson smirked. “Faster, my arse.” He bumped Elliot’s shoulder. “But you’re right, I do have a very specific type. Very rare. Gotta make sure I keep hold of him.”
Elliot’s ears got hot, but he didn’t look away.
Jackson grinned, and Elliot was falling. He needed Jackson in the worst way.
“Can we please get out of here?” Jackson asked, nibbling on the shell of Elliot’s ear, echoing his sentiments exactly. "I think my fingers have gone numb."
“Yeah,” Elliot breathed. “How far is your place?”
“Like, forty-five minutes.”
Elliot groaned. “Fucking London.”
Jackson glanced around. The track was empty now. He tugged Elliot’s shirt, looking in the direction of the changing rooms.
It was risky, too risky.
“No, Jennings,” Elliot said.
“Why not?” Jackson whined. “It’s right there, and there’s nobody around.”
“Anders could be back any minute. He practically lives on this track.”
Jackson seemed determined now, though. Heat flared in Elliot’s belly as he saw Jackson adjust himself subtly in his shorts. “What, you worried he’ll get jealous?”
“Oh, fuck you, Jennings. Not wanting to get caught has nothing to do with Anders, and you know it.”
“Anders is in a committee meeting for the rest of the day,” Jackson whispered into the shell of his ear.
“Well why didn’t you lead with that?”
“You were being mean.” Jackson shrugged.
Elliot deflated. He nestled his head on Jackson’s shoulder. “Sorry. I do that a lot.”
“S’ok”
“It’s not, though, is it?” Elliot replied. “I keep messing things up. I’m worried. He already thinks we’re messing around. If he finds out we’re doing it here… If he thinks I’m interfering with your training…”
“Is that what we’re doing here, Ell? Messing around? Still? Like…like Rennies?”
“Like what now? Do you have indigestion?”
Jackson flushed. “Rivals with benefits? Is that what we are, then?” His voice got higher. “Just a couple of guys who mess around. ’Cause when you said try, I thought…”
"Jackson, I…I don’t know." Elliot let himself fall silent. He didn’t know what the right answer was. He wanted to be brave and give Jackson everything, but it was terrifying to deconstruct the armour he’d built around himself.
“Right,” Jackson sighed. He released Elliot from his arms. “I need to hit the shower. Come find me if you figure it out.”
Elliot’s eyes met his, and he expected to see anger but all he saw in those clear green orbs was hope. Then, Jackson turned and walked off towards the changing rooms, leaving Elliot alone to wrestle with his own fate.
Sitting on those hard metal stands, letting the rain soak his skin, Elliot was at war with himself.
He wanted to fix this. He wanted to be with Jackson for real, more than he’d wanted almost anything.
Fuck, almost more than he wanted the Olympics at this point.
He knew he couldn’t offer him what he deserved.
He was still trying to reconcile the facts of his past with the fear that clawed at his throat when he thought of the world knowing about him.
Realistically, his father hadn’t been wrong to tell him to keep his personal life on lockdown.
Despite the current makeup of the Olympic team, the athletics world had never been particularly queer friendly.
He’d heard enough slurs tossed Jennings’s way on start lines to realise that.
Without the Olympics, he couldn’t risk his sponsorships, meagre as they were.
And despite Jackson’s endless optimism, it was a very real possibility.
He’d seen it happen before to queer athletes.
The sudden drop in publicity, contracts quietly handed off to someone else.
Jackson deserved someone who’d be proud to be seen with him. Who’d kiss him at the finish line and cheer him on. All Elliot could offer was a secret relationship with a prickly arsehole who would probably still try to trip him in the final hundred metres.
He was a selfish bastard, though, and he’d wanted Jackson Jennings for far too long to let him go now. With more courage than he had known he possessed, he crossed the distance to the changing rooms. He stripped out of his clothes and walked towards the shower stall Jackson was using.
After only a moment’s hesitation, he threw open the door. Jackson had his head tilted up to the stream, water cascading down his body as he stood there. Fuck, he was perfection.
“What are you—?”
Elliot pushed Jackson back gently so he could squeeze into the tiny cubicle. “I don’t want to mess around with you.”
“You sure? ’Cause climbing into my shower kind of suggests—”
Elliot covered Jackson’s mouth with a soft kiss.
“I want to be your boyfriend, Jackson Jennings,” he said. “And if you don’t want that, then that’s ok. I’ll, I’ll….” Elliot trailed off. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Jackson didn’t want to be together. His heart would shatter.
Jackson was kissing him again.
Elliot pulled back. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes, Ell. I want to be your boyfriend.”
Jackson grinned at him, then dove back in for another kiss.
“I’m not ready yet, though, to be out. I can’t—”
“I can wait, Princess,” Jackson replied as he nipped at his throat.
“I can wait as long as you need, as long as I have you.” The warm water cascaded around them as they held each other.
Elliot had the strange sensation that he was suspended in time.
He chased Jackson’s lips every time they separated from his and tried to press himself as close to his body as he could, as if no part of him could bear the idea of not being connected.
Their cocks were rubbing against each other, trapped between them, and Elliot let out a loud moan as Jackson separated them enough to get a hand around them both.
The languid pace of their kisses became more frantic as they frotted against each other.
The slide of Jackson against him, the feel of his hand as he pleasured him, brought him right to the edge.
Elliot bit down harder than he intended on Jackson’s lower lip as his orgasm exploded out of him, and Jackson followed seconds later, his release coating Elliot’s abs for a moment before the water washed the evidence away.
They were quiet for a moment, nothing but the sound of the shower running filling the cavernous space, until Jackson let out a hysterical giggle.
Elliot arched an eyebrow at him, but it seemed it was catching because he could feel a smile tugging at his lips, and suddenly he was laughing too.
They helped each other wash off, giggling all the while, until Jackson switched off the water and reached for his towel.
Elliot hadn’t thought far enough ahead to bring a towel when he’d come to issue his proposal to Jackson in the shower.
He’d been far too keyed up about baring his heart to think through those kinds of practicalities.
Jackson noticed his dilemma and wordlessly started drying him with the towel before wrapping the plush monstrosity around them both. They waddle-walked together into the main changing area, still giggling all the while.
Elliot’s laughter abruptly stopped when he saw Chris Green sitting on a bench in the changing room. He had his phone in his hand and a shocked expression frozen on his face.
“Erm, hi,” he said after a beat. "Forgot my phone," he added, waving the device in the air.
There was no way Chris could interpret this as anything other than what it was. Elliot was standing in front of Jackson, pressed flush against him, naked and wrapped up together in Jackson’s ridiculous towel.
It wasn’t subtle.
Elliot silently grabbed his own towel from the bench, wrapping it tightly around his hips before gathering his clothes in silent frustration.
He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hide his relationship with Jackson; it was so new and so fragile, he was worried he would break it.
But he was also utterly terrified of Chris’s reaction.
Jackson let out an audible sigh, and it made Elliot wince. He’d done that. He’d wiped the easy grin from Jackson’s face and replaced it with a look of unease.
“Mate, could you not say anything about this? Please,” Jackson was asking Chris as Elliot continued to spiral.
It was like his voice wouldn’t come out.
He wanted to tell Jackson it was fine and not to worry about it, but it wasn’t fine, and he was terrified.
He could feel his chest constricting like it did whenever he thought about his carefully crafted facade crumbling.
He could distantly hear Chris and Jackson talking.
Chris seemed to be reassuring him that he wouldn’t say anything, but he wasn’t sure if he was making that up to comfort himself.
The roaring in his ears was so loud now that he couldn’t focus.
Distantly, he thought he could hear soft whispers in his ear.
As he came back to himself, he felt strong arms holding him in a gentle embrace.
“Princess,” Jackson whispered. “It’s ok. He’s gone, and he isn’t going to say anything.”
Elliot whimpered. “Sorry,” he mumbled into Jackson’s chest.
He could breathe again now, but he stayed nestled against Jackson in an effort to avoid eye contact of any kind. He wanted to explain, but it was bloody mortifying.
“Chris won’t say anything.”
“I know,” Elliot replied. “I know he’s not like—” he gestured emptily, hoping he wouldn’t have to say the words out loud.
“He isn’t.”
“And you won’t say anything about him, about earlier?”
Jackson hugged him tighter. “Definitely not. Not now. I won’t do anything that could hurt you, Ell. Never.”
“I hate feeling like this. I’m just really afraid,” he admitted.
“I know.” Jackson nuzzled his neck. “We don’t have to tell people until you’re ready.”
“What if I never am?”
Jackson didn’t miss a beat. “Then we’ll be super sexy secret spy boyfriends forever.”
“That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Hey,” Jackson said, tipping Elliot’s head up to force him to meet his eyes. “Let me worry about what’s fair to me.”
“But one day you’ll want that. You know, finish line kisses.”
“Is that what you think I want? Finish line kisses?” Jackson sounded amused, which was irritating because Elliot was trying to be serious.
Most things about Jackson were irritating, though he liked him anyway.
Liked him too much for his own good, because he was going to eventually have to let him go so he could be with someone who could give him everything he deserved.
“The only thing I want, Ell, the only thing I’ve wanted for months now, is you.” Jackson kissed him on the temple. “Well, and an Olympic medal,” he amended.
Elliot shoved him. “They only give out three of those.”
“Do you not believe in me?” Jackson asked in mock offence.
Looking at Jackson, there next to him, Elliot softened. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Fuck. I believe in you one hundred per cent.”
“Oh god, that’s so sappy.” Jackson laughed. “No one would ever believe what an absolute softie you are, Princess.”
“I take it all back. Your heel flick is too high, and you tense your left shoulder on corners.” Elliot very maturely stuck his tongue out at Jackson.