Chapter 27 #2
A grin lit up Jackson’s face. It disappeared quickly, though, the weight of why they were both there clearly never far from his mind.
“Now, Elliot, dear, I hope you’re hungry. I’m putting a curry on, a new recipe from our neighbours.”
Elliot flushed. “That sounds lovely, I’ve never tried curry before.”
Both Jackson and his mother were gaping at him. “You’ve never tried curry?” Jackson asked. “You live in London.”
Elliot shrugged. “I’m always on a nutrition plan.”
“This is an absolute travesty. Mum, we have to correct this. This has to be the greatest curry ever made.” Jackson went into a tall standing cupboard and pulled out two aprons, tying one around himself as he passed the other to his mother.
“You’re going to cook for me?” Elliot asked.
“I’m Mum’s best sous chef.”
“Of course you are, dear.”
“But you…you get takeaway or meal deals every single day.”
“It’s convenient,” Jackson replied, shooting him a look of utter betrayal as his mother tutted disapprovingly.
Elliot was going to make Jackson cook when they got back home.
For his part, he didn't know how to make anything other than scrambled eggs or basic chicken and veg—a remnant from his relatively privileged upbringing that he wasn’t currently sure had given him quite as many advantages as it was meant to have done.
He sipped his tea in silence, watching Jackson and his mum move around the kitchen in a well-practised dance.
Noah’s laughter filtered in from the front room, and he felt content.
This was family as he'd never seen it before.
A landline rang, and Elliot was momentarily charmed to see that they still had one. The room stilled in anticipation as Jackson’s mum spoke into the handset.
“Thank you,” she said as she finished the call and turned to them. “They’ll allow visitors from tomorrow,” she announced before whispering to herself, “We can see him.”
Smiles erupted on the faces of every one of them as the news registered. Beth leapt on her mum, a wide grin on her face.
Jackson wrapped Elliot in a hug, burying his face in Elliot’s shoulder as he sobbed. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m happy, I swear.”
Elliot traced slow circles on his back as he let it all out.
When the group eventually made it to the table for supper, it was as though something had lifted.
Conversation flowed about who would get to visit their father first, and laughter came easily as they recounted his exploits and argued over what to take him to give him a break from the drab hospital menu.
Elliot listened to it all with his knee pressed against Jackson’s and his heart full.
That night, snuggled in Jackson’s bed, Elliot and Jackson continued the conversation in whispers. Elliot eked out a promise from Jackson to cook for him again in London.
“That was amazing, what you did today, you know?” Jackson said softly.
“I just told them the truth.”
Jackson kissed him, pulling him into his arms. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t just for you.”
“I know.”
Elliot kissed him this time, his tongue pushing into Jackson’s mouth. He chased his lips as Jackson pulled back, feeling the absence of them far too keenly.
“So,” Jackson said, pulling away. “I want to talk.”
“Yeah, we should…talk.” Elliot sighed.
“I should have told you what was happening,” Jackson started slowly. “When Bethy rang, I panicked. I was on the train before I even messaged Anders.”
“You don’t have to apologise for that, Jackson. I just wish I hadn’t had to find out you’d gone from Anders.”
“When’s he expecting you back?”
Elliot shrugged. “I don’t think he’s expecting me at all.”
“What do you mean? What happened?” Jackson asked, genuine confusion in his voice.
“He sort of told me to come here, I think.” Elliot looked away.
“Oh, were you not going to if he hadn’t?” Jackson asked. There was something strained in his voice.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to,” Elliot replied. “I thought I might make it harder with the hiding and the secrets.”
Jackson snorted. “You mean the secret you kept all of ten seconds before blurting it out to my whole family?”
“I was pressured by Noah.”
“He’s three.”
“Exactly.”
“I would have kept it quiet if that was what you wanted. You know that, right?” Jackson asked.
“I know,” Elliot replied, because he did. But he knew Jackson Jennings too. Knew him as an opponent, as a teammate, and as a lover, and he knew he couldn’t lie for shit.
“I love you, Elliot Owens.” Jackson kissed him.
Elliot smiled into it. “I love you too, Jackson Jennings.”
They snogged in Jackson’s childhood bed for a few minutes before Jackson’s hands started to wander, tracing the curve of Elliot’s arse.
“Stop it,” Elliot hissed. “We can’t do that here.”
Jackson ignored him, but Elliot was serious. His whole family was here; they could hear them or something.
“Ell, you can’t really expect us to be celibate the whole time we're here. It could be days, weeks.”
It didn’t sound ideal to Elliot either, but Jackson’s mum was sleeping two doors down.
“I lived in this house as a teenager, Elliot. I promise you they have heard stranger things from this room than me having sex with my boyfriend.” Jackson laughed quietly. “Besides, I think you can be real quiet. Can’t you, Princess?”
Fuck. Jackson hadn’t stopped his ministrations while he’d been making his case, and Elliot was hard enough to cut steel.
He only hesitated for a moment before he nodded his assent.
“Good boy,” Jackson whispered before licking into the shell of his ear. Elliot’s cock twitched, and he stifled a moan by biting down on his fist.
Jackson manhandled him until he’d managed to flip Elliot over—a challenging feat in the tiny bunk the two of them barely fit in, but now at least he could smother his moans with a pillow.
Jackson held him gently in place as he kissed a trail down his spine from the nape of his neck all the way to his tailbone.
They were both utterly silent. The only sounds were the soft creaking of the bunk beds as Jackson moved lower and the faint hum of conversation. It sounded like a television on low volume, coming from across the hall.
Elliot allowed himself to lift up on his forearms and twist to watch Jackson, who shot him a wicked grin.
Jackson palmed his cheeks, gently separating them before diving in to lick his crack.
“Fuck,” Elliot exclaimed, far too loudly, before throwing himself back down on the pillow to stifle the noise, although he was pretty sure the damage had already been done. With Jackson’s tongue pressing insistently against his hole, though, he was also pretty sure he didn’t give a single fuck.
“Shhh, Princess. Need to be quiet.” Jackson paused to remind Elliot.
Elliot was going to kill him. Or maybe die. Something bad was absolutely going to happen if Jackson didn’t get his tongue back in Elliot’s arse immediately. Fortunately, Jackson could sense Elliot’s struggle and returned to the task at hand with vigour.
Elliot groaned into the pillow, grinding his hips against the mattress to get some friction on his aching cock as Jackson licked and nipped at the puckered flesh. His tongue darted out, flicking against Elliot, who pushed his hips back to meet him.
“Patience is a virtue.”
“Jennings, I swear to—” Elliot’s voice died as Jackson lifted his hips and spread his cheeks wider, thumbs digging into the soft globes and tongue pressing insistently against him.
Elliot bit down hard as Jackson reached around and started to stroke him.
No further teasing came from Jackson as he threw himself completely into his task.
“I’m going to fucking come,” Elliot murmured into the pillow, uncertain whether Jackson had heard him or not, but then his arse was clenching around Jackson’s tongue as blinding pleasure crashed through him, his body collapsing with the strength of his release.
As the last tremors faded, leaving him shaking and panting on the bed, Jackson crawled on top of him.
Elliot made a weak grasping motion from where he still had his head cradled in his arms, but Jackson held him down as he wanked himself, letting out a low moan as his cum splattered over Elliot’s exposed backside.
He rocked back on his heels, seeming to admire his work for a moment before grabbing for some tissues to clean them both up. When he was finished, Jackson crawled back up the bed and pulled Elliot tight against his chest, letting him melt into him.
“You weren’t very quiet,” Elliot whispered.
“Never said I would be,” Jackson replied.
Elliot laughed softly and rested his head against Jackson’s. “How are you? Really? With everything?”
“Better with you here. I love you, Ell.”
“Love you too, Jennings.”
They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, in what Elliot still believed to be the world’s tiniest bed.