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The last sparkles of fireworks faded from the night sky replaced by the natural glimmer of stars in a sea of velvet blackness. And still Jack held Eric’s face in his big, warm hands and kissed and kissed and kissed him. They kissed until Eric’s lips were swollen and tingling, until his heart had begun to stutter on every other beat. Until he’d lost track of where they were, what they had been doing before the kiss had begun. Until he forgot what he hoped would happen after.

At some point, Eric felt certain, they would have to come up for air. They would have to break apart and resume their lives in the real world. In the world where he no longer had one hand exploring Jack’s chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Where Jack didn’t make that pleased little noise in his throat every time their mouths shifted, every time their tongues found a new way to touch and stroke. Where Eric’s other hand hadn’t wandered up to tangle in Jack’s soft, dark curls, holding him close, guiding the kiss.

With a gusty sigh, Jack pulled slowly away, lingering as he went until their lips parted with a soft, damp smack.

“Bits,” he whispered, and Eric managed to force his eyes halfway open, gazing up into the shadowy darkness of Jack’s face. Instead of following up with more words, though, Jack just slipped his arms around Eric’s shoulders. He twisted, stretching out on top of the folded sleeping bag that Eric had put down for them to sit on, to protect them from the hard ridges of the truck liner. He pulled as he went, tugging Eric down with him.

“No, honey,” Eric told him, trying to pull free. Jack’s shoulder hadn’t made it onto the sleeping bag, and Eric didn’t want him to get hurt. To interfere with his training for the upcoming season. Didn’t want Jack to have anything to regret about their too-short visit. “‘S too hard. But this thing does have a fairly roomy backseat. Ya know, for a truck. If you’re interested.”

Jack just chuckled softly and pulled Eric closer, close enough to resume their momentarily interrupted kiss. Eric felt himself melting when Jack’s tongue slipped back between his own lips. His arms began to sag, collapsing by millimeters until he ended up draped over Jack’s broad, firm chest. Jack made a soft sound, not pained, but neither did he sound happy.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Eric pushed himself reluctantly away from Jack’s mouth. He sat up and reached over to comb his fingers back through Jack’s tousled, wavy hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jack answered, sitting up and stretching his shoulder and neck carefully. He scooted closer to Eric, close enough to share breath, for their noses to bump. “You’re not wrong about it not being comfortable here. But…”

He cleared his throat and leaned forward, carefully finding Eric’s lips with his own. The next quiet whine came from Eric as Jack tightened his fingers in the back of Eric’s shirt, pulling him close enough to press their chests together. Jack let out another whimper, then a soft, hungry groan.

“Bittle…Bits.” Jack turned his face away, leaning his head onto Eric’s shoulder. “I just...I don’t want this to move too fast. For you. I mean, I don’t…”

“Jack!” Eric stroked across his wide shoulders and down his ribs. “Oh, honey, no. You don’t need to worry about me, okay? I...I want be here. Ya know, with you. Okay? Trust me to tell you no if I need to, honey. It’’re okay. We’re okay.”

Jack took a deep breath, chest swelling against Eric’s far longer than any normal person could have inhaled. He let the air out in an exaggerated sigh, and Eric swallowed down a huff of laughter. He pressed a kiss to Jack’s neck and started to get up.

“Come on, sugar,” he said, looping a finger into the collar of Jack’s shirt.. He cringed at the stiffness in his knees from where he’d missed the edge of the sleeping bag as he’d begun to get up and ended up kneeling on the rough texture of the bed liner. “Let’s go slip into somewhere more comfortable.”

Jack laughed and let himself be pulled along. Eric had to let his shirt go as he climbed down, but Jack caught his hand as soon as they were both on the ground. They smiled at each other, just because they were there, and Eric tried not to hurry as he began to pull Jack in the direction of the cab. Just when Eric reached for the handle of the back door of the truck, Jack drew him back by their joined hands.

“Bitty, Eric.” He took a deep breath, and Eric thought he could almost see the blue of Jack’s earnest eyes by the light of the stars. “How far do you want take this? I’m not expecting anything, yeah? And I’d never want to push you, but I...Just….” He cleared his throat. “I need to know the play. So I don’t… So you don’t… So we don’t misunderstand each other.”

“Jack…” Eric blinked, wondering why the stars had gone all fuzzy, why Jack’s face seemed to be looking out of an aquarium. He sniffed hard and flung himself into Jack’s arms, pressing his face into the same place he’d sought comfort when the team had presented him with a new oven. “You’re too good to be real, did you know that? I just...Lord, I’m glad you’re here. That’s all. And Jack, sweetheart, you can have any ol’ thing you want from me. I’m...I’m ready. For...for s-sex, if that’s what you mean.”

He mentally kicked himself for the accidental stutter; Jack’d never see Eric as a man if he couldn’t even say…that word without tripping over it. To distract from his momentary lapse, Eric decided to try the tried and true Chirping Method of Distraction.

“What’s the matter, Captain? You thinking I can’t take a little contact and still go all the way?” He leaned his back against the truck, hands folded together behind himself, head tipped to one side. “Think I need a workout? Maybe a little more checking practice? Because I’m ready for this sport to be full contact.”

Jack laughed weakly, but his eyes were hot even in the starlight.

“Somehow I always suspected that hockey was the only thing that’d get your motor revving.” Eric licked his lips and grinned, feeling bold and depraved. “So I’ll give you the assist, but only if you promise to put it in the goal.”

A deeper shadow spread across Jack’s cheeks, and Eric realized he was blushing, moonlight leeching away the color and leaving only grey against Jack’s fair skin. He wondered if it came from arousal or embarrassment. He decided the answer was the former when Jack gave a rumble, deep in his throat, a small growl that meant game on. It was exactly the same sound Eric had heard dozens– hundreds of times on the ice, but this time it heated him up from the groin. Jack lunged forward, hands against catching Eric’s face as he leaned in, pressing him against the side of the truck. Eric grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt and yanked him down, crushing their mouths together with far more pressure, more urgency than any kiss they'd shared before.

“B...Bits, are you sure?” Jack turned away from kissing Eric’s mouth, arms slipping about his waist, pulling him up onto his toes. Eric gasped as Jack began mouthing along his jaw and down the side of his neck. “We can...we can stop any time that you wanna. Promise me you’ll say stop if you need to. Please, Bitty, promise me?”

“‘Course…’course I will, honey.” Eric shuffled his hands restlessly around Jack’s back and sides, fingers twitching out of his control as Jack kissed and nipped at his neck, his shoulder, his earlobe. “But right now I’m not saying stop, so you’d better keep going, Zimmerman.”

Jack chuckled, kissing Eric’s mouth firmly one more time before pulling away and grabbing the handle of the door. He swung it open and bowed, like some old-fashioned footman or someone from a Regency romance novel.

“After you, Bittle,” he said, looking up, still bent low from the waist. The interior lights of the truck showed his brightest grin and glittered in his hot eyes.

Eric grabbed Jack’s collar as he stepped onto the running board, tugging him closer. He turned and flopped backward on the seat, reaching up with both hands to pull Jack in with him. Jack reached back to close the door. Eric held his arms wide and smiled invitingly to coax Jack to climb over him and press him into the seat. He spread his legs, tucking Jack’s narrow hips between his thighs, unable to keep himself from rocking up into him just once. Jack stretched out above him, still holding up most of his own weight, even as they settled chest to chest. Eric huffed impatiently and looped his arms around the back of Jack’s neck, pulling him down to encourage him to get back to the kissing.

“I’ll crush you!” The lights had dimmed into darkness, but even without seeing it, Eric could tell Jack was smiling. He could hear the playful laughter in Jack’s voice.

“Nah, I’m a hockey player.” Eric wriggled, thrilled by how boxed in he felt with Jack above him, his solid weight pressing them both down into the seat. “I can take it. No checking right now though, you hear.”

“I promise,” Jack replied with mock solemnity, humor still ruffling the edges of his words. “No checking.”

Eric laughed and slid his fingers back into Jack’s thick brown hair, twisting the strands lightly.

“Now how ‘bout you get on back down here.” Eric let his drawl out further, pushing it all the way to absurd. He’d noticed how Jack would look at him when he said something particularly “Southern” over the course of the afternoon with Eric’s family. The way his eyes would darken, pupils widening. The way the corner of his lips tucked up like he was about to smile. Right on cue, Jack responded, shivering in Eric’s arms. “And bring those lips of yours, honey.”

With a muttered curse that didn’t sound like English, Jack shoved his arms beneath Eric, holding on hard, and pressed their mouths together. He was as careful as ever, but this kiss seemed somehow firmer. More determined. Ready to move things along.

Eric really wanted things to move along. He knew he didn’t have much experience (any). Not a lot of dating history (none). He had no real idea what he was hoping for (sex, by preference). But he knew he wanted more. More touch. More closeness. More Jack.

“Please!” He arched his back as much as he could, pressing up into the solid muscle of Jack above him. “Please, Jack...I want...I need...Jack, please!”

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes hardly glimmers in the dark. “Bitty. Bits. Are you...What do you need?”

Eric knew he was blushing, and he thanked everything for the darkness that kept it hidden. He took a deep, calming breath and then pushed himself up to sitting. Jack sank back on his heels, and Eric grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt.

“You, Jack.” He took a firmer grip on Jack’s collar and his own courage and forced his mouth to say what was on his mind. “I want to have sex. With you. Now. Here.”

So smooth, Bittle.

He shook it off and tried again.

“Please, Jack,” he said, and that was better. He sounded calm. Self-assured. “I’d reallyreallyreally like it.”

Oh Lord, Beyonce would be rolling her grave– provided she was dead, which, of course she wasn’t– at how flustered and young Eric sounded just then.

Jack cursed again, low and rough and completely in French.

“You’re going to kill me, Bits.” Jack shook his head and leaned forward to kiss Eric, hot and fast. “You’re going to kill me, but at least I’ll die happy.”

Eric chewed his lip, pressing his fingers under the hem of Jack’s shirt, cautiously brushing over the ridged muscles of Jack’s stomach. He’d seen so much of that body– in the locker room, when Jack wandered shirtless around the Haus before he turned in for the night, once or twice when Jack hadn’t bothered closing his bedroom door before he began to strip down to change. So very much looking, and Eric had never thought he’d get to touch.

Jack reached up to grab the neck of his own shirt, yanking it over his head and putting the full rippling glory of his torso on display. Eric bit his lip harder when he reached up to touch, struggling to keep in the moan of desire that pressed at his throat. He brushed his fingers over the dusting of dark hair that was nothing more than a darker shadow down the center of Jack’s chest. It was silky, softer than Eric had expected it to be, and, once he’d made contact, he couldn’t seem to stop touching.

He brushed over the smooth swell of each of Jack’s firm pectorals, down the washboard dips of his ribs. He pressed a thumb to Jack’s left nipple, and that earned him a gasp, so he carefully, lightly brushed a nail over the right one. Jack dropped his head back and groaned, soft and low. Emboldened by the sound, the solid evidence that Jack was as affected as Eric, he reached up with both hands at once, pinching Jack’s nipples at the same time, tugging lightly.

“Bitty!” Jack grabbed both of Eric’s wrists, his big hands hot and warm and grounding. “Bits, please.”

Apparently it was Jack’s turn to plead, and Eric felt a surge of triumph, as powerful as he’d felt after his first assist. Then Jack said the last thing Eric ever expected to hear.

“I really need you to get in me, Bits.” He dug his hands under Eric’s shirt, gripping hard at his ribs. “Come on, I gotta feel you.”

“Oh.” Eric blinked, suddenly frozen. “I thought...I mean I just assumed that...It’s just, you…. What?”

“Oh, so you’re not...I mean you would rather…” Jack sank back across the seat, leaning against the far door, and Eric felt instantly cold and bereft and very alone on the passenger side of the truck. “I just thought, for the first time, for your first time, I mean, that it’d be easier if you...if I...I don’t want to hurt you, and I...I want it, Bitty. I want you.”

“Ohhh…” Eric felt his heart well up, huge and swollen with emotion. He scrambled across the seat to fling himself into Jack’s lap, cupping his sharp jaw in both hands while pressing light, quick kisses across his lips, his gorgeous cheekbones, his long-lashed eyelids. “Whatever you want, Jack. Whatever you think’d work best. I just never really thought about…”

He bit off the lie and resumed kissing Jack’s lovely face. Of course he’d thought about it. About having Jack spread out beneath him, beautiful and wanting, face flushed with desire. Who wouldn’t have thought it, watching Jack step out of the shower with a towel around his waist, full butt stretching out the terrycloth, chest and back reddened from the heat of the water. He hadn’t been able not to imagine it, seeing Jack sleep-rumpled and relaxed on his bed on the rare mornings he slept in until the sun rose.

“So you’re okay with...that? With topping? I just...I only have enough supplies on me for, ya know, once.” Jack’s voice was higher than usual, tight and worried, and Eric suddenly wished for more light, for enough to see the hot blush that he felt certain had stained Jack’s cheeks and ears. “I don’t...I don’t have enough lube along for your first time. God, Bits, I’d be so careful with you. I’d make it so good! I want to…” he trailed off into a string of French as Eric kissed down the side of his neck to nip at his shoulder.

Eric didn’t understand a word of it, but he liked it: the cadence of the language; the obvious tell that Jack had lost control of his mouth and his brain; the way his own name sounded foreign and exotic in Jack’s lovely accent. He peeled his own shirt over his head, and Jack’s rolling whisper hitched and stopped, stuttered and began again. Suddenly he had Jack’s chest pressed against his own, Jack’s hands stroking over his shoulders, his back, fingers dipping beneath the waist of his jeans. That sensation of skin on skin, of hot, reverent touching, combined with the sound of Jack’s broken, senseless pleas, had Eric horny and hard, grinding against the massive swelling of Jack’s own erection. Two layers of denim were too much and not enough, and, if they didn’t move things along quickly, no one would be on the receiving end, because Eric was going to lose it right there!

“Bitty, come on,” Jack pushed him back slowly and reached for his own belt. He quickly unbuttoned the waist of his jeans and then slid the zipper down. “We’ve got to get moving, or we’re not going to get anywhere.”

“We gotta get moving, or my folks’ll wonder what’s taking so long.” Eric climbed carefully off of the bench seat and unfastened his own jeans. Pity he’d made sure to wear his good underwear that night: too dark for Jack to see that he’d picked them especially because they were Falconer blue. He got distracted before he got the underwear off, however, since Jack just peeled down his clothes and boxerbriefs in a single motion, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the seat, facing out the back window, beautifully bare and perfect, even in the darkness.

“Jack…” Eric barely breathed the name, but Jack shuddered anyway. He fidgeted with something in front of himself and then reached around his back.

And that was it.

Eric instantly decided he’d had enough of darkness, of not being able to see. He fumbled above Jack’s head until he found the switch for the backseat cab light, flipping it on before he sat back onto the front seat center console to watch. Jack handled himself as deftly as he did everything, and Eric was hypnotized, watching Jack’s finger slip inside himself. Every time Jack’s breath caught with pleasure, every sigh that accompanied the addition of another digit, Eric echoed. He didn’t know exactly when he’d pushed his underwear halfway down his thighs and started stroking himself in time with the thrusts of Jack’s hand, but they matched one another the same way they did on the ice.

“Je suis prêt.” Jack slid his fingers free and looked over his shoulder. His eyebrows climbed when he saw what Eric was doing, and he licked his lips, eyes following the motion of Eric’s hand. “Je vais mourir. Really, I will. Because you’re going to kill me. Bittle...Bitty, please. I’m ready.”

Eric stopped touching himself and rose enough to touch Jack, instead. His hands shook as he reached up to rub Jack's shoulders. He stroked down the wide, smooth spread of Jack's back, daringly letting his thumbs swipe across the firm, plump curves of Jack's perfect hockey butt. Damn! The things hours on the ice did for a man's buns! For one moment he paused, indecisive, afraid that he’d never be able to get any closer than he was right then. That he’d never be brave enough to close the gap and....and...

Have sex, Bittle, he told himself. If you can’t think the words, then you shouldn’t be doing it.

He took a deep breath and a tight hold on his courage and slid carefully to his knees on the floor. If he took just a minute to look, he’d have a chance to really revel in the perfection of Jack’s glorious ass. Well, and he’d have a chance to get his nerves under control.

“What are you doing down there, Bit--ohhhhh…” Jack broke off on a low moan when Eric spread his cheeks, just long enough for one fast glance, before leaning forward to press one kiss to each of the two dimples above Jack's butt. He moaned again when Eric scrunched down for a better view.

Eric licked his lips and then really looked, trying to take in all the detail he could in spite of the dim glow and bad angle of the weak dome light. His breath dusted the back of his own thumbs where they pressed into the muscles an inch on either side of Jack's slick-glossed hole.

“How'd I ever think you were a straight boy?” Eric murmured, mostly to himself. He traced one thumb across Jack's entrance, chuckling at the shiver Jack gave. “Lord! Never dreamed I'd get to see you like this, honey.”

Jack's hips swayed back, and Eric held his hand still, marveling at the way the tightly furled muscles quivered and relaxed, letting the tip of his thumb slide easily inside.

“ hafta...I need…” Jack's voice was faint, muffled in his folded arms, shaking with want. “Please, mon coeur…”

Eric carefully removed his finger from Jack’s body and pushed his own underwear down and fully off. He reached for the condom packet, dropped it in the floor, and retrieved it with a nervous laugh. Since one hand was slippery from the lube already on Jack’s ass, he used his teeth to open the foil, mentally apologizing to Shitty and all of his drunken safer sex lectures. Much to Eric's amazement, he only fumbled a little rolling on the latex sleeve, and then he climbed onto the seat, tucking his knees between Jack's.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked gently, taking himself in hand to line up.

“Oui...oh, yes...mais oui...s’il vous plaît...Bitty…Pl–”

His pleas, French and English, cut off sharply, replaced by an open-mouthed groan. Eric clung to him, one hand at his hip, the other digging bruises into one of Jack's beautiful shoulders. The hot, tight, glorious grip of Jack's body nearly made Eric's eyes roll back in his head, and he was grateful that the condom dulled some of the sensation. He felt certain that he'd have come only halfway in if he’d been going bare.

“Sacré...Bit...Gah...You…” Jack wiped the back of his wrist across his face. “If...if the guys...the team...if they knew…” He reached back and patted Eric's thigh gingerly. “They'd never call you Bitty again…”

Eric laughed breathlessly and leaned forward to press his cheek into the dip between Jack’s sharp shoulder blades. Jack’s skin was sweat-slick and hot against Eric’s face, and he turned his face to lick a salty track that dipped between two vertebrae.

“Bits, you can...can you move?” Jack braced his hands on the back of the seat and pushed himself upright, spreading his knees wider to sink further into Eric’s lap.

As if there was any deeper Eric could get. As if they weren’t already pressed together, tender skin on skin, as intimate an embrace as two people could share.

Eric sucked in, holding his breath as he carefully gripped the seatback in front of Jack, letting his pinkies loop over Jack’s thumbs. He sank down and back, slowly, so slowly and carefully, and then moved back into Jack, still slow, still gentle, afraid of hurting him. A deep sigh from Jack did not sound like pain, so Eric moved again, barely faster, but with more certainty. Jack’s puff of air at that thrust came out less sigh and more grunt, giving Eric more courage. He thrust again, harder, surer.

“Yeah, Bits,” Jack said softly, letting his head drop down limply. He slouched down and rested his elbows on the back of the seat, bending his spine sharply and jutting his ass back further. “Just like that.”

Eric thrust again, and everything went wrong at once.


Jack’s elbow slipped off the seat and he tipped forward, forehead smacking into the glass of the truck’s back window. The suddenness of the movement knocked Bitty’s knees off the edge of the seat. He squeaked once and made a frantic grab for Jack’s hips, but the sweat-slickness of Jack’s skin gave him no purchase, and he tumbled into the floor, head thumping against the center console in the front before he landed. Jack’s belt buckle gouged painfully into Eric’s left bottock, and shifting only made it press in harder.

“...Bittle?” Jack turned, sitting down on one hip and looking curiously down at Eric. “You okay?”

Eric took the proffered hand, letting Jack’s impressive strength pull him up. Jack tugged him into his arms, and they both began laughing. They tried to kiss, but their giggles quickly made it impossible to continue, so they simply leaned together, naked and slick, both of them still partially hard, arms wrapped around one another, chuckling quietly. Jack gathered Eric into his arms more tightly, hugging him hard.

“I love you, Bits,” Jack said. He sighed deeply, happily, and leaned his cheek down to Eric’s hair. “I really, really do.”


For the first time in the whole of his life, Eric could not think of a single word to say.

“Bitty?” Jack pulled back and gripped Eric by the shoulders. “Are you...Is that...Did I…”

“Oh, Lord!” Eric could barely get enough air to whisper. “Yes, Jack. You did. And I...I love you, too.”

They both paused, grinning dopily at each other in the shadowy half-light.

“You know you don’t have to say that just because I did, right?” Jack tugged gently until Eric melted back into his embrace. “Or to, ya know, get in my pants.”

“Jack Zimmerman,” Eric said primly, pulling himself free and standing up as far as he could, hunching to avoid knocking his head on the truck’s ceiling. “If you dare break the mood right now, I’m going to smack you. Chirping is not allowed just at this moment!”

Jack shot him a dark, wicked look, eyes flashing under his lowered lids. With one graceful, athletic twist, he turned, resting on his hands and knees, ass aimed toward Eric.

“Then you’d better get up here and get back to what we were doing.” His voice came out low and rough, the lilt of his accent standing out more sharply with his arousal.

The sight of Jack on his elbows and knees– and all for him– took Eric from mostly hard to could be used to pound nails so quickly, he thought he might get light-headed. He scrambled quickly onto the seat, settling onto his knees between Jack’s calves. He used both hands to spread Jack wide, and thrust back in smoothly, far faster than he’d gone the first time. Jack gasped and shifted one foot to the floor, bracing his hands on the far door as he dropped his face to the seat.

“God, that’s good, Bitty.” He rocked back to meet Eric’s next thrust, and the one after. His whispered praise grew marginally louder. “C'est bon! Très bon! Yes, yeah…”

And somehow, just like that, they found a rhythm, and Jack fell silent for a time.

His back stretched and flexed, the warm glow of the light making it a landscape of gold and shadow. Eric needed to touch, to reassure himself that it was all real, that Jack was real. He stroked with his palms, let his fingertips press in lightly to the dips between bone and the ridges of muscle, occasionally scratched lightly across the smoothness of Jack’s skin.

Every touch made Jack gasp, shiver, or give a tiny, barely audible whine. The slap of skin against skin, the sharpness of their breathing, blended into the night time song of cicadas and frogs outside. Eric closed his eyes and sank into the moment, letting the hockey-trained muscles of his legs and back, stomach and arms, guide him along. Let the years of figure skating help his body move in time with the beating of his own heart.

And then, with no warning and for reasons Eric would never be able to articulate, the moment became too much. Too much sensation, emotion, heat…. Too much distance between his body and Jack’s. He grabbed the top of the condom and pulled out to a weak whine of protest from Jack. His head cracked against the headliner as he jumped to his feet, but he barely felt the contact.

“Roll over,” he hissed, tugging on Jack’s hip. “Please, sweetheart. You’ve gotta roll over, I need...I need…”


Jack complied quickly, wiggling around until he was on his back, one leg stretched up to the back of the seat, the other spread wide into the footwell. His eyebrows crunched together in worry.


“What do you need?” He held his arms up to Eric, and Eric dropped down against his chest.

He couldn’t answer, so he just wrapped his arms tightly around Jack’s waist and held on for one long moment.

“Bitty?” Jack pressed anxious kisses to Eric’s hair. “What do you need? Anything...I’ll do...What do you need?”

Eric still couldn’t figure out the words to explain. He raised himself up until he could push Jack’s legs wider, tilting his hips up to let himself slide back inside. With the new angle, he could get just as deep and reach Jack’s mouth with his own. He kissed the blissful gasp from Jack’s lips as he slid home. Once he was buried deep, he held his body still, cupping the back of Jack’s head in both his hands so he could kiss him deeply, passionately, desperately.

“That,” Eric said, finally breaking the kiss. He stared deeply into Jack’s eyes, panting, slightly out of breath. “I needed that. To kiss you. To...To hold onto you.”

Jack’s face was soft, happy, and blissful in the dim light. He reached up to encircle Eric’s shoulders with both of his arms, and he curled the calf from the back of the seat over Eric’s butt.

“Like this?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Yeah, honey.” Eric kissed him again and then wrapped his arms around Jack’s muscular torso, wedging his hands under Jack’s back. The soles of his feet pressed against the door, and his knees were spread wide under Jack’s hips, holding his ass at just the right angle. He slid out a bit and pushed into Jack again, knocking the breath from both of them in matching gasps. “Yeah, sweetheart, just like that.”

He began to thrust again, rhythm slower but harder than before, shallower withdrawals, and a wicked little grind added as he pressed in deep. Jack arched his spine, head tossing restlessly, fingers clenching and unclenching against Eric’s back. Tiny, cut off moans escaped his throat, and Eric felt himself grinning wider with each sound.

“Can you...can you get a hand on yourself, honey?” He tangled one hand in Jack’s sweat-drenched hair. “Go on, touch yourself for me. Wanna...want you to…”

Jack sucked in a deep breath and carefully wiggled a hand between their bellies, fingers wrapping around himself. His back arched again, and another groan– louder and longer– tore out of him.

“That’s it, honey,” Eric told him gently. And then Jack clenched around him, hard, and his own voice rose in volume and pitch. “Just like that...Just like...Oh, Lord, Jack! Can’t hold on...Need to...Gonna…”

The pressure let up for a moment and then clenched tightly again, and Eric wondered if that was how it felt to die: jolts of electric pleasure shooting up his spine, heat exploding his belly, his legs and nose and lips all going numb at once, his fingers….Lord only knew where his fingers had gone, since goodness knew Eric couldn’t feel them anymore! He thrust again, one uncoordinated push and then another, and then he oozed down to Jack’s chest, all of his bones turned to jelly with pleasure.

Somewhere, distantly, he was aware of a few minor details; the hot, muscular stretch of Jack beneath him was sticky-slick; the place where he was most sensitive was receiving entirely too much stimulation with every little aftershock-like shudder of Jack’s ass; his breath was wheezing in and out in desperate gasps.

Mostly, though he was just blown away that his first time could possibly have been that good.

“Bitty? Bittle? Eric?” Jack’s voice finally filtered through the haze, and Eric realized he’d been hearing his own name for several long moments.

“Yeah, yeah, Zimmerman,” he said, sleepily. “‘M here. ‘M fine. You’re fine. You’re really pretty wonderful. I think that...That was...You’re…”

Jack began to laugh, chest heaving under Eric’s cheek.

“If you’re laughing at me, I won’t let you have any more pie this entire visit.” He kissed clumsily at Jack’s chest. “And you should know that I planned on making cherry tomorrow…”

“Ohhh, you know he’s serious when he starts threatening to withhold baked goods,” Jack chirped, his grin gone lazy and crooked. “I better behave myself.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmerman!” Eric pushed himself up enough to glare down at Jack’s handsome face. “Do you really think baked goods are all I’d be withholding?”

Jack sighed again, happily, and pushed up on his elbows until he could kiss Eric silent. The stayed that way long enough for Eric’s arms and back to begin complaining, and then he broke the kiss and reached down to hold the condom while he slipped carefully out.

“We really should be gettin’ back,” Eric said softly. He felt oddly shy, unwilling to pull too far away. “My folks’ll…”

“Hey, Bitty. Bits.” Jack sat up, pulling Eric into another tender kiss. “It’s okay. Let’s go back, tell everyone goodnight.” He made a face. “Probably each take a shower. And then…”

“Then what, exactly, Mr. Zimmerman?” Eric arched a coy eyebrow. “Do you think we’ll be doing this again tonight with my mother in the very next room? Because I will absolutely not be participating in that idea. Of all the–”

“No!” Jack shook his head, eyes wide and horrified. “Non! But I just thought...Since I’m supposed to be sleeping on the floor in your room...maybe we could, I don’t know. Lock the door? Share the bed?”

“Hmm.” Eric pretended to ponder. Like he would deny Jack anything. Like he hadn’t already been planning on dragging Jack into his bed to hold him close all night long. “I suppose we could manage that. But only if we get dressed and get home in a hurry. And only if we air out this truck before we get there.”

They continued to chirp one another, gentle and fond, through dressing and climbing into the front seat, Eric behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition and rolled down the windows, letting in the green smell of evening-dewed grass and the sweet-sharp scent of honeysuckle. He grinned over at Jack once more before he put the truck in gear and began to creep it across the field toward the road.

“Hey, Bits?” Jack sank back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. By the pale green light of the dashboard, Eric could just read the humor in the quirk of Jack’s lips.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I think I like your Independence Day celly.” He looked over and his smile grew wider. “Good fireworks show.”

Eric laughed and reached out, sighing happily when Jack took his hand and laced their fingers together.

“Best fireworks I’ve ever...seen.” He swung the truck out of the field and onto the gravel track that would take them back to the main roads. “By far the best fireworks ever. ‘Swawesome”