27. Vegas nights

Summary: Jack and Dave discuss homoerotic threesomes while suffering from post nut clarity.

- Please note: I'm not tagging this as smut because I don't think it follows the typical structure of that but it doooeees start out with vague descriptions of a spitroast so! Be mindful of that!

- Please note 2.0: I don't mean to condescend sex work in any way, and any language that comes across in that manner is a result of perspective (-Jack Kennedy being intoxicated and homosexual).

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Sorry for the absence I was busy with freakily detested heart emoji

I dooon't really like this one but I cannot have another unfinished draft on my list. There's too many already.

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Another night, another hooker whose name Jack had already forgotten. Dave was still the one who called all of them to their motel, though he always found himself nodding whenever he proposed they did. He'd convinced himself it was the sexual pleasure that made him agree, and not the fact Dave's gaze would more often land on him than whatever stranger was between them. They'd been sharing more often as of late too, rapidly dropping finances made several hookers at once unaffordable, they were lucky if they scraped together enough for one to begin with. Jack didn't mind, more than glad to share with his partner in crime.

His hand tangled in long hair; brunette, a similar length and structure to Dave's. He at least had the decency to hold her hair back as she swallowed him down, making his body course with that deliciously distracting sensation. Her eyes were fixed on him, rolled up in that way Jack was certain every sex worker was trained in at this point. His own gaze didn't exactly rest on her though, staring off into the blurry distance until he found his focus on Dave's hands, blunt fingernails digging in her hips.

His hips snapped forward, making her body rock onto Jack, in that way which just momentarily allowed him to believe that it was Dave in control of this stranger's movements. She wrung out a pitiful noise from between them, something between a fabricated moan and a gag, Jack was more focused on the increasingly breathy whines that started spilling from Dave's mouth. And then his equally dazed eyes met Jack's, one particularly movement that aligned their vision, immediately locked onto each other.

It always went like that; Dave thought he was subtle with it, but Jack noticed every glance he stole. Everytime he let out a noise slightly louder than usual, he could feel Dave's eyes on him. All the little moments where they made contact could hardly be accidental, and Dave wasn't the only one at fault for that. He winked at Jack, a smug look on his face as his thrusts remained unaffected. His own movements briefly flattered in an attempt to form an adequate response to Dave's vaguely flirtatious gesture, happy to find that Dave was rocking their hooker enough for the both of them.

Jack hated that he wanted to drown in it, that he wanted that look to last forever. He had a woman between them, his hands were still on her hips, and yet he didn't tear his eyes from Jack's. He was worth more than anyone who flowed into their room, they could pay for any service and Dave would still rather focus on him. He cocked his head at Jack, as if he was inviting him to a challenge; another gesture of acknowledgement. If Jack didn't know any better he'd have thought that all the hookers were merely an excuse for Dave to see him naked and worked up.

But -according to him- Dave was far too direct, Jack was certain that he would've made a move already if that was genuinely what he wanted. His ignorance towards what was directly in front of him might've just been a defense mechanism to conceal his own feelings and desires, because he found himself doing the exact same in return. Not even when Dave removed one of his hands from the strangers hips to blow Jack a kiss was he convinced that it was anything more than some strange form of banter, raising his own hand in the air to go through the motion of pretending to catch it.

And then Dave's eyes were torn away from his, his hands both back on their hooker's hips and his pace growing more ragged. Those obnoxiously purple fingers, digging into contrasting pale skin, making Jack wonder what they'd look like against orange. He shook the thought, focused on the nearly animalistic groan that emerged from Dave as he rode out his orgasm. The visual of Dave practically collapsing into a mess of incoherent pleas was enough to drag Jack over the edge as well, releasing with one finally thrust into the back of this stranger's throat.

A sweaty, tired and dazed mess unfolded on the dirty sheets. Their hooker seemed less than impressed with their low stamina and was quick to request using their bathroom, combing through her messed up hair. Jack, being the more decent of the two, offered to help her clean up, but she was quick to deny the offer. And just like that, as had happened many times before, he found himself leaning against Dave's equally sweaty and disgusting side, an arm draped around his shoulder.

If you hadn't been there to witness what went down moments earlier, you'd have thought that it was merely the two of them. Out of breath, coated in sweat and a remnant of bodily fluid, happily basking in the afterglow while clinging to each other. Jack pulled the sheets over their laps, concealing flaccid lengths beneath off-white, before slinging an arm across Dave's chest. Jack would never admit it, but these were some of his favourite moments of any sexual endeavor. For just a second, he could pretend that they were regular people and they were holding each other for any other reason than the daze that followed after their pathetic attempt to escape.

Dave rummaged around in his nightstand, a lighter flicking on followed by the sound of a heavy inhale, before a silence embraced them. That was the thing too, when they first arrived in Vegas Dave had been faithful to the whole no homo ordeal, but as time progressed he found that they uttered those words increasingly less. Jack had never been eager to anyway, saw it as nothing more than a gag that amplified the ridiculousness of whatever situation they found themselves in. Dave, though, seemed to take it seriously.

He recalled one time in particular, back when they were still able to afford more than one hooker. They'd been deliciously high on an array of designer drugs, heaving over their respective ladies like animals in heat. It'd come to a point where they both stood by one edge of the bed, Jack could hardly recall the visual of what lay on the sheets in front of them, too preoccupied with the look on Dave's face. His mouth opened in a heave, his hair falling before his eyes, forehead beaded with sweat and his eyes closed.

It was an impulse, a decision he couldn't reason against in his state of mind, but he'd seized Dave's jaw in one of his palms and kissed him with such force that it made their teeth clash. Their movements came to a ragged halt, too preoccupied with how horribly invasive that very kiss turned almost instantly. Dave's hands were no longer on pale skin, instead embracing orange as he sunk further into it. He'd kissed him again when Jack moved away, with equal amounts of eagerness.

"No homo-"

He'd whispered against bruised lips, with such an enticing tone that it could hardly be truthful. Jack hadn't been able to think of anything else for the duration of that night, no matter how much he tried to divert his focus towards the women in front of them. After that Dave had gotten more affectionate too, like he only now felt confident enough to actually present himself more vulnerable towards Jack. They hadn't spoken of it, but he had certainly thought about more than just a friend should.

"Y'want a hit sports?"

Dave asked him, holding the joint he'd apparently just lit out for Jack to take. He snatched it without hesitation, eagerly inhaling the smoke just to feel his muscles relax further into the sheets. Dave's fingers traced the muscles of his bicep, in just about the least platonic manner possible, while he watched the smoke dissipate before them. Maybe it was the weed talking, but Jack found his mouth moving before his mind could comprehend his question:

"So, what's it all about-?"

It was definitely the pot talking, seeing as his question made little sense without the context of his lingering thoughts. Dave didn't stop his movements, stole the blunt back with his free hand. What was he supposed to do if he didn't smoke after sex, anyway?

"What'sat sportsy?"

He mumbled, failing to blow a circle into the air. Jack shifted back minimally from where he was still glued to Dave's side, observing the way his face contorted as he produced a cough. If there was any moment to continue this conversation, it would absolutely be while Dave was going through a relaxed high.

"C'mon, blowing me a kiss while spitroasting a hooker?"

"Hey, you caught it!"

Dave returned, slightly breathless from his comedown. Jack scoffed, tried to reach for the joint only for Dave to hold it out of his reach, a teasing tut following as he took another drag. He exhaled the smoke directly into Jack's face, a lopsided grin on his face that betrayed he thought nothing of the gesture.

"Only because you'd pout at me if I didn't..."

He tried really hard to sound unbothered, he truly did, but he could immediately see the way Dave raised a questioning eyebrow towards him. Finally, he handed the joint back over and Jack eagerly placed it between his lips, noticing that the filter was soaked already.

"Awe, I love ya' too old sport!"

Dave joked, noticeably more stoned by this point. Jack hated that he was so awfully casual with it, that nothing about their ambiguous relationship seemed to bother him. He remembered how overwhelmed he felt when he first kissed him, how it had plagued his mind for every day since that. A drug induced slip made everything around him crumble, yet Dave seemed entirely fine, throwing out I love you's like they had hardly any meaning.

"Yeah, yeah..."

The weed was not only putting words in his mouth, but his mind too. He was usually so good at suppressing everything, at hiding the overwhelming desire to look at Dave whenever he had a hooker around him, but the weed made the picture a lot clearer. He could always just ask, he couldn't reason much against it.

"You remember when I kissed you?"

And then it was out there, almost disappearing like the smoke that emerged from his mouth along with his words. Silence, anticipatory silence that was merely accompanied by Dave's hesitant breaths and the sound of their shower running. Dave'd never said anything about it after it happened, Jack assumed he hadn't thought much of it, but the prolonged stillness briefly made him fear otherwise.

"Vaguely... Why you askin'?"

The gentle strokes of Dave's fingers hadn't stopped, still tracing along his skin. His voice was more hesitant this time around, utterly uncharacteristic for the otherwise confident Dave, snatching the joint from Jack. They were probably smoking faster than any normal person would, but their bodies had grown more than accustomed to any and all substance. Besides, they both needed something to disconnect their minds from the situation at hand.

"Do you ever, y'know, think of it...?"

Jack's eyelids were starting to feel heavy, much like his tone of voice; courtesy of the high taking action. His eyes were fixed ahead of him, looking at Dave's face somehow seemed more terrifying than not being able to read his expression at all. Something buried within him feared that he wouldn't see his own feelings reciprocated within the look on his face, perhaps the only thing worse than actually acknowledging his feelings was feeling ridiculous for having them to begin with. He'd prefer to live in ignorance if that were the case.

"All the fuckin' time, sportsy."

As it appeared, that was not the case. Dave's voice was nearly that of a whisper now, inhaling a suspiciously rich amount of smoke. In the silence that followed it seemed as though both were clueless what to do with this new knowledge, plumes of smoke dissipating before them. Jack was handed back the blunt, without protest or a fight this time.

"Why'd ya' do that, anyway?"

Dave asked, his voice slightly less breathless than before. Jack knew why he did it; because he wanted to, because he had for the entire time he knew the man. Because there was something exceptionally beautiful if you actually looked at him, because Jack had seen it and embraced it with all his rotten heart.

"I don't remember... The drugs, probably-"

But he didn't actually say that, for more reasons than one, so he made excuses for himself like he so often would. The soft sigh Dave exhaled sounded surprisingly disappointing, and just then; he considered unloading everything. He'd always presumed Dave saw this as nothing but a joke, same game of play pretend, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. It was entirely possible that Dave had a mindset similar to his own.

"Okay, no- That's not true, I was definitely hazey, but..."

There it all went, spilling like the smoke from his nostrils, out into the open. It felt like a vivisection, witnessing everything inside him sprawl out ahead of him.

"...It was because I wanted to, because I thought you looked good like that-"

And suddenly it was out there, resting along the clouded smoke that settled against their ceiling. Jack wished he could swallow it back again, along the drag he took, but it remained floating.

"Was that- The only time you ever wanted to?"

Dave asked, very carefully, like he was equally as apprehensive of this conversation as Jack was. It wasn't the only time, he was certain Dave had to know it wasn't by now. The gentle strokes along his bicep hadn't seized yet, not even with their joint coming to its end.

"Well, no! How could it have been, with the way you keep looking at me? I mean come on, blowing me a kiss while we're fucking a woman?!"

"So, you didn't just catch it to prevent me from pouting...?"

Dave was looking at him, with that signature grin plastered on his face again. It was far more relieving to hear his voice in a teasing tone again; familiar. He returned the look, their faces not far with the way he was still stuck to Dave's side. He placed the remnant of the joint between Dave's lips, watching him inhale rich amounts of it. And then Dave's hand seized his jaw, pulling him close enough to exhale the smoke directly into his parted lips.

"Maybe I didn't, what of it?"

It absolutely oozed from both of them, tatters of smoke that formed hearts before dissipating into the mist that rested all around. The conversation he'd been apprehensive from the moment he first realised, played out so easily under the company of some good old reliable marijuana. Dave's hand didn't leave his jaw, not even when he moved to flick away the bud.

"Oh, nuffin' old sport... I just can't help but wonder-"

There was something devious in his tone, cupping Jack's face in both his hands to draw him nearer. He followed without protest, leaned on his hip with his hands on either side of Dave. When he spoke again, he could feel the gentle breaths along his face:

"-Do you want to, right now?"

His voice was a whisper again, knowing Jack could hear every word regardless, the pad of his thumb tracing his cheekbone. He smiled, that lousy grin he always had when he was high, that look Jack had come to love.

"Always."

He returned the look, equally enticed, outright leaning into Dave's touch. Dave's lips met his; gentle, nothing at all like the first time. There were no hurried tongues, clashing teeth, or smothered lips: they could simply enjoy the moment while it lasted. For once, it was only them, mere contact that wasn't concealed behind some form of desire, a simple want that met its need. For a moment, as Dave retreated minimally, he felt just a sense of normalcy.

He could nearly feel the smile on Dave's lips when he retreated, keeping so little distance between them that his eyes could hardly focus through his heavy eyelashes. Neither had to say anything, the complexity of any confession was all throughout the smoke that surrounded them. Dave's hands never left his face, embracing it like it was the most precious thing he'd seen, like Jack had always wanted Dave to see him.

When the gentle touch of his lips returned, Jack could pretend that they were regular people for just a moment. Those brief seconds where he could believe that it would only be them, that they wouldn't need anymore hookers just as an excuse to see each other; that they could build a life. When Dave kissed him so gently, nipping at his lips, he was almost convinced of its legitimacy. At the very least, this had to be somewhat of a stumble in that direction; it'd never felt so good to close his eyes and experience his high to its fullest.

"Excuse me...?"

The voice of a woman pierced through the silence, and Jack found himself jumping to the other side of the bed. Their hooker, with her wet hair laced across her shoulders, stood cluelessly in their bathroom doorway. In their moment of intimacy, neither of them had heard the water shut down, or heard the door open.

"It's not what it looks like!"

Dave blurted, and Jack could swear he saw her give an eye roll as she turned back around to reach for her purse. The circumstances they'd built for themselves would always manage to revert anything they achieved, it was how they'd set themselves up.

"Hey, this is arguably one of the least strange things I've seen today! I couldn't care less if you two have anything going on..."

She replied, just as casually as it could get, counting the cash Dave had paid her in advance. Confirming the amount, she stuffed the buffalo wing sauce-stained bills in her purse, swinging it over her shoulder with a chuckle. Before either of them could have the decency to walk her out the room, she already had her hand on the doorknob. Jack shamefully buried his face in his palms by now.

"If you're into each other, you should probably work it out instead of paying someone to walk in on you, though."

She joked, a playful tone to her voice that was entirely different from the fabricated attitude she had when she first walked it. Before either of them could formulate a response, she was out the door and some mixture of awkward and tense silence embraced them.

"You know old sport, maybe she has a point..."

"For the love of Fredbear, shut up-"

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[3283 words]

I don't. Don't like it. Runs away.

I'll probably be taking a bit of a break to catch up on my abundance of school work, replay dsaf, and read fanfiction by friends and family. See'ya when I see'ya!