HOME    STORIES    LINKS   INFO

Title: Remnants Author: Tink Pairing: DB/JM Rating: R The show ends and all James wants to do is fuck. David can’t figure it out at first; he thinks that maybe James broke up with the latest seventeen-year-old that he always has on hand. Then he realizes that no, the latest seventeen-year-old is still on his arm at appearances, so it can’t be that. Dave doesn’t complain, really, especially when James is particularly enthusiastic about sucking his dick. * * * Three months after the show ends, James still wants to fuck, and Dave can’t keep up. “Christ,” he mutters, when he feels James’s hand snake its way around his cock for the third time that night, even though James is warm and smells of good whiskey and normally that would make David come before they even got started. But he’s too tired now. “Don’t,” he mumbles into the dark, and turns over. He ignores the put-upon sigh. * * * Dave doesn’t notice when the fuckfest tapers off because he’s too busy working. But then suddenly there’s an absence of James at night; no James knocking on the back door and sitting in his kitchen with a sheepish grin. No phone calls at 3 a.m. with a voice like honey slurring what he’s going to do to Dave when he gets there. Dave notices the absence more than he ever did the presence. Jaime goes out of town to visit a friend and David prowls his house alone for three days before calling James's cell and getting his voicemail. He hangs up on it once, and then calls back. “Uh.. hey. Just seein’ what’s up. Jaime’s out of town. I got beer.” He thinks about calling back because the message sounded idiotic, but doesn’t, and then gets irrationally angry when he doesn’t receive a phone call in return. He goes out to the hole in the wall bar down the street. He drinks four Jack Daniels and cokes without any dinner, and plays several bad games of pool. * * * The cab dumps him off after midnight and he thinks about writing himself a note so he remembers in the morning where the fuck his car is, but then he notices the kitchen light. He thinks his wife is home early, but her car isn’t in the driveway. Someone else’s car is there instead. He’s asleep in Dave’s California King bed, and if his hair was still blond then Dave might be tempted to call him Goldilocks. As it is, he’s too happy to see him to think up dumb nicknames, and he’s way too drunk to think that hard anyway. He toes off his shoes and shucks his jeans, hearing the soft thunk of his wallet as his pants hit the floor. Dave climbs in next to him, absorbing the warmth of the sheets, realizing that James has been there for at least an hour. The sheets smell of Downy and maleness, and Dave can tell James was smoking cigars earlier, probably with the bunch of teenagers he calls a band. James sleeps on his back, his head turned away from Dave toward the window. He stirs slightly, sighing in his sleep, and in the alcohol-addled recesses of his mind, Dave somehow equates the sound with comfort. Maybe he’ll think about that in the morning. Maybe not. Morning is a long time away, so David doesn’t have to think about the harsh light of dawn and the job that he no longer goes to. Instead, he can think about the long, lean body next to him, the one he aligns himself to and molds into the hard muscle. He buries his face in the hollow of James’s neck and shoulder and breathes deeply of memories. James has turned into him without him noticing, and Dave lifts his head to see blue eyes glinting at him in the darkness. “Hey,” James says, very seriously. “Hey,” Dave murmurs back, and then James is sucking at the soft skin along his jawline. Dave thinks there might have been something else he wanted to say, but now he can’t remember. James is uncharacteristically gentle, sweeping his hands over Dave and barely brushing his dick, and Dave doesn’t like it. James is usually rough and tumble, always giving before taking, and the pattern they’ve set follows the same behavior. This oddness from James makes David uneasy, and he says so. “What’re you doing?” he asks, threading his fingers through James’s short hair and tugging. “Quit it,” James mumbles, and returns to his exploration of David’s body. “Okay,” Dave sighs, and lets James do whatever he thinks he needs to do. It turns out, though, that whatever James needs to do quickly becomes what Dave wants, and he finds himself writhing on the tangled sheets. He sucks David slowly, and Dave wants to bark “hurry up” at him because keeping him on the edge of coming for an hour isn’t conducive to a good mood. Then he changes his mind when James starts fisting his cock, pumping leisurely, and Dave wants it to last forever. He arches his neck on the pillow and bites his bottom lip to stifle a groan, but James’s chuckle from below indicates he knows anyway. “Forever” turns out to be another fifteen minutes, and when James takes him nearly full-length into his mouth and sucks hard, David closes his eyes and comes like he’s been waiting all night. He is vaguely aware of James finishing himself off with quick, short strokes, but he doesn’t watch. He looks at the starbursts behind his closed eyes instead. * * * They sleep late and wake up together only an hour before Jaime is due to return. James strolls out the front door, holding his shoes and his shirt. “Oh, hey,” he says, as an afterthought. Dave pauses, the door almost closed. “Yeah?” “Chris called. He and Vince wanna play darts tonight. You up?” David heaves a sigh. “Dunno. First night Jaime’s gonna be home, you know?” James cocks his head, looks at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, Dave,” he replies. “I know.” -End