“What the fuck are you asking about French toast for?” Jackson sniped as he swung open the door to his apartment. He was surprised when eager lips pressed hungrily against his, the passion and want evident with every swirl of his lover’s tongue. Grunting when his body hit the wall, Jackson smiled into the kiss as the redhead attempted to tongue his way through Jack, zealous hands traveling up the back of his wife-beater and then down the waistband of his basketball shorts. Large fingers kneaded his ass cheeks as Evan’s mouth dropped to Jack’s neck and began to suck marks into his skin. “Got to talk to you.” He gulped in air.
“About what?” Evan asked breathlessly, lifting his head and looking at Jackson with blown-out brown eyes.
Jack sighed and pointed out the obvious. “You’re high.”
Evan rubbed his thumb against his nostril and shrugged. “Usually am.”
“Why?” Jackson studied Evan’s face, searching for the fluctuations of emotion he saw in the early morning hours, only able to find impassivity hidden by carnal desire. “You got a habit or something?”
“Did I come here for therapy or to fuck? ‘Cause if it’s going to be therapy I’ll go get off somewhere else,” he growled, the venom in his voice sending chills down Jackson’s spine. The anger. The antagonism. He’d seen it many times before; he just hadn’t wanted to see it in Evan.
“You’re an addict.” Jackson wasn’t sure if he’d uttered the realization aloud but when Evan pulled away, yup, he had.
“You’re an asshole,” Evan replied, yanking his wrist back and jutting his chin out when Jackson wouldn’t let him go.
“Where you going? Going to find some other guy to fuck?” he challenged, eyebrows raised high and teeth gnashing into his bottom lip. “That’s what you want, huh? Well, you can go right ahead, but I want you to stay.” He dropped Evan’s arm and threw up his hands in surrender. “Up to you.”
The redhead exhaled breath noisily and glared. “Don’t say shit about it again. Sick of people telling me what I am.”
“All right,” Jackson agreed, knowing that it wasn’t a promise he could keep long-term, but would honor for the night. They had other shit to talk about anyway. He looked at Evan, recognizing how closed off he was with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his back slumped. “Hey,” Jack said softly, resting his hands on Evan’s hips and squeezing them gently. “I like pancakes.”
“Yeah?” Evan’s mouth broke into a grin.
Jackson nodded. “Don’t know why you give a shit, but I do.”
“Honestly,” Evan began with a laugh, “I have no clue. It popped into my head, so I asked.”
“Hmm,” Jackson hummed, dropping his hands and making his way into the kitchen with Evan trailing behind him. “You want some?”
“What?”
“Pancakes.” Jack grabbed a pan from the drawer and glanced over his shoulder for the go-ahead.
“I could eat,” the redhead answered, narrowing his eyes as he watched Jackson take out some pancake mix and get to work. “You’re making me pancakes right now?”
“Looks like it.”
“You need help or something?” Evan pulled himself up onto the counter and let his legs hang, closely watching Jackson whisk the batter.
“Pancakes are pretty fucking easy, man,” he said with a smile. “I got this.” He desperately tried to remain nonchalant as he poured the mixture into the hot pan. “So you wanted to know some other shit, too, right?”
“Don’t remember.” Evan dropped his gaze to his knees.
“I bet,” Jackson mused as he waited for the batter to bubble. “You into fucking girls?”
“What?” Evan’s head shot up and he looked at Jackson as if he had two heads.
“My sister told me she met you at some club and you were going to fuck my ex. You into girls, too?” Jack asked with an uncomfortable sniff.
“Not really. I never liked it, but I did it when I had to.”
“When you had to?”
“If I needed a place to stay or some shit. Only fucked them when I needed something,” Evan explained with a shrug. “You were in a pretty serious relationship with her though, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I mean, it was serious, yeah, but I don’t think I was ever in it.”
“She said you two never fucked,” Evan informed him, drawing an aggravated huff from Jackson.
“She’s got a big fucking mouth, don’t she?” He shook his head as he flipped the pancakes. “I tried to avoid it as much as possible.”
“You try to fuck me as much as possible,” Evan stated, looking down at his palms, which held a red hue from, Jackson guessed, paint.
“Yeah, ‘cause I want to fuck you,” he replied simply. “Didn’t want to fuck her. Just,” he sighed, “don’t like girls like that.”
“I don’t either. Never have.”
Jackson nodded. “What about credit cards, you like them?”
Evan punched out a laugh. “You’re hitting all your talking points right now, aren’t you?”
“Seems like,” Jack said with a smirk. He put a few pancakes on a plate, took out a fork and knife, and handed it all to Evan. “Don’t got any syrup though.”
“You’re not going to eat?” The redhead rested the plate on his thighs and took a big bite. “So good,” he complimented with his mouth full.
“Not hungry,” Jackson stated. “You going to answer my question?”
“I like them,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“They cancelled their cards,” Jackson informed him.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Mmmhmm,” Evan nodded. “Got to do what I got to do, you know that. But it doesn’t mean I’m interested in going out of my way to fuck over people you give a shit about.”
“Only care about Amy,” Jackson said, leaning his back against the refrigerator. “Don’t fuck with her again.”
“Didn’t even get her numbers,” Evan said. It was partially true after all. He didn’t, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. There didn’t seem to be any point of going there, especially when Jackson had made him pancakes and was looking sexy as hell.
“That right?”
“That’s right,” Evan confirmed, putting the plate on the counter.
“So, they got you on party?” It was more a statement than a question, even though Jack hadn’t phrased it as such. He knew exactly how they were utilizing Evan. The redhead nodded. “They’re fucking using you ‘cause you’re hot.”
“You think I’m hot,” Evan teased in a sing-songy tone, smiling when Jackson straightened up and moved closer so he could stand between Evan’s legs and rub his thighs.
“Know I do,” Jack assured him, licking Evan’s lips, a clear indication that Jack wanted to be kissed. Evan eagerly obliged, hunching down to connect their mouths and draping his arms over Jackson’s shoulders as their tongues tangled languidly.
“Don’t like that they got you doing that,” Jackson muttered, once they peeled their lips apart. “Don’t like them treating you like a whore.”
“Not fucking anyone.”
“Don’t got to.”
“Whores fuck for money. If I’m not fucking, I’m not a whore,” Evan explained with a yawn.
“Coming down?”
Evan nodded. “You pissed me the fuck off so I think it accelerated shit.”
“Blaming it on me, huh?” Jackson didn’t want to look at Evan differently after recognizing his addiction, but it was impossible not to. His toughness and stubbornness remained intact, but his edges were softened and his heart was fragile. Jackson felt an overwhelming desire to take care of him, but when it came down to it, he knew he couldn’t, not when it came to the drugs.
Cocaine was a storm that couldn’t be controlled, not in the way Evan needed it to be. Jackson’s mom had been an addict. He knew the manipulation and mayhem that ensued when you were in a relationship with someone who was in a relationship with drugs. He wanted to believe that he would able to help him, but it was unlikely. It didn’t mean shit to want something for an addict if they didn’t want it for themselves. To be with Evan, Jack knew he’d need to accept the fact that, at least for now, he was going to be with a functional addict and there wasn’t shit he could do about it.
He wasn’t a fucking saint himself; he drank too much and smoked like a goddamn chimney. He enjoyed violence and got off on pain. It would be hypocritical to put himself above Evan and look at him like he needed to be fucking saved. Still, the irony of being a dealer and ending up fucking a guy with a constant cold wasn’t lost on him.
“C’mon,” Jack urged, signaling for Evan to jump down. “You look fucking beat.”
“I hate talking. Fucking wipes me out,” Evan informed with another exaggerated yawn. “You literally drained the horniness from my cock with all your blah-blah.”
“Do you ever stop and reflect on the crazy-ass shit that comes out of your mouth? Because you come up with some fucking stupid shit,” Jackson chided without malice as he led Evan into the bedroom and helped him out of his clothes. He traced his fingers over the streaks of red paint that spread across his lover’s toned abs. “Goddamn,” he muttered, taking in the view and thinking it was even better than he’d imagined it. He patted Evan’s ass as the redhead crawled into the bed.
“We were going to fuck,” Evan mumbled, snuggling under the covers, his hooded lids making it exceedingly clear that they weren’t going to be. “Came over so we could fuck.”
Jackson rolled his eyes and disrobed, climbing into the bed next to Evan. Whether or not they had sex, he’d gotten what he sought from the night; some answers he’d needed and others he wished he hadn’t found out. He raked his fingers through soft red hair as the sleepy man molded himself around his body. “No you didn’t.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why am I here then?” Evan asked, tucking his face into the crook of Jackson’s neck and peppering the skin with soft kisses.
“You came over to be my boyfriend,” Jack whispered, too uncomfortable to say the word loud, though the concept didn’t feel unnatural, at least not with Evan.
“And?” he asked, shifting his head so he could gaze up, his eyes filled with as much fear as hope.
“And you are.”