Lazy Mornings
by Mythdefied
January 2005
There was something about mornings. Not that Jett was in any way a
morning person, or an afternoon one for that matter. He was more suited
to the night, the degrees of darkness that let him move about unseen,
sliding from the shadows to take out his targets, then blending back in
with ease. It was like a second home to him.
His first home though, well. He'd learned to tolerate mornings early
on, enjoy them more often than not, even if he never could feel
entirely awake or alert. It meant dropping his guard, that tiredness,
just a little, but more than he'd ever tolerate under any other
circumstances. Joxer was always a special circumstance for Jett,
though.
Always.
His arm was going numb, Jett thought, feeling a slight tingling
starting at the tips of his fingers, but he didn't try to move it, pull
it out from under Joxer. He continued to lightly stroke his fingers
back and forth along Joxer's spine, regardless of the pins and needles
sensation sparking through his skin; Joxer was relaxing more and more
into that stroking and Jett liked feeling that, the drape of Joxer's
body against him, over him.
Sprawled naked across the bed, covers long ago cast aside, Jett let his
eyes drift shut and just enjoyed the sensation of Joxer pressed up
along his side, one leg thrown over his. Joxer was the real morning
person, waking up Jett with his hands and mouth when he couldn't stand
watching Jett sleep anymore, impatience and need moving him to action.
And that first quick tumble in the morning made waking up at such a
gods bedamned early hour bearable for Jett. Joxer said he didn't seem
nearly as ready to kill something if Joxer woke him up in a good way.
If it made him happy to think that...Jett supposed it didn't hurt
anything.
Early wasn't just a time Joxer liked, it was also, according to him, a
time when not many people in the household were up. Certainly not their
parents and if they were quiet enough, the few slaves up and about
getting things ready for the day would never learn a thing.
A smirk flittered across Jett's lips. Joxer's ability to delude himself
grew by the year. As if the slaves didn't already know exactly what was
going on in Joxer's bedroom. Hades, it was probably the worst kept
secret in the city, let alone the household, not that Joxer would ever
know that. It would humiliate him, probably make him leave home despite
being too young, and Jett wouldn't allow it to happen. Athens was
sporting a far larger population of toungeless people than most cities
these days, but it was a lesson quickly picked up by others and Joxer
would keep his illusions.
"You're not paying attention, Jett." Joxer's accusation was pointed but
faintly amused all the same.
Jett opened his eyes, lazily stretching his other arm above his head
for a long moment. The pull on his muscles felt good but also put into
sharp contrast just how numb the arm beneath Joxer was getting.
"Of course I was," Jett said, sliding his free arm behind his head.
Joxer's voice, that constant stream of babble he'd kept up since their
last tussle wound down had been a pleasant background noise for Jett,
as it always was. Joxer had the amazing ability to never shut up, to
find endless things to talk about and never repeat himself, even if
there was little point to what he said. And Jett liked it. Oh, not all
the time. It annoyed him to no end when he was trying to practice
weapons or concentrate on the work the family tutor assigned, and then
he had no problem giving Joxer a good whack to shut him up. Or, if that
failed, as it often did, gagging him. But in these long, lazy mornings
when neither of them had responsibilities to tend to, Jett liked the
sound of Joxer's voice. It washed over him, a warm, comfortable drone
that relaxed him. It didn't mean he wasn't paying attention though. He
never ceased to pay attention to Joxer.
"You think you want to try working with a real sword," Jett said,
sarcasm touching his tone to let Joxer know what he thought of that
idea. "You're gonna try grabbing one from the armory this afternoon
when Dad's men have finished practice and no one's around -- not gonna
happen. You're hoping we have fresh rolls for breakfast. You think the
wine crop this year isn't as good as last year's -- it isn't; too
bitter." Jett continued to list the topics Joxer had covered in the
past half hour or so, his fingers still stroking along Joxer's back as
he spoke, although they'd lost all sensation.
"And you're hoping to get out of that fitting Mom's arranged for us
next week since we grew out of our last set of clothes -- I'm planning
on 'forgetting' about the appointment and spending the day sleeping by
the lake; you can keep me company," he concluded.
Joxer was grinning. That bright, wide grin that made him look both like
a young man who was utterly happy, and like a complete idiot. But he
was Jett's idiot, and Jett adored that grin. Of course, "adored" wasn't
a word that he'd be speaking aloud anytime soon, or even in this
lifetime. Kind of like the word "beautiful," although Joxer was, to
Jett.
He'd heard people use other, far less flattering descriptions for both
Joxer and his talking over the years, but he never heard them more than
once from the same source. It'd taken a bit of practice, learning how
to remove eyes and ears without bleeding someone to death -- and he
honestly preferred just a straight kill, but a lesson couldn't be
learned as well from a simple death, could it? Not as well as a
mangled, living body could teach it, Jett had found.
Joxer knew; he wasn't that
oblivious. But Jett hadn't done anything right in front of him for
years. Joxer accepted what Jett did, or maybe just the fact that Jett
wasn't going to stop defending Joxer in his unique way, but he didn't
like it and the few times he'd seen Jett at work, he hadn't been able
to conceal his horror or disgust and those were things Jett never wanted to see again. He
wanted this grin from Joxer, he wanted Joxer's brilliant smiles, his
laughter, his eye rolls when he was exasperated, the broken groans and
cries he made when he couldn't stay silent under Jett anymore.
Of course, Jett had made Joxer wince before, cringe when he knew Jett
was about to hit him, but that was something completely different. He'd
never hurt Joxer like that, annoyed and momentarily scared him, true,
but no lasting pain, no damage. When Joxer had seen him kill though,
Jett was certain it had hurt Joxer. Nothing physical, but that horrible
look in his eyes had taken days to go away, weeks once, and Jett
couldn't stand to see it. It'd become easier to just take care of
things away from Joxer's notice, mostly at night now when Joxer could
be counted on to be deeply asleep and not tagging along after him.
"So can I borrow your sword then?" Joxer asked, pushing himself up on
one elbow, freeing Jett's arm in the process. "Or you could just come
with me and help me get a good sword out of the armory."
"Forget it." Jett snorted. "You're sticking with the wooden one, Jox."
He flexed his fingers, painful as the blood rushed back into them. "I'm
not gonna help you find a way to cut off some body part you'll probably
need later in life."
Joxer rolled his eyes. "I cut the top of my foot that one time, Jett, and you've gotta
drag it out every time since."
"Yeah," Jett stretched out his arm completely, opening and closing his
hand, "because you didn't learn from it. Your sword work still sucks."
"Does not." Joxer gave him a gentle shove, hand on his chest.
"Does too." Jett wasn't arguing, just stating a fact. He didn't push
back either so Joxer gave in with a dramatic sigh and another long roll
of his eyes.
"Can I at least try out that second set of throwing knives you picked
up?"
Jett couldn't help but laugh, a sharp bark of humor that made Joxer
wince and hiss at him to keep it down.
"What if someone hears?" he whispered.
"Like I'm gonna let you near
those," Jett said in a normal tone, ignoring Joxer's worries. "You do remember what happened with the
last set of knives, right? Or did you already 'rewrite' that little bit
of history in that mind of yours?" The feeling was back in his arm and
hand now; he reached up to gently poke Joxer in the forehead in time
with his last few words.
"Knock it off." Joxer swatted his hand away, scrunching up his nose.
"And it wasn't that bad last time, you're just being annoying."
Jett snorted. "Uh, yeah, Jox. It wasn't bad that you killed the
neighbor's cattle."
"It was only the one cow," Joxer protested mulishly.
"I think Clytius had a...special relationship with that cow," Jett
said, only half teasing.
"Jett, that's sick!" Joxer nudged him sharply, knee digging into Jett's
thigh. But Joxer was smiling too and there wasn't a hint of real
offense in his tone.
"The guy mourned for months," Jett said, smirking. "Plus, Dad had to
pay him twice what that cow was worth to get Clytius to shut up.
Should've just let me take care of it," he muttered that under his
breath.
"Anyway, that was almost a whole year ago," Joxer said, shrugging one
shoulder. "I'm way better than I was then."
Before he could give that the scathing reply it deserved, Jett was
distracted by Joxer's hand coming to rest on his stomach. Long fingers
spread outward, brushing gently over the soft skin of his belly.
"You'll be right there with me." Joxer's voice lowered. "You can tell
me if I'm doing anything wrong."
Jett managed to keep the smirk planted firmly on his lips, even as
Joxer slid his hand slowly upwards. "You already started out wrong,"
Jett said, never taking his eyes from that wandering hand. "You're not
gonna--" he broke off with a soft hiss as Joxer's fingers brushed over
his right nipple. "Not gonna seduce me into letting you do whatever you
want," he finished, forcing his eyes from Joxer's hand to his face.
Joxer frowned, but it was fleeting. Then he shrugged again. "It's
worked before," he said, his smile returning.
"Only when I let it," Jett pointed out.
"Really?" Joxer raised a skeptical eyebrow -- and rubbed his thumb hard
over Jett's nipple.
Jett's eyes snapped shut as an involuntary shiver went through him.
Joxer knew his weaknesses and how to use them, Jett had to give him
credit for that, and reluctant admiration. Another hard rub, just this
side of painful and Jett gasped, mouth falling open.
Yeah, forget the spare knives, if he let Joxer keep that up he'd find
himself handing over his best sword with nothing more than a whimper of
protest.
And Joxer would probably end up seriously hurting himself.
That thought let Jett grab Joxer's wrist, let him put a stop to that
wonderful friction before Joxer moved to pinching, because Jett knew he
wouldn't have a coherent though in his head past that point.
"C'mon Jett." Joxer's voice dropped to a murmur, his tone teasing,
coaxing.
Lips pressed against Jett's cheek, a soft, lingering kiss. And then
Joxer sank his teeth into Jett's shoulder, not enough to draw blood,
but more than enough to leave a mark, to make Jett gasp and arch up
into the pain/pleasure of it.
Joxer knew him too well,
damnit. Another bite and he'd have Jett agreeing to anything and
everything and no way was Jett letting that happen.
Letting go of Joxer's wrist, Jett grabbed his shoulders instead and
rolled them both over, pinning Joxer beneath him. Joxer laughed, his
own caution against noise apparently forgotten as that bright,
surprised laughter bubbled out, accompanied by an equally bright grin.
"What're you doing, Jett?" He asked, although the sparkle of
anticipation in his eyes gave away the fact that he was well aware of
why Jett was grabbing his wrists in one hand, forcing them up over his
head. Joxer didn't resist.
Jett didn't say anything, just grinned down at Joxer. He couldn't
manage those open, friendly expressions of Joxer's, his tended towards
vicious and scary, but Joxer never seemed to mind. If anything, the
growing hardness Jett was feeling against his stomach said that Joxer
rather liked it. Or maybe it was just being held down. Joxer always
seemed to like that too. Maybe one of these days they'd have to try it
with real restraints.
"What d'you think about that?" Jett asked, leaning close, letting his
lips brush over Joxer's as he spoke.
"About what?" Joxer asked curiously, eyes wide and gleaming in Jett's
vision.
"Me, tying you up."
Joxer gasped, a sharp, sudden sound that sent warm breath over Jett's
lips, his cheeks. Joxer's eyes widened further and there was no trace
of fear or revulsion there, exactly the opposite, actually.
"Think you'd like that, huh?" Jett asked, nudging Joxer's legs apart
with his knee. "Ropes or leather? Your choice."
It wasn't a gasp this time, more of a...moan. "L--leather." Joxer's
voice was far more breathy than normal.
"Mmm, good choice, bro. Think I'll like you in leather." Jett closed
that last, minute distance to press his lips against Joxer's.
Soft lips that eagerly parted beneath his, slick, talented tongue that
slid into his mouth as Joxer pushed up against him. A slow rocking
motion that had Jett fully hard in seconds.
He tightened his grip on Joxer's wrist and that got him another gasp
and a hard buck of Joxer's hips against his.
"Yeah," Jett breathed the word, pulling back from the kiss, grin baring
his teeth as he worked a hand between them.
Joxer whimpered, his eyes snapping shut when Jett's hand closed around
them both.
Gods, Joxer was loud. Jett would never tell him that, hoped Joxer never
realized it because it was too good, hearing those small moans and
gasps escape when Joxer tried to control them, becoming cries and
outright yells when Joxer forgot about everything but enjoying himself,
enjoying Jett's hand stroking over them both, his grip tight on their
cocks, fingers sliding over the heads and that always sent Joxer
further over the edge.
Joxer planted his feet on the bed, perfect leverage for pushing up,
again and again into Jett's grip. Needing better leverage himself, Jett
let go of Joxer's wrists -- pleased to note that Joxer left his arms up
above his head -- and braced his hand on the mattress.
It took a few thrusts to find the rhythm Joxer wanted, that fast
jerking of his hips, sliding their cocks together in counterpoint. Then
he had it and they were suddenly there. That perfect place when every
move they made was together, one anticipating the next, skin against
skin, slick with sweat and pre-come and Jett's hand was sticky with it
and he tightened his grip just a bit more, knowing exactly when, how
much it would take.
Joxer yelled, hands clenching into fists above his head but still
staying exactly where Jett had put them, eyes flying open, gaze wide
but seeing nothing as he tensed beneath Jett.
Wetness splashing over his hand, across their stomachs, each spurt
making it easier for Jett to thrust into his hand, against Joxer's
twitching cock. Once, twice more and Jett gasped through clenched
teeth, hips snapping up, more heat between them, wet and sticky.
He let his head fall forward, eyes closing, muscles trembling, just
held himself there for a few long moments. He could hear Joxer's gasps,
loud in the air between them, feel them both starting to grow soft in
his grip, but he didn't let go. Not until Joxer shifted beneath him,
legs falling to the bed.
Jett didn't collapse on Joxer, had never done that. He lowered himself
carefully, sliding off to the side a bit so that he only half lay on
top of Joxer. He had to let go of them both, reluctantly did so, then
slid his hand up Joxer's stomach as he settled next to/on him. One leg
draped over Joxer's, head on Joxer's shoulder, Jett collected some of
their mingled come on his fingers, then brought it to his lips. Tongue
flicking out, he tasted it, salty and bitter and a hint of sweet that
had to be Joxer, because Jett didn't care for sweets.
Joxer made a slight whimpering noise and Jett looked up to find Joxer
watching him, his fingers, with wide, dark eyes. Longing, desire, maybe
a little hunger there, and Jett grinned and held his fingers out to
Joxer's mouth.
Joxer licked his fingers clean.
If Jett could've gotten hard again that soon, the feel of Joxer tongue
sliding over his fingers, between them, licking every drop of their
come off would've been enough to do it. But he needed longer than a
couple minutes and after three times already that morning, he thought
he'd be lucky if he could manage it again before that evening. Besides,
the morning was moving on and they'd have to be "officially" awake soon.
Not that Joxer seemed to care, with the way he was still licking Jett's
fingers, even after they were completely clean.
"So," Joxer said, tongue flicking out to slide between two fingers,
"can I have those knives?"
Jett laughed. He couldn't have stopped it and didn't bother trying. He
was still chuckling moments later when he pulled his fingers away from
Joxer and levered himself off the bed.
"Well, is that a yes or a no?" Joxer asked, sitting up.
Jett just shook his head and used an edge of the bed sheet to wipe off
his chest and stomach. "You're impossible, Jox," he said with a fond
grin.
"Am not." Joxer didn't quite frown, didn't look sure if he'd been
insulted or not. "You didn't answer me," he said, his own grin
returning as he too used the bed sheet for his cleanup.
"No, I didn't." Reaching down, Jett grabbed hold of a handful of
Joxer's hair and pulled him into a hard kiss, cutting off Joxer's
pained yelp.
"See you at breakfast, bro," he said against Joxer's lips, then
released him gave him a light shove.
Joxer fell back on the bed with another yelp, this one surprised. Jett
was sure Joxer would have plenty to say about that, but he was already
across the room and opening the door that separated their rooms before
Joxer drew breath enough to say it.
"Hey! Wait a min--!"
Jett shut the door with a grin.
Fin
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