Perhaps sensing that Jamie needed a push, Marc took his own hands out of the equation and folded them behind his head. Jamie gazed down at him, heart thumping. He wanted Marc more than he’d ever wanted anyone—anything—but the fear of what would come after paralysed him. Marc wouldn’t use him and throw him away, but how long would it be before he realised that fucking and dusting shelves was all Jamie was good for? That once they were both sated and covered in come, Jamie had nothing left to give?
“Jamie.”
There was no demand in how Marc said Jamie’s name, but it travelled through Jamie in ways he couldn’t describe, drawing his gaze back to Marc’s face, reclaiming it from the vacant fog it had drifted to. Jamie sucked in a painful breath and fell headfirst into Marc’s bottomless stare. In it, he found warmth and trust—he found faith—and his hand moved to the bottle of lube of its own accord.
“Yeah,” Marc said lowly, his voice hardly more than a growl. “Take what you want. You’re safe with me, Jamie.”
That, Jamie had never doubted. Even on the plane, trapped in his own ridiculous fears thousands of feet above the Atlantic, Jamie’s heart had found solace in Marc’s healing hands. And now it was his turn to show Marc all they could be, with sure swift strokes and squeezing fingers. He rubbed lube into his palm and then gripped their cocks. The answering jolt of pleasure was instant, and he threw his head back, thrusting his hips forward, absorbing Marc’s gravelly moan.
His hand was barely big enough to hold them both, and the lube made his fingers slippery, but what he lacked in grip he made up for with a devilish twisting rhythm that made his own eyes roll, and Marc arch his spine from the bed. Jamie longed to take Marc in his mouth, but a selfish need to see Marc’s face as he came was too strong. And Marc didn’t keep him waiting. His dick was bigger than Jamie’s—thicker, longer—and it pulsed in Jamie’s hand, sending hot spurts of come over his fingers a split second before Marc choked out a warning.
Jamie watched Marc jerk and twitch, his skin flushed and shiny, the tendons in his neck straining so tight they would surely snap. Marc’s gasping groans sent shockwaves through Jamie, and the sight of his own dick still sliding in and out of the sticky mess sent him tumbling over the edge. He came with a yell, shooting hard, his hips thrusting brutally until his dick couldn’t take any more.
He fell onto Marc’s chest, his lungs screaming for air, and clung to Marc like he could tie him down to the world and keep them both together, here, like this. Marc’s arms closed, vicelike, around Jamie and crushed him in the kind of embrace Jamie had only dreamed of before. He wove his fingers into Jamie’s sweat-dampened hair and whispered nonsense in Jamie’s ear until Jamie came back to the present.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
It wasn’t a sentiment that Jamie particularly needed to hear—at least, he thought he hadn’t, until the weight of Marc’s murmured words seeped into him and his pulse slowed to a tattoo that he could handle. Zac had told him about this the night before Jamie had nearly got him killed—how being with Liam had been so wonderful it frightened him. That he’d felt so safe and loved that he’d honestly believed it wasn’t real. Zac had been broken that night, convinced that he’d lost Liam for good, but Jamie wasn’t broken now, just afraid... afraid that the sensation of utter bliss he felt in Marc’s arms couldn’t be real. “Marc—”
“Shh. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you for a while. Relax, okay? Stop thinking... just feel, mate. You’re safe with me.”
Safe. It wasn’t a word that Jamie had much experience with, especially naked in a bed with a bloke who could likely hold him down with one hand. But Marc wasn’t a liar. And despite the chaos in Jamie’s soul, hedidfeel safe with Marc, even though it could only be a matter of time before things went to shit.
They always did.
* * *
But when Jamie woke the following morning, the hammer had yet to fall. Marc’s bed felt right, and his warm body when Jamie rolled over and cuddled against his side felt even better.
Marc chuckled as Jamie entangled their legs and pushed his face against Marc’s ribs. “Sleep well?”
“I think so. What time is it?”
“Half six.”
“In the morning?”
“Yup.”
“Jesus.” Jamie glanced at the window to see the lightening sky. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”
“Really? ’Cause you passed out on me after— Well, you know. I thought I’d done you in.”
Jamie smirked, hoping that there was enough darkness to hide the heat in his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to crash on you. I was kind of hoping for another round.”
“Yeah?” Marc trailed his fingers down Jamie’s bare back. “I was worried that you were freaking out. You’re restless when you sleep, like you’ve got something on your mind.”
“Nothing that I haven’t told you,” Jamie said with a shiver. “Sorry if I fucked up your night. Didn’t kick you, did I?”
“Nah, you just mumbled a lot, but you settled when I came back to bed.”
“You left me?” Jamie’s heart stuttered. “Why?”
“Because I can’t sleep for eighteen hours at a time. We slept all day, remember?”
“Oh. Sorry.” Jamie started to sit up, embarrassment licking the contented bubble he’d woken up in. “I should probably get going—”
Marc’s arms pinned Jamie in place, and his lips silenced him, cutting dead any thoughts of leaving the bed. Jamie pulled on Marc’s shoulders, craving Marc’s weight on him, pressing down on him, digging into him in all the right spots, but Marc didn’t budge, and it didn’t take long for Jamie’s frustration to boil over. Marc’s touch made him crazy, and he wanted more, however he could get it.