#iwantthek

Gaming nights were becoming a common thing with the twoheisters, enough that it was almost predictable that they would be in front ofthe television for hours during those times Jacket visited the safe house.Tonight was a little different, though. A challenge had been presented, alittle bet of sorts. Jacket was good at racing games, but Sokol wanted to provethat he can not only improve quickly, but enough where he could start beatingthe other.

The catch? For every loss that person had to either take ashot, or drink half of a bottle of beer. One was definitely a lower alcoholcontent, but that was just in case there was being too much consumed. Theycouldn’t let a friendly bet turn into alcohol poisoning.

The beginning of the game went just as expected; Sokol hadlost, putting him at two beers before the mute finally had to take a drink. Bythe way the other had lost—spinning out after being rammed into by anothercar—the Russian had to wonder if he didn’t recover quickly on purpose, lettinghim go past. Either way, it was a shot of vodka that Jacket had chosen.

While Jacket had the advantage when it came to drivinggames, Sokol had the advantage when it came to sobriety. That one shot was justthe beginning of others as the mute’s skill at controlling his vehicle began todiminish with every glass he tilted back, meanwhile the Russian’s handlingbarely changed. His focus, though, became more intent just to make sure hedidn’t mess up.

He didn’t know when his head came to rest upon Jacket’s lapbut after some initial staring on the mute’s part, there was no effort to movehim away. The Floridian merely laid his arm against his coworker’s forehead,half blocking his view until Sokol moved to correct the problem. The change inposition disrupted the mute, causing him to spin out again. Instead of forminga complaint via cassette player at the lack of fairness, he leaned forward tograb a beer this time.

If asked, Sokol truly couldn’t answer as to what promptedhim to turn his head. Maybe it was because he was being smothered by the other’schest. If that was the case he would have turned in the other direction, not toward the cause of the problem and hecertainly wouldn’t have nosed his way beneath the other’s shirt to press his lipsagainst his skin. The both of them seemed to freeze in tandem, Sokol due toexpecting some form of violent retaliation, and Jacket due to the sudden surgeof anxiety that passed through him.

And yet, he stillwasn’t pushed away.

Call it liquid courage, call it idiot’s bravado. Whatever itwas, the former hockey player took advantage of this shock and dropped thecontroller to the rug as he turned to his side, lessening the awkward angle of hisneck. The new position furthered his reach and soon his lips were felt oncemore, grazing against the angle of his hip. 

Slowly, steadily, he worked his wayalong the skin just above the line of his jeans, pausing only to linger beneathhis navel where he breathed him in before he continued on. He wasn’t satisfieduntil his path ended at the opposite hip, but not the touch. His nose grazedover the skin then the shirt as it was allowed to fall back down.

He didn’t move or open his eyes when Jacket finally startedto straighten up after what felt like an eternity of stillness. He could hearhim slowly breathing beneath the mask and, for a moment, Sokol wasn’t sure ifit was to keep him from doing something rash or other reasons all together.What he was sure about was the thread of tension that stretched across hisshoulders when he heard the recorder being picked up. He didn’t expect that itwouldn’t come crashing down into his temple. Just like he didn’t expect tolaugh harder than he should have when the fast forwarding scrape of cassetteended, followed by a click.

“[I really enjoyed that.]”