#serechado

“You sure I can’t come home with you?” “I’ve told you man, there’s always a spot at the table for you. Grandmomma loves you—almost as much as she loves me, and she don’t love nobody.” “I’m catnip for grandmommas and mommas.” Jake grins. “It’s a heavy burden, but one all Seresin men carry.” “You’re so full of shit.” Javy laughs, his face lighting up even more as his shoulders shake, leaning heavily against Jake. There’s a spark under his skin from where his and Javy’s body connects, and once more he tries, he tries so hard to shove that back down, back into the proper hiding places. “I also know your momma’s fixing up a right spread for you too.” “She does. She’s also been blowing my phone up with all sorts of details about the party she’s throwing.” Jake says, settling back against the couch more. Javy’s arm is slung against the back, and it brings him closer to Javy’s body. Jake takes a steadying breath. Another mistake. Javy smells like cedarwood and orange, and if Jake closes his eyes, he can almost taste the orange on his tongue from Javy’s cologne. He can feel the warm vibration in the other man’s chest when Javy says his name. Jake blinks, realizing he’s been staring at Javy’s profile for the last five minutes. “You alright?” “Yeah, just thinkin’ I’m gonna miss you.” Javy chuckles, head tipping back against the couch. “Jake, it’s a couple weeks of leave. Then we’ll be shipped out somewhere, and you’ll be tired of me.” “I can’t get tired of you Machado.” Jake says. “You’re my best friend man.” There’s a twinge in his chest when he says that last bit. A small part of him, the one that he keeps buried in the dark, deep down inside dies a little bit at the title of friend. He can’t, he won’t. There’s too much riding on a very thin line. A thin line that’s becoming harder and harder not to cross. “Jake,” Javy’s voice curls against his ear. He swallows hard, turning to see Javy only millimeters away from him. Jake’s heart is in his throat, there’s a dull roaring his ears, an ache in his chest. There’s a warmth on his skin, Javy’s hand on his cheek, fingers bringing Jake closer, the distance closing between them in what feels like eons. The first brush of lips against his, isn’t enough. “Please,” Jake whispers. “Like you mean it Javy, if you mean it.” Javy’s fingers slide into Jake’s hair, a soft sigh emanating from one, both, who knows. There’s thirty seconds of a clock ticking away desperately, Javy’s mouth slotting over Jake’s. No more hesitation, nothing but the feeling of Javy’s lips against his. He tastes like stale coffee and wintergreen gum, and it’s a combination that Jake knows he’s going to crave for months to come. The worn leather of the couch squeaks, when Javy leans over him, their chests crushed together. Jake’s hands frame Javy’s face, tongue swiping against Javy’s lower lip, a soft sound coming from him when he’s granted access to Javy’s mouth. “Tell you what,” Javy murmurs. Calloused thumb brushing over Jake’s lower lip. They’re both panting, Jake knows he’s flushed, a bit starry eyed. “You go home for the first week, let your momma fuss over you. Then you come see me.” “So, your grandmomma can fuss over me?” Jake asks, smile easy and playful. “That, and so I can fuss over you proper like.” “I’d like that.” Jake says. “I’d definitely like that.” Javy’s lips are warm and soft when they press against Jake’s cheek. “I’ll make sure that grandmomma knows the white boy from Texas is coming. She does love to feed you.” /end