moonshine

But MS2 is kicking Jack’s ass, and it’s well known that Robby is at the top of their class so he asks him for help.

Robby agrees, but keeps an eye out for any ulterior motives.

To his surprise, there are none. Jack is a perfect gentleman and is constantly in awe of how good of a teacher Robby is. It makes his chest swell with pride. The more time Robby spends tutoring Jack the more he wants to spend time with him outside of that, maybe go to dinner or a movie, and Robby has this strange urge to ask for Jack’s coat. Oh, fuck. He likes this alpha.

Of course he likes the one alpha that isn’t interested.

Robby starts wearing lower cut tops that show off his neck and don’t suppress his scent, he also brings food to share to Jack’s tutoring sessions and makes sure to lean in extra close when he’s explaining something. Nothing works.

Meanwhile, Jack feels like he’s liable to combust at any moment. He’s trying so so hard to be respectful, but after every study session with Robby he has to run home and jerk off like the exact type of knotheads Robby hates. It’s getting harder to resist asking for the opportunity to court him, but Jack still isn’t willing to be met with reality.

robby’s a good friend, and he’s driving jack to the church, and he’s sitting beside him in the hard pew, close enough to feel the hot grief radiating, but not too close, not enough to touch. just a rough pat on the shoulder when jack sits back down, gaze empty. just a brush at his waist to assure him, guide him through the well-meaning, faceless crowd.

robby’s a good friend, and he’s stopping jack from drinking himself silly at her wake, she wouldn’t want this, jack, let’s go home.

robby’s a good friend, and he’s undressing his friend, but not like that, no matter how much he’s always wanted to. he’s a good friend. jack insists on one last drink, just one, and then one more, that’s enough. and he’s making sure he’s had enough water, and cleans him up, and tucks him back into bed, because where else can you go when your life has collapsed around you. and he’s removing himself, like a good friend, when he feels a calloused hand on his arm, strong, trembling, pleading. stay. please, please stay.

robby’s a good friend.

he’s sliding himself, half undressed, into a bed that’s not his.

he’s holding on, being held on to, doing his best to be a port in the storm for the broken, weeping man in his arms.

he’s startling when he feels wandering hands, tentative lips brushing, salty and wet, and he’s protesting, but his heart’s not really in it.

please, jack begs, please, i need this. please give this to me.

and robby’s a good friend.

so he’s kissing him back. and it’s easy, and sure, robby loves him, and he loves her, but it’s just what he needs right now. that’s all.

he’s letting jack touch him, more of him, and touching in turn, hot, wet, roving. the alcohol on jack’s breath, and the heat of the room, and the weight of their lives, all of it, suffocates him.

he’s being rough with it, like jack wants.

he’s digging bruises into his hips, and biting his lips, and when jack pleads for more, he’s a good friend.

he’s flipping him over and pressing, and pushing, heavy and unforgiving. and then he’s fucking him into the mattress, hard, tears mixing and soaking into the spot where she used to lie. jack’s begging for more, more, to be torn open, to forget. robby’s begging, too, but he’s not sure what for. and it hurts him to do this, like this, it does, but he’s a good friend, has always been a good friend.

jack wails when he comes, muffled, agonizing, and robby can’t quite make out what he says.

he’s holding him again, sweat cooling, and it feels different.

he’s awake, suddenly, and the bed is ice cold.

he’s tiptoeing into the kitchen and jack is there, dark, at the table, with his head in his hands. i’m sorry. i think you should leave.

he’s collecting his clothes from the floor, and shrugging his suit jacket back on, and locking the door behind him. he doesn’t speak of it, and when the guilt and grief comes, crushing and hungry and in the dead of night, he bears it alone.