Jack was long past the point of absorbing anything that wasn’t transmitted through his skin, but the word military managed to cut through all the primal instincts fogging his brain. With just that one word, everything about Gabe’s confession fell into place. Say no more, Jack would have said if Gabe’s mouth hadn’t captured his with a hunger he was only too eager to match, I get it. And if Gabe hadn’t made that noise deep in his throat as he pushed Jack back against the door, igniting a thrill that burned fiercely wherever their bodies touched, Jack might have even continued with an admission of his own: Me, I had the whole package – Navy dad, Navy big brother, both macho assholes with no tolerance for anyone not straight, and also did I mention I was not-so-briefly a cop?
Commiseration would have to wait until later, though. Much later. Jack never had a hard time talking and relating to people, one of the many reasons he made a much better bartender than a cop. He was easy-going, personable, and, sure, maybe a little self-oriented, but that didn’t cramp his genuine interest in what other people had to say. At the same time, though, words were never quite enough to really know a person. They got in the way, diverting from and sometimes fully obstructing the truth. Jack would know. He was great at those words.
People could hide themselves in words, but they couldn’t in a kiss. And when Jack kissed another person, it was the only time in his life that he was completely honest. With himself, about himself. He put everything he had into every kiss, in the hopes of getting everything back. Bonding over shared life experiences had its place, but it didn’t compare to the pure, uncomplicated power of two people sharing a physical attraction and acting on it. How could it? Jack never felt more connected to another human being than at the point when words became unnecessary and a touch said everything he needed to say.
And there was so much he needed to say to Gabe. Weeks and weeks of it.
This is all I’ve thought about for weeks. Somehow a breathy laugh escaped as Jack’s involuntary smile broke the seal of their lips at their matching thoughts, but only for a moment. He said me too in the way he made up for that brief, practically infinitesimal loss of connection with a tilt of his head that allowed for a deeper, more insistent kiss. One hand grabbed a bicep framing his face, while the other slid under Gabe’s shirt and around his back.
Part of him wanted nothing more than to remove that shirt, but at the same time, there was something deeply arousing about skimming his fingers across Gabe’s skin underneath it, roaming for more despite the constraint. The warmth of Gabe’s bare skin electrified Jack. How many seconds passed before his touch grew more urgent – two, three? It hardly mattered, because all at once his exploratory roving halted into an insistent tug of Gabe’s hips against his that said the one thing he needed to say: more.
He didn’t know how it was possible to feel like he was melting in Gabe’s arms and getting harder all at once. He didn’t really care, either. They wanted the same thing – they wanted each other – and that was enough.
Breaking the kiss long enough to growl a breathless, “Oh, I’m good,” Jack pushed forward, off the door and into Gabe and toward the bed. “I’m very good.”