The Magpie's Death

Too Honest (2)

Sam slid partially off the stool. A single boot hit the floor, but he didn't break eye contact.

"You're skipping over a lot of the story."

"I don't need the rest." Jack sat up straight again, answering as if the conclusion was obvious. He really was naïve. "You ran away. You were planning to leave her here. Why did you come back?"

"I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to be the Magpie."

With a sweet smile, Jack finished the rest for him. "Because you want to be Ellie's father."

Sam nodded, shifting fully off the stool.

"And this had to happen for you to come back." Jack pointed to his bandaged shoulder and he nodded again.

His face and chest were hot, but not only from the alcohol. The smells coming from Jack's mouth as he spoke and his body as he moved in his seat – every little thing made his head dizzy. He didn't want to have this conversation anymore. He didn't want to think about anything anymore.

Jack leaned closer, their faces only inches apart. "Finn was right. It's all in the eyes."

"Stop talking."

Grabbing Jack by the back of the neck with one hand, Sam forced their lips together. Using his other hand, he lifted him up off the stool. Legs wrapped around his waist and fingers were tangled in his hair. Suddenly, a tongue was in his mouth.

He growled and pushed his back up against the island as the tongue moved from his mouth, down his neck, to his shoulder. Then fingers moved from his hair, down to his Adam's apple and between his collarbones. They rested for only a second before drifting sideways, brushing across his chest.

He let out a breath. He was a large, intimidating man, but he felt weak and helpless under Jack's touch. This feeling – the heat, the tension, the lack of air and thought and control - he had never felt this way and his body trembled with a newfound desperation.

Dropping his head, he bit at Jack's shoulder. There was a hushed moan in response and Sam started walking, carrying him to the back of the house.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked in a whisper.

Sam stopped in front of the locked door. "Key." He only paused long enough to give his command, then returned his mouth to Jack's neck.

Pulling at Sam's hair, Jack shook his head. "Are you crazy?" His voice hissed out the question, strained in his mini panic attack. "My sister's in there!"

"And Ellie is in my bed. Key."

Jack groaned from a mix of pleasure and annoyance, reaching into his pocket.

"You are so frustrating," he breathed unconvincingly into Sam's ear as the key slipped from his fingers.

With the door unlocked, Sam took long strides to Jack's bedroom, collapsing onto his bed with him still in his arms. He stripped him of his shirt and moved down his chest. As tongue and teeth traveled lower, Jack's breaths scattered.

"Sam, wait." His voice was tight, some panic returning, and his partner paused. "I've... never done this before."

Crawling back up the bed, Sam gave him a long kiss. "Me neither. But that doesn't mean I don't know how."

* * *

Sam hadn't lied. He was drunk, but he knew what he was doing, and despite the initial panic, Jack wasn't as innocent as he let on. Still, experience alone wasn't experience with a partner. With all the patience and restraint his hot and hazy mind could gather, Sam let Jack set the pace and take the lead. Soon, slow and gentle turned to wild, raw desire from both. By their third round, a large palm covered Jack's mouth to be sure his sister wouldn't hear.