( Completed ) Pet play | Axton X handsome Jack

Chapter 26: The Return of The King

The Return of The King

Axton stirred slightly, his body rousing habitually. He screwed his eyes shut and groaned out lowly, stretching out his back, elongating his spine and working the muscles in his shoulder blades. His newly awoken leg brushed against another warm appendage and it caused him to crack open one eye in confusion. He squinted in the dull light, his pine colored eye sweeping over the bedding. He sighed out as he found himself amassed in a sloppy tangle of feet, arms, legs and hands. Brown locks tickled against the underside of his chin and settled warmly over his neck. He cracked a small, half asleep smile and wormed tighter against the other body occupying the oversized bed. There was a grumble from the other party and Axton could feel Jack press the side of his face against his chest, curling in tighter on himself, securing his knee between Axton's thighs. There was a barely decipherable 'stop squirming' growled from the other body and Axton chuckled against the warm mass pressed to him. The ruffled blankets spread halfway across Axton's legs and only gathered barely around Jack's ankles leaving the slighter man's stark white ass on full display for the commando. Axton grinned wryly against the part of Jack's hair and moved his thick arms to encircle the other man. His palm's slid around playfully grabbing a handful of the pert buttocks provided, gathering a louder, more pointed 'would you fucking stop it' from the obviously ill tempered partner.

"What happened Handsome? Didn't you used to be a morning person?" Axton cooed softly against Jack's ear his voice gruff with sleep.

Jack grumbled something into Axton's collarbone, his voice muffled by his still half asleep state and Axton was pretty sure it was something along the lines of "fuck off".

Axton chuckled into Jack's wild, sleep stirred hair, tugged the irritable man against him tighter, and nestled deeper into the plush pillow that was shared by two heads. Close was not enough of a word to describe their state in the tangle of sheets and body heat. Axton could feel Jack's heart beating slowly against his torso, a gentle, thumping rhythm that he felt himself sink into. Jack was warm against him, almost too warm, but Axton didn't mind. He was something tangible. He was here. All of him, all his dips and curves. Every muscle, every fiber, every scar. He was real this time. Blood and flesh and bone. Everything about him was real. The irritable morning snark was real and the heavy rise and fall of his chest was real. Jack's body slipped back into uninterrupted slumber, small half snoring noises coming from his slightly parted lips. Axton's fingers played in the nape of Jack's neck, letting the thick brown locks slide over his digits. Too many mornings Axton had dreamt this. Half in sleep half out, barely able to grasp reality or the world around him, imagining the man to be there, sleeping soundly against him. Too many mornings Axton had come to, only to realize that the sleeping other man was again a figment of his imagination. Just a loose little memory that wouldn't shake. It was just his desperate brain trying to bring Jack back to life once more. A lost, broken brain that refused to simply let Jack be gone. Axton felt his stomach sink at the memory. The memory coming back too real and too vivid. Jack had been dead to him. He'd died and Axton had gone through it all alone. All the depression, all the mourning, all the emptiness. So many mornings Axton had woken in this very bed, in this very room, and wished that he hadn't. He'd wished so many times to just stop breathing, to just stop and not have to deal with it anymore. Not have to deal with the day after day lull. The routine. The going through the motions and not even knowing why. The trek of running a company, or trying to. The hardships of being forced to fill Jack's shoes, and Jack was not an easy man to follow up. Axton remembered so many mornings laying here on his back, blinking up at the ceiling, wondering what it all meant, where it was all going. So many mornings that all ran together in the end, so many mornings all alone. All alone in a big empty living quarters, in a big empty bedroom, in a big empty bed. All alone in sheets of gold and pillows of down. All alone and empty inside.