twenty-one: dying sun

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"Feeling better?" Jax asks

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"Feeling better?" Jax asks.

Lee stares at his bare thighs, half-covered by the t-shirt---two sizes too big---Jack's lent him. It smells like sea salt and hot chocolate, the scent of fresh laundry detergent lining every sleeve---almost threadbare and yet so well-kept, like all Jack's clothes are, like the way Jack holds Lee's heart. Jack's gone looking for a pair of pants that'll be able to stay up around Lee's waist without exposing his dick to the world, and in the seconds that he's been gone, his sister's already moved in.

There's something different about Jax's usually playful stare, though. Her eyes are softer, more careful. They look at Lee like he's made of glass, and he realises that she's afraid---afraid to say something wrong and hurt him. Scared to drive the dagger deeper into his broken heart.

So he swallows his feelings, pulls the knife out even though it leaves behind a gaping wound that gushes blood like a fountain, slicing through arteries and veins alike until his chest is numb, black and red and blue. He grins broadly, casually waving Jax's concern away. "Yeah! I'm feeling much better now!"

Jax smirks, the tension quickly leaking out of her broad shoulders. "I suppose you'd definitely feel better after fucking my brother."

"What?" Lee shrieks, voice notching up several octaves.

"Oh, I just so happened to see you two coming out of the bathroom together, so I figured---"

"Shut up," Lee squeaks. His body tingles, the memory of Jack's hand around him still engraved into every inch of his being like a thousand burning suns, hot and bright and beautiful. And it stings like a fire he keeps walking into, scorching away all the rest of the world until all he can feel is Jack---his hands, his lips, his skin...nothing but Jack. "We didn't do anything."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing at all." The words are tight, stuck somewhere in his throat. Lee's normally a good liar, but his cheeks flush every time he remembers how he'd been brought to the edge of glory far too soon, too caught up in the moment to focus on anything but Jack's fingers pulsing around him.

"Sure. Then how do you explain the---"

"Oi, Jax. Get the fuck out of my room," Jack orders, flinging the door open and throwing himself on the bed next to Lee, nearly shoving his sister off the mattress in the process. Lee doesn't miss how Jack doesn't bother straightening out the creases on the formerly perfectly-pressed bed this time, and he wonders, cheeks flushing, if it's because he's rubbing off on him.

Jax rolls her eyes. "Always so rude, Jackie. You sure we were raised by the same people?"

"Obviously not. I was raised by actual parents. You were raised by wolves."

"Wolves, huh? And yet I'm not the one who's being primal right now." Jax gestures to the way Jack's hand has unconsciously settled over the scar decorating Lee's knuckles, a gesture that makes Lee flinch like he's been burned. "Look at you. You can't even keep your hands off your boyfriend for a second."

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