abbys_jam_juggler
—
Jimmy Kent is smart.
Jimmy Kent knows what he's about.
And if there's one thing Jimmy Kent is absolutely one hundred percent certain of it's that he's not in love with Thomas Barrow, for the simple reason that Jimmy Kent doesn't fall in love. Not ever.
And most importantly: Jimmy's not homosexual. They're fucking, yes, however just because he likes having his best friend's cock up his arse doesn't mean Jimmy's like that. Like Thomas.
As far as Jimmy is concerned, the essence of being gay is loving men, but Jimmy's never loved any man before - or anyone at all, for that matter. Thomas loves Jimmy whereas Jimmy doesn't love Thomas - it's always been that way and Jimmy has no intention of complicating his life any further.
Jimmy doesn't like complicated.
Therefore, genuine relationships with women are something Jimmy realizes he's probably past. He can no longer see the appeal of it, really; it all just seems too much of a struggle to him. Bringing flowers to tiresome dates where he's expected to endure endless empty chatter and silly giggling for hours just to be rewarded with mediocre sex, barely any more exciting than a night with his own hand.
Why make such a superfluous fuss when everything between Thomas and him feels so pleasantly effortless, as though Jimmy is finally able to take a break from himself and the world around him?
When Thomas's gentle hands and experienced mouth know exactly what Jimmy needs, even better than he does himself?
No girl would ever put her tongue up there, for God's sake!
Unlike with women, Jimmy doesn't have to take Thomas out to fancy places or bloody court him. A shared sixpack of his friend's favorite beer from the corner shop down the street before Jimmy crawls onto his lap and snogs him like there's no tomorrow - that's usually all it takes to have Thomas, quite literally, at his feet, wanting and groaning for him.
And Jimmy likes that.
Jimmy's learned that he likes a lot of things he never thought he would...
The first time he let Thomas slip into his body, Jimmy thought he was going to die from the painful yet equally magnificent pleasure.
It felt as if somebody had suddenly, at last, drawn back the dusty curtains and opened the window, leaving a breathless Jimmy shaking and confused in the blinding light he could not adjust himself to in time.
The orgasm Thomas gave him that night was shockingly explosive . It wasn't only spectacular in a physical sense but utterly mind-blowing and, as much as part of him hated the undeniable power Thomas held (and still holds) over him, Jimmy found himself helplessly addicted to sex with Thomas. After their first encounter, Jimmy realised there was just no going back ...
Thomas is, without a doubt, the most skilled, ardent lover Jimmy's ever had and while Jimmy's always secretly enjoyed the sight (only the sight, mind you!) of a nice cock - because why not - he thinks Thomas's the epitome of beauty. Large and pink, filling him to the bursting point, until Jimmy can't speak, can't even think anymore – it's as liberating a feeling as any he's ever experienced .
Each time they're together, Thomas's slow, deep thrusts combined with a stream of honey-sweet words panted against his ear have Jimmy flying off to another world entirely and if it weren't for Thomas's solid, steadying hand on his hip and long tender fingers curled into his hair and cradling his head, Jimmy would never come back again.
Too overwhelming is this glorious feeling of owning someone and being owned in return whenever Jimmy's riding Thomas on his tiny old couch, only in socks and one of Thomas's worn shirts. (Funny, Jimmy never knew he actually had that kink.)
And yes, Jimmy does sigh his friend's name in the throes of passion, runs his tongue along the shell of Thomas's ear and fucking begs for more. Sometimes he wonders if there's a word for it, that blissful melting of their bodies and .... well, something Jimmy can't quite put his finger on. In any case, he's never felt that way with any other human being in his entire life.
But Jimmy's not stupid; he understands that sex, even the brilliant, completely out of this world sex he has with Thomas, isn't love. And Jimmy staying the night doesn't make them boyfriends.
It's not the way Thomas takes his hand and slowly leads Jimmy into his bedroom after they've done it while showering his still damp face with delicate little kisses ... or how Jimmy finds himself nestled into two strong hairy arms all night, enveloped in Thomas's warmth as soft murmurs are lulling him to sleep.
No.
Jimmy supposes it's solely the February cold that keeps him from leaving Thomas's shabby flat and going back to his own place; the shivering snow outside just doesn't seem half as inviting as Thomas's cosy bed that's filled with both of their distinctive smells.
Jimmy hates the cold, it's as simple as that, and he'll stop sleeping in Thomas's bed once spring comes around and the trees are blooming again.
"Might as well get your name tattooed on my arse," Jimmy jokes every so often when they lie together afterwards, tangled in a sweat-slicked happy pile. "It's only yours anyway."
Whereas Jimmy laughs heartily at the rather amusing thought, Thomas doesn't respond, the blue of his eyes darkening as he looks back at Jimmy with such open affection, Jimmy has to kiss him hard on the mouth.
Nonetheless, Jimmy greatly appreciates how Thomas never burdens him with the three words that – in his mind - would probably ruin their little arrangement. Though if Jimmy is honest with himself, Thomas doesn't need to tell him that he's completely and beyond hope enamoured with him. Jimmy knows all the same, because it's there, right in front of him, in every little brush of Thomas's fingers against his skin, in every hushed, besotted whisper and filthy praise murmured into his ear.
Oh, Thomas seemingly doesn't even know how awfully obvious he is.
Little lovefool, Jimmy thinks to himself, an unexpected bittersweet feeling causing something in his stomach to twist .
But Jimmy Kent is nobody's fool, and he will not fall in love, even – and especially - with Thomas Barrow.
And if Jimmy carries a single crumpled photo of Thomas with him, hidden in the back of his wallet ... so what of it? It doesn't mean anything, and Jimmy's sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for that, too.
He just hasn't figured it out yet ...
