Jars Oneshots

3

(Uhh kinda smut)
(This is basically me rewriting the Madison and Ethan scene but better hUH)
( Satan_Incarnate_666 oop- )

The agent had stopped in the motel room to check on the injured man, concerned for his well being. He didn't expect to be a shoulder to cry on briefly. But he didn't complain about it, letting the ex-architect cry on his shoulder. Whilst he wasn't the best at communication, he was decent at comforting people. He kept an arm wrapped around the other's shoulders gently, unsure of where the injuries were. They stayed like that for a while, the silent sobs of the man fading as quickly as they came. His head lifted, close to the agent's. He leaned in, sad blue eyes lowered to the lips his shaky breath fell on like a butterfly to a flower. Eyes closing, the agent found himself leaning in as well, though it wasn't the expected turn out.

Bitten lips against broken lips, collided like a wave to the shore. Like a flame to a firework, passion sparked. Arms wrapped around waist and neck, a silent nudge for more. Tugging arms pulled the agent into a closer embrace, body pressed against body. A small wince broke the kiss, concern dancing across the agent's face. He didn't give himself time to question, only making sure the other man caught his breath before kissing him again, nimble fingers starting to tug off a jacket, the first piece of clothing in the way. The taller man was surprised by his own eagerness, briefly thinking he should stop before it gets too far. But when he felt hands work on his tie, all thought was thrown away.

Lips only unlocked for the sake of the ex-architect's sweater to messily be taken off, for once the agent relieved that he always wore a suit outside of work hours. Desperate fingers played with buttons, the first three done before the other man pulled back, heavy gasps for air slipping out. Kisses planted on the agent's neck made him shiver, the gentle bite causing a small noise to fall from his lips. More bites and kisses followed the sound, cool air hitting the agent's chest, soon spreading to his arm and back. The dress shirt was shoved aside, the ex-architect's head lifting to rest his forehead against the agent's, both trying to gasp in air, both ready to tug the remaining articles of clothing away.

Comforting. It felt comforting, the agent realized. This wasn't a way to blow off frustration or to gain something. No, it was comfort, for the both of them. Stress about the situation at hand demanded physical comfort in response, even if sex was the unexpected result of physical comfort. Bandaging around the ex-architect's chest was a reminder of the physical pain the man was in as well as the mental. The agent was gentle, careful not to brush against that side of his chest. He was a gentle lover overall but even more so with this man. Nothing could become of this beyond just an awkward friendship, or everything could emerge from this. But if he could go back, the agent knew he'd gladly go to the motel room again and give the gentle physical comfort they both craved so deeply.

He didn't worry about explaining where he was or the marks on his neck. He didn't worry about whatever hell would emerge tomorrow. He didn't even think of what could happen if someone saw him leave the motel room. All he focused on was the other man with him, the physical touches he was drowning in pleasure with. If it was possible to be addicted to a human, he would be addicted to the ex-architect's touch and kiss. Thankfully, it was just am emotion that gave off a feeling of being addicted to another. Despite the want for the time to never end, it did. Heavy breathing soon subdued into normal breathing rates, gentle arms around the agent now. Nothing was said for a while, eventually leading to both falling asleep.

The next morning, whilst the agent tried to get dressed without waking the other, a quiet whisper broke the concentration on the shirt buttons. A whisper that made his heart skip, stomach turn to butterflies, and thoughts race. A question that he could only nod to, his mouth dry at the thought of answering with words.
"Would you come if I called...?"
The question had endless possibilities of what could be implied; another night like last night or help with whatever the ex-architect was doing. But the agent knew that whatever it would be, he would arrive at the motel as fast as he could and do whatever he needed to help the other man. Even if it put his job at risk, the career he worked for so fiercefully. Norman Jayden knew he'd gladly risk it all for Ethan Mars if the ex-architect asked him to.