Fic: Jump In The Fire (Metallica, Kirk/Lars, James/Cliff, 10,000 words, FRAO)

[rsadelle]

Title: Jump In The Fire
Authors: Ruth Sadelle Alderson and Larissa
Pairing: Kirk/Lars, James/Cliff
Rating: FRAO for swearing, sex and lots of booze.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to us and they didn't do any of this, either. We're in therapy now and surprisingly, the lithium's helping us cope with the pain.
Summary: Cliff and James get together while Kirk and Lars are already together.
Authors' Notes: We have a thing for Cliff.


Nette: *g* Or he could've turned pixie overnight.
rsadelle: *snicker* it was all that exposure to lars.
Nette: *L* He's turning into Lars! Save him, save him now!
rsadelle: *giggle* or else he's turning *to* lars, which makes a much better story, with just as much sex.
minerva: Ack! Lars, stop assimilating people!
Nette: *snicker* Lars would probably absorb Kirk, kinda like the Blob.
rsadelle: lol--is that how he gets everyone to sleep with him?
Nette: *L* Yeah, just turns and *zomp* they're gone.
rsadelle: lol
Nette: Of course, it would also make him a freak of nature.
rsadelle: well, duh. of course he's a freak of nature.
Nette: He's Lars. He's freaky in all ways that count.
rsadelle: *snerk* especially sexually.
Nette: Which is a good thing. *g* Really good thing.
rsadelle: really, really good thing for kirk.
Nette: Pfft! Like Kirk didn't teach him some of the freakier aspects of sex.
rsadelle: ooh. lars the innocent who just looks sexual and kirk the one who teaches him things.
Nette: *happy wiggle* Kirk showing Lars things he's only ever read about or heard in giggled whispers.
rsadelle: James knowing something's going on, but way too embarrassed to ask about it.
Nette: Hah, so he just watches them watch each other; Lars gazes at Kirk adoringly and Kirk's got a half scholarly, half lust look on his face whenever he looks at Lars.
rsadelle: Every once in a while, he comes into a room, and Lars is blushing while Kirk just smiles and greets him.

It's such a sight to see since Lars always presents himself as a jaded, been-there-done-that kinda guy. He can't help smile at the sight of Lars blushing, but he wonders what Kirk's doing to him. It has to be Kirk, too; no one else makes Lars react like that.

He thinks and thinks and thinks. He even asks Cliff one day if he's noticed anything, but, if he has, he won't tell James about it, and he just turns the conversation back to music. It's a mystery James wants to unravel.

So he plucks up the courage and decides to ask Lars. One day, when Cliff and Kirk are in the kitchen, and he's alone with Lars on the couch, he slides over and hooks an arm around the Dane's shoulder. "So, Lars, buddy," he says jovially enough. "What's up?"

Lars starts at the unexpected touch. "Up? Nothing's up? What makes you think anything's up? I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look kinda jumpy to me." He's right up against Lars now, up in his personal space. He knows he's slightly intimidating like this, and he intends to press the advantage. "You sure nothing's wrong?"

Lars stands up and paces the living room nervously. "Of course nothing's wrong. What would be wrong? It's not like my life is taking a turn for the surreal. I'm fine, really."

James watches him pace, seeing the tension knot his body. "So you and Kirk aren't..." He lets the sentence hang there, his meaning clear.

Lars whips around and glares at James. "Kirk and I aren't anything," he says vehemently.

"Bullshit," James argues. "Every time I come into the room, you're practically hanging onto each other. If you're not lovers, then what the hell are you two?"

Lars' eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape. When he realizes there's no way out, his shoulders slump. "I don't know what the hell we are."

"So why do you stay? Do you like it?" James' voice is hushed and curious.

Lars laughs. "Oh, yes, I like it." He looks at James. "I don't know what the hell it all is, but I sure as hell like it."

Kirk and Cliff come back into the room, cutting off any further questions James might've asked. Kirk looks askance at Lars. "What're you doing all the way over there?"

Lars shrugs. "Nothing."

Kirk shakes his head and beckons him closer. "Well, get over here." He bounces as he flops down onto the loveseat, Lars tucked in next to him as Cliff takes a seat on the single couch. James bites his tongue as Kirk discreetly palms Lars' face, stroking him like a lover. He's not even concentrating on the TV anymore; he's just watching Kirk and Lars.

Lars sees James watching them and murmurs to Kirk. Kirk just smiles at James and strokes Lars a little more openly.

James grips his beer bottle tightly as Lars turns his head to kiss Kirk's palms. 'Fuck, the bastard's doing it on purpose,' he thinks angrily, watching Kirk seduce Lars with touch. "Stop that," he growls in a low voice.

Cliff glances over at them, then back at James. "Chill, man."

"Yeah," Kirk echoes. "Chill."

"Fuck that," he snaps. He turns to Kirk. "You two are practically fucking on the couch. Stop it."

"Why, James? Does it bother you?" Kirk's voice is cool, controlled.

"Yes," he says flatly. "You wanna fuck, do it in a bedroom behind closed doors."

Kirk turns and kisses Lars. "You sure you don't want to watch? I'm sure Lars won't mind. Will you, baby?" He strokes Lars' thigh.

Lars mewls slightly and shakes his head. "I don't mind," he rasps, so obviously Kirk's willing slave.

James slams his beer bottle onto the coffee table. "I mind," he growls.

"So leave," Cliff shrugs, amused by James' reaction and how it's spurring Kirk on.

James stares at Cliff in disbelief. "You're okay with this?" He waves at Kirk and Lars. "You want to watch them fuck?"

Cliff takes a sip of beer, glancing at the couple in question. "Sure, why not?" He laughs as James' jaw drops. "At least it's better than what's on TV. And they're prettier."

"But they're--"

"What?" Cliff interrupts. "Guys? So the fuck what? They're hot, and they're willing to let us watch them fuck. Sit back and relax." He pushes James back against the couch. "You might learn something."

James grabs Cliff's hand to push it away when a low moan catches their attention. They turn to find Kirk and Lars kissing each other hotly, Kirk gripping Lars' ass firmly and pulling him close. "Shit," James breathes.

"All right," Cliff grins. He sits down next to James, slapping his thigh happily. "Settle in for the show, man."

James sits back against the couch, still a little uncomfortable, but intrigued, even a little turned on. He can feel the warmth of Cliff's hand on his thigh.

Kirk nips along Lars' jawline, rubbing his face against the baby-soft skin of Lars' neck. He reaches down and palms Lars' cock, pressing down just to watch Lars gasp and arch into his hand. "You're so sensitive," he teases. Lars whimpers and fumbles at his zipper, dragging it down and placing Kirk's hand firmly on his cock. "Oh, yeah, you want it," Kirk murmurs. He grips Lars' cock. He pushes the neck of Lars' shirt aside and bites down on his shoulder where the marks won't be seen.

James sucks in a harsh breath. "Fuck," he says quietly.

Cliff smiles and leans back in his seat, his head resting lightly on James' shoulder. "Sluts," he says fondly.

James can't take his eyes off them. He watches as Kirk pulls up Lars' shirt and sucks on one nipple then the other, switching between the two until they're rosy and peaked.

Lars clutches convulsively at the couch cushions. "Kirk--" he gasps.

"What?" Kirk's lips brush against Lars' nipple.

"They're watching us," Lars hisses.

Kirk glances up at James and Cliff. "Yeah, they are," he says. He bites down on Lars' nipple.

He moans and pushes up into Kirk's hand, pulling Kirk's hair to one side so he can bend down and bite his neck. Give him back a little of what he's feeling.

Kirk growls and squeezes Lars tightly. "Showing off for the audience?" Lars shivers. Kirk chuckles. "You get off on it, don't you? Having them watch you. It makes it all better." He glances up and locks his eyes with James'. "Doesn't it?"

James swallows heavily. "Y-yeah," he stutters, his hands in fists by his side. "Better." The words are lodged in his throat, making him dizzy. Kirk smiles seductively and goes back to teasing Lars, making the Dane cry out, stroking and licking him until the sounds are overwhelming.

"Sounds good, doesn't it?" Cliff whispers in James' ear.

James starts. He'd forgotten about Cliff. He turns his head to find Cliff close, almost too close. "Y-Y-Yeah," he stammers.

Cliff smiles at him, something between delight and predatory. "Makes you wish someone would do that to you, doesn't it?"

He starts to shake his head, then nods, confused and aroused by everything. "I don't--" His eyes glance over in time to catch Kirk slide off the couch and suck Lars into his mouth. He stops breathing for a moment, his face hot and flushed with shame and pleasure.

"Sure you do," Cliff murmurs. His hand slides up James' thigh. "You know you do." James shakes with indecision.

Lars screams as he comes, his hands buried tightly in Kirk's hair, thrusting up desperately as Kirk licks him clean. Cliff's hand dips into the crease of James' thigh, pressing in. James jerks and grabs his hand, his eyes moving nervously from Kirk and Lars back to Cliff. "Shit, Cliff, I can't," he says plaintively.

"Sure you can." Cliff strokes James' hand softly, making his skin tingle. "You want it." He puts his other hand on the bulge in James' jeans. "Where's the problem?"

James leans back against the couch, his eyes fluttering closed as Cliff strokes him gently. He moans Cliff's name, tentatively touching his shoulder. Cliff skims a finger on the skin of James' hand. "It's okay to touch," he says softly. James grips Cliff's shoulders convulsively, pulling the other man into him, feeling the solid weight of his body pressing him into the couch. "There you go," Cliff murmurs. He unzips James' jeans and draws out his cock.

James jumps as Cliff's hand closes around him, his hair falling forward and brushing against James' face. Cliff pulls him forward and kisses him, his fingers playing with the slit in James' cock, rubbing the head lightly. James groans, hearing it echo in the room. He glances away, startled as he sees Kirk and Lars watching him avidly. "Fuck. Cliff, stop." He tries to push him away.

"No," Cliff growls. He pushes against James, using his greater weight to keep him in place. "You want it," he hisses. He kisses James harshly. James tries to shrink out of the kiss, but only succeeds in making Cliff lean on him more.

James is panicking. He pushes at Cliff, trying to get him to move, but the other man is stronger and more determined. He finally stops, lying still and staring up at Cliff in fear. "Cliff," he chokes out. 'Don't hurt me,' he thinks silently. Not Cliff. His friend, his buddy, his fucking mentor.

Cliff strokes his cheek gently, softly, tenderly. "It's okay," he reassures James. "Just relax. Let me do this. Let me make you feel good." He presses his lips to James' lightly. "It'll be good. I promise."

James nods, eyes wide as Cliff kisses him again, catching his lips in a deep, intense kiss. He places his hands on Cliff's shoulder again, awkwardly gripping him as he tries to figure out what to do, how to feel. Cliff holds his cock in his hand again, squeezing him, his fingers reaching down to stroke James' balls. James gasps and thrusts up, his fingers grabbing at Cliff's shoulders. "Oh God, fuck, it's good," he whispers breathlessly.

"I told you it would be," Cliff tells him. He brushes the hair back from James' face. "I told you I could make it feel good." He strokes James' cock for a long, silent moment. "Do you want me to go down on you?" he asks softly. "Do you want me to do to you what Kirk did to Lars?"

The sound decreases to a dull roar as James takes in what Cliff's saying. Cliff wants-- His mind's eye involuntarily pictures Kirk, his black head bobbing up and down as he sucks Lars, and Lars, gripping the couch and screaming Kirk's name as he comes. "Yes," he blurts out, surprised by his reaction. He wants this, wants Cliff's mouth on him, wants to have what Kirk and Lars have.

Cliff kisses the edge of his mouth. "Good," he murmurs. He slides off the couch, off of James, onto the floor. James feels cold without Cliff on top of him, without Cliff's heat seeping into him. Cliff takes his cock into his mouth and sucks him.

The heat's back as Cliff tongues him, his mouth surrounding him, making him roar. He thrusts up once, but stops suddenly, afraid of pushing too hard, too fast. Cliff scrapes his fingernails along James' thighs, the denim making a scratching sound. "Give it up, James," he smiles up the other man. "I'm good. Just let go."

Cliff goes down on him again. James thrusts up into the wet heat of his mouth, moving on instinct. "Fuck," he gasps. He pushes his hands into Cliff's hair, feeling the soft curls twine around his fingers.

Cliff sucks him hard, forcing James to fuck his mouth desperately, his fingers tightening in his hair. He pushes James' legs apart, wedging himself firmly against James, never stopping his rhythmic sucking. He hollows his cheeks and takes James in deep, until he's almost touching the back of his throat.

Fuck, this is good. He never really believed he'd get James to accept this, but James' cock down his throat has proved him wrong. He swallows against James' cock, knowing what that will feel like, knowing how it will push James into coming.

James' eyes roll up in the back of his head before they close as Cliff's throat closes around him. Jesus, he can't hold back anymore. Cliff's pulling it out of him, making him feel so much that he's in agony. He bares his teeth and growls, thrusting up one last time before he comes shakily. Jesus, he's dying, he's broken, he'll never recover from this. He sobs Cliff's name as he slumps back against the couch, empty, and as weak as a rag doll.

Cliff takes one last, long lick and then flows back up James' body onto the couch. He puts his arms around James and holds him close. "Okay?" he murmurs. He kisses James' cheek gently, strokes his hair.

James starts to say he's fine, but, to his horror, he bursts into tears. He tries to stop, but they keep coming, rolling down steadily, burning a trail down his cheeks. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He's scared because he can't stop, can't push the emotions back in. Cliff split him open and now he's shattered and he can't fucking stop crying. He grits his teeth and makes a conscious effort to stop, choking his sobs back with great effort.

Cliff rocks him gently. "It's okay," he whispers. "James, it's okay." He strokes James' hair, kisses his cheek, murmurs soft, meaningless words in his ear. He'd known this would happen--James has too many hang ups not to freak out after getting a blowjob from a man--but he's surprised by the form it takes. He expected James to lash out, not to cry. Crying, he thinks, is better for all of them.

James breaks down again as Cliff soothes him, comforts him with soft words and even softer touches. He clutches desperately at Cliff, scrabbling for a better grasp. He still can't believe that it's happened to him, that he's done this with Cliff. His throbbing cock and Cliff's arms around him remind him that he has and that he can't go back now. So he cries his pain out. His throat is raw and torn by the time he finishes.

"Better?" Cliff asks softly, still stroking him gently. James shrugs mutely. Cliff kisses his mouth. "It's okay," he murmurs.

James hides his face in Cliff's shoulder, snaking a tendril of dark hair around his finger, clutching it like a talisman. He avoids Kirk's and Lars' avid stares, trusting Cliff to deal with them. Lars opens his mouth to say something, but Kirk quickly hushes him with a shake of his head. "Not now," he whispers.

"But he's--"

"*Not* *now*," Kirk hisses. He glances at James and Cliff, worried. "Let him be," he murmurs to Lars.

Cliff shifts his eyes over to the door, silently asking them for some time alone. Kirk nods and pulls Lars up, whispering promises to talk once they get to the other room. Cliff slides his hand under James' hair and rubs the back of his neck. "They're gone now," he murmurs. "You can talk if you want to."

James shakes his head against Cliff's shoulder. He looks up. Cliff is surprised, amazed, intrigued by how vulnerable James looks. "Why'd you do it?" James asks shakily. "Why'd you do that to me?"

Cliff runs his hand down James' face, cupping his chin, stroking the bottom lip idly. "I wanted you," he says simply. "I love you." He's never made any secret of that fact, so he doesn't expect it to be a surprise.

James nearly shakes apart in his arms. "How can you love me?" he asks. "I'm so fucked up. I'm not even pretty like Kirk and Lars."

He holds James tight as he shakes, a solid force against the trembling man. "You're not as fucked up as you think you are," he says softly. "No one is. Everyone's got pain." He shrugs. "I just love you, never mind being pretty. Kirk and Lars have their own beauty and I love them for it, but it's not important. It's not why I love you."

"Why then?" James asks desperately. "Why do you love me?"

Cliff shakes his head. "I can't put it into words, James. I just do. I--" He's at a loss for words for once. He blows out a breath and suddenly he finds the words. "You make me happy, you know? When we're talking or playing or just sitting and watching TV, I'm happy." He sighs. "That's the closest I can come to putting it into words for you. You're just gonna have to accept it on faith."

"I don't have a lot of success with faith," James mutters. He rubs his face against Cliff's shoulder. "I--" He takes a deep breath. "I love you," he says, almost too softly to be heard.

Cliff kisses his temple. "I know," he says, matching James' volume. "I've always known." He hugs him tight, feeling the lanky body press into his.

James presses into Cliff, into his touch, into his hold, into his love. "I didn't," he whispers.

"You just needed some time to see it, to accept it. You wouldn't have done this a year ago."

"I didn't think I'd do it today," James confesses quietly.

Cliff smiles. "You've always gotta be pushed into things."

"You always push me into them."

"You need to be pushed or you'll never go anywhere," he argues. "You gotta expand your boundaries, man. Live a little. Don't be so scared all the time."

"I'm not scared all the time," James protests. "I do shit."

Cliff rests his forehead against James', automatically adjusting his breathing to James' rhythm. "You're scared of letting people in, James. I can see it in your eyes. Hell, I can see it in the way you treat other people; you push them away whenever they get too close." He kisses his lips. "Don't do that to me. Let me in. I'll love you, I swear."

"You won't leave me?" James asks.

The childlike hurt in his voice cuts into Cliff's soul. "I won't leave you," he promises.

James breathes out shakily. This is the edge of the cliff, the precipice from which he's got to make a decision: does he jump or does he fall? He looks up at Cliff, into those kind eyes that watch him tenderly. He decides to jump. "I believe you," he says clearly, his eyes never leaving Cliff's.

Cliff kisses him, his hands threading into James' bright blond hair. "Good," he says softly, "because I mean it." He hugs James to him tightly. "I'm not giving you up."

Lars peeks into the room. "Is it okay to come out now? I'm getting sick of looking at the walls in there."

Kirk pops up over Lars' head. "Yeah, it's getting kinda boring in there. We've already drunk all the beer."

"Bastards," Cliff laughs. "We helped pay for that beer." He strokes his hand over James' hair.

Kirk grins. "And we helped you drink it." He tugs Lars into the room with him, pushing him back down on the couch and grabbing the remote control. "Anything particular you guys wanna watch or are we just gonna watch crap again?"

"Is there anything other than crap on?" Cliff asks. He sits back against the couch and hugs James to his side.

James rests his head on Cliff's shoulder, relaxing into his hold. "Nah, it's all crap. Let's turn it off."

Lars perks up. "Hey, let's go jam."

Kirk groans and swats Lars. "You just wanna bang on your drums again."

Lars chuckles. "Well, you already banged on mine. Why should you have all the fun?"

Kirk rolls his eyes. "I swear you're only twelve." He forestalls Lars' retort. "Besides, all we do is jam. I want to relax."

Lars shifts restlessly in his seat. "We've been relaxing all day," he argues, pointing at the TV. Cliff and James just smile as they watch the bantering.

"We did not relax, Lars," Kirk states firmly. "You forget, I sucked you off halfway through the show."

"That was relaxing!" Lars insists.

Kirk shakes his head. "Relaxing for you, maybe. It was just more work for me."

Lars grumbles and settles back in his seat, watching as Kirk flips through the channels aimlessly, looking for something to watch. Kirk reaches over for his beer on the coffee table, forgetting that it's all gone. He looks at his empty hand in surprise. "Fuck, there's no beer left."

Lars rolls his eyes. "We finished it all, remember?"

Cliff shrugs. "We're gonna have to make another beer run, I guess. You up for it, James?" He nudges the man in his arms.

James blinks up at him. "Yeah, I guess." He's a little nervous about going out. He wonders if people will know, just by looking at him, that his male best friend, mentor, teacher sucked him off in their living room while the other half of their band, the other two people he loves more than anything, watched.

Cliff touches his shoulder gently. "It's okay," he murmurs. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's not that different from all the other times we've gone for beer, though." He knows James is worried, and he even suspects he knows why, but he won't push for more than James is willing to give. He's gone further than Cliff ever thought possible, and it's enough for today.

James shakes his head. He has to go out sometime. He can't just live in their small, messy house. "I'll go," he says. He manages a smile for Cliff.

Cliff smiles back, his eyes shining with pride. He gets up and gets his coat, watching Kirk and Lars do the same. James reluctantly gets up and gets his jacket, crushing the denim between his fingers. Lars smiles tentatively at him. "It helps if you put the coat on, you know."

James cuffs him playfully. "I know that, dick." He shrugs on the jacket. "I'm not stupid." The return of their usual banter is relaxing.

Lars grins. "I'm not sure about that." He ducks the hand that comes his way again. Cliff shakes his head fondly at their behavior and grabs Lars by his jacket collar, pulling him out the door. Kirk lets James out next, following him out the door, locking it behind him. Kirk pulls Lars away from Cliff, one hand draped around his neck, and they walk to the car. James falls in step next to Cliff.

Cliff nudges him with an elbow. "You sure you're okay?" he asks, still worried that this might be pushing things too fast.

James nods. "Yeah, I think I am." He laughs in surprise. "I'm okay."

Cliff grins at him. "Good." He slings an arm around James' shoulders. "Don't want you freaking out on me."

"I won't," he promises, getting into the car. This feels normal, like every other day in his life. Even Kirk and Lars bickering over who gets to sit in the front seat is just part of the everyday fabric of his routine. Maybe this won't be as hard as he thought it would be. And he's got Cliff and Kirk and Lars to help him when anything goes wrong.

Cliff finally decides things, decreeing, "Lars can sit in the front on the way there, and Kirk on the way back. Get in the car."

James laughs as they do as they're told. "You always do that," he says. "You'd think you'd learn."

Cliff laughs. "They never learn. It's against their code." Lars just grins cheekily at him and ushers everyone into the car. Kirk and James are squashed in the backseat, Kirk wriggling around trying to get comfortable and constantly bumping into James.

James swears as Kirk's elbow smacks into his ribs again. "Ow. Damn it, Cliff, we need a bigger car or I'm gonna end up bruised and battered from Hammett's Elbows of Doom here."

"'Elbows of Doom?'" Kirk shrieks, pretending outrage. "I do not have 'Elbows of Doom.'"

James laughs at him. "Yes, you do, Hammett. They're pointy. They hurt."

Kirk laughs and points to Cliff. "He's got pointier elbows than me, man. Have you ever slept with him at night? He gets all your sensitive spots with those things."

Cliff gets in the driver's seat, starting the car and quickly backing out of the driveway. "That's just to keep you from snoring, Kirk. I need my beauty rest and I can't get it if you're snoring 'Hail to the Chief' in your sleep."

Kirk crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. "Why are you picking on me? Make fun of Lars. His elbows hurt, too, and he's skinnier than me."

Cliff stops as the light turns red and reaches out, pinching Lars' cheek. "But he's so cute," he says teasingly.

Lars protests, pushing his hand away. "Stop already. I am not cute and I'm not that skinny." He directs the last bit towards Kirk who smirks and nudges James.

"Right, which is why everyone keeps thinking he's a girl. He's been groped by so many people, his ass is permanently bruised." James laughs, but he's a little shocked by how free they are about this with each other.

He turns his head and leans it on the window, staring out at the passing concrete. Kirk puts a hand on his knee. "You okay, man?" he asks softly.

James nods. "Yeah, sure."

Kirk leans against him. "You sure?" he asks. "You got kinda quiet there for a bit." Cliff glances at James in his rearview mirror, trying to simultaneously keep his eyes on the road and on his lover.

Lars touches his arm. "Keep your eyes on the road. I don't wanna end up dying in this shitty car."

Cliff chuckles as he concentrates on driving. "Gonna get something fancier?"

Lars nods. "The biggest and the best car money can buy," he vows.

Cliff shakes his head. "Gotta take it as it comes," he says. He glances up into the reareview mirror again, checking on James.

"I'm okay," James says quietly, meeting Cliff's eyes and letting Kirk lean against him.

The quiet lasts until they get to the liquor store. Lars is the first one in the store, breezing in and picking up a six-pack, shooting a cheery grin at the suspicious store clerk. Kirk wanders around more sedately, selecting his drinks with more care. James and Cliff head straight for the hard liquor section and pick out their usual.

Cliff slings his arm around James' shoulders again as they pick up the drinks. James steps out from under the arm, trying to be nonchalant. Cliff frowns at him. "Relax, man." He puts his arm around James. "It's cool."

James frowns up at the mirrors in the corners of the store. "People can see us," he says uncomfortably.

"So fucking what?" Cliff snorts, holding James even closer to him. "We're not doing anything wrong." He turns to catch the clerk giving them a hard stare. Cliff inclines his head towards the man. "Or are you afraid of what people like him will think?"

James tries to shrug out of Cliff's grip. "I'm not like--" He glances up at Cliff's face. "I'm not like Kirk and Lars," he says.

Cliff tightens his hold, his thumb reaching out to brush along James' jaw. "Who's asking you to be like Kirk and Lars? I just want us to be together and be able to touch each other in public. What's wrong with that?" He puts down the bottle of vodka he's carrying and focuses on James. He notices the tension in his body, like a tightly wound string ready to snap. It worries him.

James twists away from Cliff. "I'm not like that," he says shakily. "Kirk and Lars do that. I don't."

Cliff lets him go for now. "You don't want me to touch you anymore?"

James hunches in on himself. "I don't-- I *want* you to touch me," he says, struggling for words. "I don't want-- I'm not--"

Cliff ghosts the back of his hand down James' cheek, barely making contact. "You're mine," he says softly. "Whatever else you're not isn't important."

James looks away, down at the floor. "But I can't--" He struggles to find what he wants to tell Cliff, what Cliff needs to know about him. "I can't do that here," he says, desperately willing Cliff to understand.

Cliff knows James isn't comfortable with being touched, period, let alone in public where everyone can see him. James has always hated how it draws people's attention to him, makes him stand out in a crowd. People always notice other people touching, always look to see if they can figure out the story. James doesn't want his story figured out and Cliff can't force him to change his mind. He nods understandingly. "Okay, we won't do that here. For now," he warns.

James relaxes and picks up Cliff's neglected vodka. "Can we get the drinks and get out of here?"

Cliff nods and leads him to the counter. "You bozos buying anything?" he calls to Kirk and Lars.

Kirk brings over some imported beer while Lars lugs two six-packs and a bottle of whiskey to the counter. The clerk quickly tallies up the items, staring at Kirk and Lars with a look of distaste. Cliff raises an eyebrow. "Don't like what you see?" he says quietly.

"Naw, man. No problems here." The clerk quickly tallies up their liquor, and Cliff silently hands over their money. "Let's go," he says, handing the brown paper bags to Kirk and Lars to carry.

He stalks out of the store and gets in the car, almost slamming the door shut, but resisting at the last moment. The rest of them get in the car quietly, James staring at Cliff in wonder. He's never seen Cliff angry before. It's not obvious, but he can see the signs: the tight jaw, the clenched fists and the absolute silence as he drives them home. They're in the kitchen putting away the beer when Lars risks asking a question. "Cliff, you all right?"

Cliff pours vodka into a glass and slams it down. "That fucker," he growls. "What the fuck makes him think he knows anything anyway?" He grips his glass tightly and forces himself to calm down. "I'm okay, Lars." He tries a smile. "Don't worry about it."

Lars looks helplessly at Kirk, silently asking him what to do. Kirk shrugs and holds out the bottle of vodka to Cliff. "Want another?"

"Yeah, I've got it." Cliff pours himself another shot and drinks it down fast, his throat burning when he's done. James hesitantly touches his shoulder. This Cliff is new to him, he's never seen this man before. It's yet another change he's not ready for.

Cliff turns to look at James, his anger burning away as he realizes how much he's frightening James. "I'm okay," he says, pulling James into his arms. "Really, I am. I just fucking hate people like that. The type that knows that their way is the only way."

James hugs him tightly, shaken by his startling glimpse of Cliff in a fury. "You're-- You're angry," he says wonderingly.

Cliff looks down at him in surprise. "Of course I'm angry. Why wouldn't I get pissed off? That bastard practically--"

James reaches up and touches his fingers to Cliff's mouth, cutting him off. "You're not supposed to be pissed off," he says shakily. "You're Cliff; you don't get mad."

Cliff strokes his cheek softly. "Even I get mad," he says. "Everyone gets mad sometimes." He hugs James. "I'm not mad at you."

Kirk and Lars quietly leave the room, snagging a few cans of beer and the whiskey. James holds Cliff tightly, wrapping his arms around his neck, his fingers getting tangled in Cliff's hair again. He smoothes the strands between his fingers until it's straight again. Cliff smiles against James' shoulder as he feels the slight tugging of his hair. "You always go around touching people's hair or is it just me?" he teases.

"Just you." James blushes. "I like your hair." He slides his hands down Cliff's back to his waist.

Cliff chuckles. "You didn't have to stop."

James pulls at a strand of hair, twirling it around his finger. He gets an odd comfort from this, although he doesn't know why. He pushes the hair back behind Cliff's ear, enjoying how straight and flat and heavy it is. He's always been fascinated by Cliff, and the hair's just a part of it. It's mostly his look, how he switches from hippie flower child to maniac rocker with an ease and comfort that James envies. He feels overwhelmed by his emotions and kisses Cliff.

Cliff kisses him back, slowly at first, but with growing force. He pushes James back against the counter. "Fuck," he says when he breaks away to breathe. He brushes James' hair back. "You kiss great."

James captures his mouth again, pulling him close, his arms wrapped tightly around Cliff's neck. Everything he feels, everything he pushed back when he was at the liquor store, comes flooding back. He needs Cliff, needs to show him how he feels, what he wants. He can't do it through words--they're too awkward on his tongue--so he does it through touch, through skin and flesh down to his soul.

Cliff strokes his hands up and down James' back. He pushes his hips into James', trapping him against the counter. "I love this," he murmurs. He grips James' ass and hauls him up against his own body.

James breaks away from the kiss, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. He pushes his hips into Cliff's, silently begging him for more. Cliff cups him through his jeans. "You want me again?" he murmurs. "Like we were before?"

"Could I--" James blushes. "Could I try what you did to me?" he asks in a rush.

Cliff squeezes him gently and nods. James reaches out and slowly pulls Cliff's zipper down, his hand trembling as he takes his cock out, wrapping his hand around it. Cliff notices him shiver nervously and touches his hand. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"I want to." James pushes Cliff back enough so that he has room to kneel. He licks Cliff's cock, tasting it, learning the feel and shape of it.

Cliff arches up, wincing as his head accidentally hits the cupboard, but it doesn't deter James. He sucks Cliff once, running his tongue around the head, trying hard not to let his teeth scrape against Cliff's cock. Cliff moans and grips James by his shoulder, squeezing hard so he doesn't lose control and choke James accidentally.

James looks up at Cliff, watching him for the first time. Cliff glances down and sees him looking up. He smiles and strokes James' cheek. "Fuck, you're a natural."

James blushes happily as Cliff's praise warms him. He goes back to licking and sucking Cliff's cock, the taste and heat of it making him dizzy, hungry, eager. He tries to push further in, but his throat won't let him and he almost chokes. He takes a deep breath and starts again, trying to work up a steady rhythm like Cliff did for him. He concentrates hard, going from memory of what Cliff had done, wanting to make this good for Cliff.

"Jesus, James," Cliff gasps. "If I didn't already fucking love you, this would be a reason to." He tries not to thrust too hard, but he can't help rocking into James' mouth, moaning as James catches on to his rhythm and adjusts to it.

God, he loves this. Loves the way Cliff's cock fits so perfectly in his mouth, like his mouth is sculpted, designed, just for Cliff, just so he can bring Cliff pleasure. He loves the grunts and moans coming out of the other man, the way he's trembling hard as he tries not to thrust in too deep. He swallows Cliff, remembering with a delighted shiver how Cliff had done that to him on the couch.

Cliff grips his shoulders hard, almost too hard, and says, "Fuck, James. I'm gonna--" James only sucks harder. He wants that, too, wants to taste Cliff, feel his semen sliding down his throat. Cliff hits his head on the cabinet again as he comes into James' mouth.

Cliff hauls him up and kisses him harshly, reaching out and yanking down his zipper, baring James to him. He shoves James back against the counter, pulling down his jeans quickly, and sucking him into his mouth. James doesn't even have time to register what's happening before he's moaning and screaming in shocked lust. "Cliff-- Fuck, slow down," he chokes out.

Cliff doesn't listen. He sucks as hard as he can, wanting to make James come as fast as he can. He works his mouth, using everything he's ever learned.

James doesn't stand a chance. He jerks violently as Cliff takes him in deep, the pressure so intense that James gives in, coming with a roar. He slumps back against the counter, sliding down to the floor as his legs give out on him. "Jesus," he breathes in awe. "Jesus, Cliff. I can't believe-- I've never felt anything--" He grabs Cliff's hand and pulls him down, holding him tight. "I love you," he whispers.

Cliff kisses him tenderly. "I know." He kisses James' cheek. "And I love you." He strokes James' hair, the skin of his neck, calming him.

James keeps shaking. "I never knew it could be--" he says in awe.

"I know," he says again, touching James gently, rhythmically, until he's lying limp in his arms. "You're just so fucking amazing at it," he whispers heatedly. "I can't get enough of you." James' faces heats up and he shakes his head a little. "Yes," Cliff insists. "I want you, I need you, I love you. You believed me before, remember?"

James nods reluctantly. "I remember." He grips at Cliff. "You're not going to leave me?" he asks again in that desperate, vulnerable way.

"I won't leave you, James. Ever," he promises. He kisses James' mouth over and over, licking around the edges, tracing the quivering lips tenderly. "You're in my blood. I can't leave you," he murmurs, looking into James' wide, haunted eyes.

James shakes his head. "Why don't you write the lyrics? You're good at this," he mutters. "I'm shitty with words."

Cliff laughs and cups James' face. "Writing lyrics is a pain in the ass; I'd rather do the melody." He places a light kiss on his lips. "Besides, I like your lyrics. Makes people think about shit they need to think about." He gets up and pulls James off the floor. "Let's go see if those little bastards left any booze for us."

James hastily zips up his pants. "They better have," he growls. "They drank all the beer earlier." Cliff laughs and tugs him into the living room.

Kirk and Lars are sitting on the couch, giggling and waving their glasses in the air drunkenly. James picks up a pillow and throws it at them, snickering as they yelp in surprise. "You drank all the beer, didn't you?" he mock-growls. Cliff stands behind him, laughing hard as they scramble to hide the empty bottles.

"Well, you shouldn't have taken so long," Lars says petulantly.

"It wasn't that long," James protests. He throws another pillow when Lars snickers at him drunkenly. "That's not what I meant, dick."

Kirk bursts into peals of laughter, making James blush. "Fucker," he mutters under his breath.

Cliff laughs and pushes him towards the couch. "Sit down," he orders with a smile. He turns to a still-giggling Kirk and Lars. "And you two quit laughing before you hurt yourselves." They gradually calm down, slightly hiccupping as they go back to normal.

Cliff sits next to James and throws an arm around his shoulders. "What're you two doing, other than drinking all the beer?"

"We're not drinking *all* the beer," Lars protests. "There's still a bottle around here somewhere." He looks around himself distractedly.

Kirk spies a bottle wedged underneath Lars' thigh. 'Little fucker's hiding it,' he thinks amusedly. He reaches in and plucks the bottle away from him, ignoring his shriek of outrage. "Kirk, that was mine!" Kirk shushes him and tosses the bottle to Cliff, watching as he catches it neatly and pops it open, letting James have the first sip.

He shakes his head as James and Cliff share the beer. He touches Lars' chest. "Knock it off. They didn't get any beer today."

Lars makes a face at him. "They got other things."

Kirk laughs. "So did you, dick. Stop complaining."

Lars nudges Kirk playfully, then lays his head down in Kirk's lap. "Play with me."

Kirk rolls his eyes. "I've played enough with you today. I'm all tired out from playing with you."

James snickers and takes another sip of beer. He's comfortable like this, Cliff's arm around him and Kirk and Lars arguing like the old married couple they are. "If you keep playing with it, Lars, it'll fall off," he chortles.

Lars snorts. "Will not. I know. I've tried," he says with a wicked grin.

James rolls his eyes and takes another sip from the beer, then hands it back to Cliff. "I'm sure you have," he says dryly.

Cliff swigs the beer, flicking his tongue inside the bottle to catch any stray beer drops. James notices the movement, his throat going dry with lust. Not again. He just had him in the kitchen, for crissakes! He tamps down his arousal and counts until his erection goes away. He holds out his hand to Cliff. "Gimme the beer," he croaks. "I'm thirsty."

Cliff chuckles lightly and kisses the skin of James' throat. "Sure," he says, amusement coloring his voice. He keeps his hand wrapped around the bottle and helps James tip it back.

Some of the beer spills over onto his shirt and he almost chokes. Cliff pulls the bottle back, carefully pouring the liquid into James' mouth. James swallows painfully, his throat hurting as he gulps it down nervously. "Thanks," he murmurs when Cliff takes the bottle away.

Cliff swipes a thumb up James' chin, wiping away the spilled beer. He sucks the liquid off his thumb. "You're welcome," he says, his eyes laughing; he knows what kind of effect he has on James now.

James is hard again. He leans back in his seat, tugging his shirt over his crotch and hiding his erection. He's distracted by Cliff's scent, a hint of sweet from the pot he usually smokes, but mostly he smells clean and fresh. He wants to bury his face in Cliff's neck and just inhale him. He resists. He turns and notices Kirk and Lars looking at them and smiling happily. "What?" he demands gruffly.

Lars gestures at his crotch. "You're so subtle."

James blushes. "Dick," he mutters.

"Exactly," Lars beams.

Kirk pulls Lars back against him. "Don't freak him out." He smiles gently at James. "It's just good to see you happy," he says.

James gives him a small smile. "Yeah, well... It's good to be happy," he says under his breath. Cliff tugs his head down onto his shoulder, lazily stroking whatever skin he can reach. James gives in and nuzzles Cliff's neck, his fingers clutching the thin T-shirt tightly.

Cliff strokes the back of his neck. "I'm glad you're happy," he murmurs to James. He glances up at Kirk and Lars. "I don't know what we're going to do with you two troublemakers, though."

Kirk runs his fingers through Lars' hair, braiding and unbraiding little strands distractedly. "You don't have to do anything. We've got it all figured out."

Lars grins and arches his head back into Kirk's lap. "Yeah, we have a plan."

Cliff chuckles. "More fucking?"

Lars nods, laughing when Kirk yanks his hair. "We do more than fuck," Kirk says sternly.

Cliff laughs. "Sure you do. You two fuck more than anyone."

Kirk shakes his head. "Not true. We do other stuff." He grins. "We drink, we play music."

"We stop drinking to fuck," Lars adds.

James' laugh is muffled by Cliff's shirt. "At least you managed to fit music in there somewhere. Good thing since we need to start working soon."

Kirk sighs. "Can't we forget about work for a little while?"

Lars shakes his head. "We gotta start sometime. James has these riffs he wants to try and Cliff's working on that melody for at least a month now. We gotta get it all down for the new record."

Kirk leans over and kisses Lars, quieting him. "Tomorrow. Let's just relax tonight." He kisses Lars again, deeper.

Lars twists against him. "But we have to do work."

Kirk licks Lars' lips. "There's time enough for that tomorrow." He glances up at Cliff and James, stroking Lars' cheek softly. "Let's just kick back for now."

Lars settles back against Kirk, not willing to interrupt their time together with work details. Kirk's touch is making him comfortably drowsy. "Think I'm fallin' asleep," he mumbles.

Kirk bends down and kisses him lightly. "I wondered when your energy would run out. You've been up all of yesterday and half of today."

Lars holds him down, pressing his lips harder into the kiss. "I wasn't tired. I am now."

Kirk chuckles. "Even you get tired, hmm?" He strokes Lars' hair back. Lars nods slowly against his hands. "Come on, Lars." Kirk pushes Lars up. "If you're tired, it's time for bed."

Lars flops back down on the couch as Kirk stands up. "Carry me?" he begs.

Kirk shakes his head vehemently. "No way, I'm not that strong."

Lars pouts prettily. "I'm tired and I don't wanna walk. Carry me."

Kirk tugs at his arm. "I'm not carrying you." Lars continues to pout.

James buries his head in Cliff's neck, shaking with laughter. "You're such a kid."

Lars rubs his eyes sleepily. "Am not."

Kirk's had enough. He pulls until Lars is yanked off the couch, grumbling about little guys who are deceptively heavy. Lars yawns widely, showing his little, pink uvula, and trudges to the bedroom. Kirk smiles after him. "I just know the minute I get in there, he'll be awake and begging for sex again." He shakes his head fondly. "I'll die young and happy, that's for sure. Night, guys." Cliff and James wave good night as he disappears into the bedroom.

Cliff holds James against him, stroking his back. "Are you ready for bed, too, or do you wanna stay up a while longer?"

James rubs his face into Cliff's neck. "Can we just stay here for a while?"

"Sure. I think we even have some booze left." James frowns as he lifts his head and looks around the room. "No, we don't. They drank it all."

Cliff grins and holds up a bottle, whispering, "They didn't take the whiskey."

James grins as Cliff unscrews the cap. "Not their thing, I guess." Cliff sips the whiskey and pulls James to him. He kisses James, sharing the whiskey with him.

James swallows the warm liquid from Cliff's mouth, licking out the inside of in search for more. Cliff sucks his tongue in, pushing James back on the couch and almost spilling the whiskey as the bottle tips. "Shit," he laughs, letting go of James' mouth. He leans off the couch to put the bottle down. "Here, lemme--" James pulls him back, not caring about the whiskey, just needing Cliff. "James, James," Cliff laughs. "Lemme put down the whiskey."

James growls and pulls Cliff back down onto him. "Don't care about the whiskey."

"It's not your couch," Cliff retorts. He reaches down and puts the whiskey on the floor. He kisses James, pressing him into the couch.

James clutches at Cliff's arms, pulling him down and pushing up into him at the same time. He whimpers as Cliff rests fully on top of him, pushing his hips into James'. Cliff winces as James digs his fingers too deep into his skin. He straddles James by the waist and grabs his wrists, holding them down on the couch. "You don't know your own strength sometimes," he says softly.

James looks up at Cliff, stricken. "I'm sorry." He bites his lip.

Cliff leans down and kisses him, soothing his lips. "You have to be a little more careful." He presses down on James' wrists. "Can you keep those there?"

James nods mutely, keeping his hands flat on the couch. Cliff pulls up James' shirt, exposing the pale skin of his stomach, and lightly touches James' chest. "Beautiful," he mutters. He didn't have time to do this, to learn the texture of James' skin, the shape of his body. It's been hurried and frantic so far and he wants to take his time now.

James squirms under Cliff's touch. "I'm not--"

Cliff shushes him. "You are." He kisses the smooth skin of James' stomach, then up his chest to his nipples. He takes one into his mouth and suckles gently.

James squeezes his eyes shut. His fingers are curled into the couch, gripping the fabric so hard he's afraid it's going to tear. Cliff switches his mouth to the other nipple, sucking gently and pinching the one he just left. James breathes out cautiously, trying to keep himself under control. But it's so difficult when Cliff's teasing him with licks and kisses. He jerks when he feels Cliff bite down gently on his nipple. "Jesus Christ," he hisses.

Cliff chuckles. "I thought you might like that." He licks James' nipple softly, making him shake. He strokes his hands down James' sides to his waistband. He runs his fingers under the edges of James' jeans, just brushing his skin.

He feels James' skin burn him at first touch and he presses into the heat, pushing his thumb into James' puckered navel. James bucks up hard, his mouth open and gasping Cliff's name. "Like that?" he asks softly. James nods jerkily, begging for more with his eyes. Cliff unbuttons his jeans and slides the zipper down slowly, baring James to him and taking a good look. James' cock is a thing of beauty.

He strokes a finger up and down James' cock lazily. "I love your cock," he says softly. He leans down and kisses James. "It's just as perfect as the rest of you." When James blushes, Cliff strokes his cheek with the back of one finger. "I'm going to keep telling you that. You'll have to get used to it."

"Don't think I'll get used to it," he murmurs, arching up as Cliff cups him gently.

Cliff bends down and places a light kiss on the head, smiling when James chokes off a cry. "Guess I'll just have to show you, then." He looks at James, sees the wide, blue eyes deepen with lust as he strokes him slowly. He could drown in those eyes if he lets himself.

He watches James watch him and strokes him a little faster. James is arching up into his touch now, actively rubbing himself against Cliff's hands. Cliff can see him struggling not to move his hands.

James' hands are trembling as he fights to keep them on the couch. He wants to touch Cliff so much, but he has to learn control himself. Cliff stops stroking him and sits back on his legs. James shivers as Cliff's heat moves, leaving the cold to sneak in and bite him. His eyes widen as Cliff picks up one hand and places it on his exposed cock. "Touch yourself," he growls softly. "Touch yourself for me. Show me what you like."

James bites his lip to keep from whimpering. He locks his eyes on Cliff's face and starts stroking himself, a rhythm so familiar he can do it without thought. There's something indescribably wonderful about doing this for Cliff, having Cliff watch his every movement, his every reaction.

Cliff sits back and watches James. Now he's the one who has to keep his hands still, has to resist reaching out to touch the blond man. James' face is flushed with heat as he touches himself. He can feel Cliff's eyes on him and it spurs him on, makes him moan louder, thrust up harder into his hand until he's whimpering. Cliff bends down, making sure his hands never touch any part of James; he wants James to come by his own hand. "Come for me," he whispers darkly into James' ear.

"Yeah," James moans. He strips his cock harder, faster, squeezing it tightly. He bucks his hips up and comes, shouting out Cliff's name.

Cliff captures James' mouth, cutting him off before he can finish shouting his name, swallowing his cry ruthlessly. He trembles along with James, his body shaking uncontrollably as James mewls into his mouth, flicking his tongue in for a taste of Cliff. "Intense," he murmurs distractedly when he pulls away from James' mouth. He clenches his fists tight and holds them to his sides. He's losing control and fast. He's ready to come and James hasn't even touched him.

James pushes his hand into Cliff's jeans. "You--" He finds Cliff's cock and squeezes it gently. "I want to watch you come."

Cliff rocks into his touch. "You'll be able to soon if you keep doing that."

James sits up. It's a little awkward, as he has to push at Cliff until he's upright in the position he wants, but he's finally sitting up. He pulls Cliff close, sucking his cock into his mouth briefly. The taste and feel of Cliff in his mouth is making him shiver, making him crave like an addict craves his vice. Cliff bucks up hard and groans. "Jesus, James, stop, wait--"

James doesn't let go, just sucks Cliff in, loving the taste of him, the way his cock fits his mouth. Cliff grips his shoulders and holds him still, thrusting shallowly into his mouth.

James opens his mouth wider, trying hard to fit all of Cliff in, but it's still too much for him. Instead he runs his tongue over the slit of Cliff's cock, teasing him to the point of agony. Cliff cries out and tries to shrink away, but James yanks him closer and sucks hard. Cliff shudders and lets go, coming convulsively in James' mouth. He falls backwards on the couch with a dull thump. "Christ, that was good," he breathes.

James blushes. "Yeah," he says softly. He traces patterns on Cliff's skin.

Cliff yanks him up and kisses him, rough at first, but slowly softening. "You're so fucking good."

James laughs softly. "I don't even compare to you."

Cliff relaxes against him, sighing softly as James runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on it lightly. "You have no idea, do you? You fuck like you were made for it, James. You move like you were born to it, like it's in your blood. You're amazing."

James buries his face against Cliff's shoulder. "I'm not. I'm just," he twines a lock of Cliff's hair around his finger, "here."

Cliff looks down at him and kisses the top of his head. "You're great," he says. "Trust me. I know things like this."

James rests quietly for a while, thinking distracted musings that go nowhere, blissfully content to just lie like this forever. Cliff seems to agree with him because he doesn't move, just lies on top of James, stroking his skin lazily with a smile on his lips. They doze like that for a while, stuck together with their arms wrapped around each other. Some time later, Cliff wakes up and rubs his eyes blearily, wincing as his back protests moving. "Fuck, we fell asleep on the couch."

"You fell asleep," James says softly. "I was watching you." He touches Cliff's face. "Watching you sleep."

Cliff shakes his head. "Who knew you were a romantic?" He holds out a hand to James. "Come on. Let's relocate to something that won't fuck up our backs."

James clasps Cliff's hand and lets himself be pulled up. He almost stumbles over his jeans, forgetting that he hasn't zipped them up. He swears softly and pulls them up, swatting Cliff when he laughs at him, and makes his way to their small bedroom with its lone bed.

Cliff pulls his shirt over his head and pushes his pants down his legs. He looks up at James, who's just watching him undress. He reaches out to tug at James' shirt. "Take your clothes off and get in the bed."

James grins and puffs his chest out. "Make me."

Cliff laughs. "I can do that." He wrestles James' shirt off, then pulls James to him, kissing him. While James concentrates on the kiss and the feel of Cliff's bare chest against his, Cliff unzips James' jeans again and shoves them down. "Get in the fucking bed," he growls into James' ear.

James scrambles into the bed, laughing as Cliff jumps into the bed with him. There's a brief tussle between them as James tries to wrestle Cliff down to the bed, but Cliff gains the upper hand and holds James down firmly. "I win," he pants.

James laughs and pulls Cliff down to lie on top of him. "Maybe," he murmurs. "I don't think this is too bad either."

Cliff makes himself comfortable on top of James, laying his head on James' shoulder. "I feel like I could sleep for a month," he says tiredly.

James snorts. "You're getting old, Burton."

"Fuck you."

"Already did that."

"Idiot."

"Dick."

"Fag."

"Slut."

"Cocksucker."

James smiles widely. "And a damn good one, too."

Cliff laughs. "Your ego's getting bigger already." A shadow crosses James' face. "That's a good thing," Cliff assures him, stroking his cheek.

James shrinks back a little. Cliff sighs and presses even closer, his hand cupping James' face firmly. "You're shutting me out again," he says softly.

James swallows. "Pride goeth before a fall," he quotes just as softly, not meeting Cliff's eyes.

He turns James towards him until their eyes meet. "You can't live in the future, James. Bad shit happens to everybody all the time, it's just life." He smoothes the hair away from James' temple. "Just live for the now. You'll be happier that way."

James puts his arms around Cliff and holds him close. "I like the now," he says softly.

Cliff kisses his temple. "That's the idea."

They lie together for a long time, silent and entangled in each other, hair spread across the bed, across James' chest. Finally, Cliff rolls off of James to his side, groaning quietly as he does. James clutches at him, a brief moment of panic when Cliff moves away.

Cliff soothes him with soft touches. "Calm down. You're not that big a guy, and I'm pretty heavy." He scoots close to James, pressing all along his side. "Better?"

James nods and holds Cliff close, afraid to let go. All day, he's been battling the idea that Cliff's a ghost and he's the only who can see him. It's why he keeps touching him, stroking him, won't let him go.

Cliff strokes James' chest. "I'm not going anywhere," he says softly. "I promised I'm not leaving you."

"And you always keep your promises," James murmurs, gradually calmed by Cliff's solid presence.

"Yeah," Cliff nods. "Especially the ones I make to you."

"Like what?"

"Always. Forever. Yours," Cliff whispers in his ear.

James shivers in Cliff's arms. "I love you."

Cliff strokes his hair. "I know," he murmurs. He yawns widely and kisses James' cheek. "Go to sleep." He squeezes James tightly for a moment. "I'll still be here in the morning."

James fights sleep. He doesn't want to miss anything and if he sleeps, he can't watch Cliff again; can't watch that beloved face as it relaxes in sleep, can't touch the curves of his body, softly running his lips over Cliff's skin. But Cliff is persuasive, and James finds himself drifting off to sleep. He'll have time to watch Cliff again tomorrow, love him as much as he can.

The End