Jet took a deep gulp straight from the bottle of the burning, stinging liquid. He squeezed his eyes shut and swooned over the counter, gripping its side not to fall over. He swallowed the quick pulse that he felt thrum in his ears before a false warmth washed over him and he could finally smile. He pressed the opening to his swollen lips and held it there for a moment, actually tasting the faint tingle of the alcohol, before chugging nearly half of it.
He didn't know exactly what time it was when he had passed out, just shy of the couch. But before he did, he took comfort in the carpet against his hot cheek, feeling his eyelids get too heavy, too demanding to struggle with anymore, and with a short hiccup he fell asleep.
Barely an hour afterward, Zuko, with four grocery bags on each arm, knocked on the door to his own home. He repeated it a few more times in vain before he sighed irritably and fumbled to unlock the door. Just able to turn the knob, he fell into the doorway exasperated, fingers getting numb from the blue plastic constricting his blood circulation.
He started to yell out for his partner to help him with the groceries but nearly as soon as the angered growl of Jet's name escaped his lips he noticed said person crashed on the floor, hidden between the coffee table and couch.
He rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself questions about how he got involved with such a man so different from himself. The bags were thrown carelessly onto the dining room table; Zuko didn't even bother to take note of where the eggs, bread, and other delicate items were, seeming to have completely disregarded what he just spent valuable money on.
He walked over to his so-called lover and kicked his shins once. "Get up," he commanded, folding his arms across his chest. The man on the floor groaned, still unmoving. Zuko sighed deeply, annoyed, and crouched down, grabbing the brunette's shoulder. "Jet, come on." He allowed a few seconds to go by before he personally couldn't take it anymore and pushed back the coffee table so that he was able to lift up Jet to a sitting position, leaning heavily against the couch. His head flopped around. "At least have the decency to sleep on furniture."
Somehow the words connected with Jet and he gasped himself awake, eyes opening wide and appearing not to know where he was for a moment. Then it all came back to him and a headache presumably followed afterward and he held his temple. "God damn. . . ."
"You're telling me," Zuko rolled his eyes and stood back up, fixing the table yet again. "I'm making dinner. It'd be nice if you could help me put these groceries away." Jet just shook his head uncooperatively, shooing him away.
"Give a man a minute to. . . . Get situated," he slurred, letting his head lop to the side now.
Zuko stared at him incredulously. "You're drunk," he stated flatly, just making a note out of it for his own naïveté that let him believe otherwise.
Jet shot him a glare. "And?"
"I come home at six o'clock and you're passed out drunk," he laughed curtly, palming his forehead. "You're so unbelievable." Instead of throwing him onto their bed or even into the bathroom right at the beginning of the hall so that Zuko wouldn't have to look at him, he gave up and turned back to the kitchen, shoving cans and boxes into cupboards and cabinets and the perishables into the refrigerator, angrily huffing, "Fine then. I'll do it myself."
Jet watched him with a slowly reacting gaze, still a little dizzy from the vodka, before he built himself up and stumbled into the couch, forcing himself up on his own two wobbling feet. "Listen. . . . Listen here, princess," he purred deviously. His words were strung together which made Zuko not pay the least bit of attention. "You know why I'm drunk. So just. . . . Let it go. Let me get drunk for a while."
Zuko stopped what he was doing in a sort of shock at his rather vague bluntness. He turned around slowly, finding the tan male breathing shallowly with puffy eyes. Even in all his frustration and near-regret, his heart still gave way to the man he's told, whispered, and moaned that he loved him countless times that was on the edge of tears. "Jet. . . ." was all he could manage to utter at the time, conflicted on whether to hold his grudge or to succumb that broken soul like he had so many times recently.
"I. . . ." Jet swallowed the lump in his throat, cursing the effects of his liquid happiness that were wearing thin. He shook himself some courage. "Get over here and let me fuck you."
"I hardly think that's going to solve anything," Zuko retorted with a sharp cough of a snicker. He did not want to have sex when Jet was between the edge of sober and intoxicated where he knew that all the man would be thinking about trying not to think about his parents that has so unfortunately been victims of arson almost exactly a year ago.
Jet sauntered his best to the counter, crossing his arms on it and looking Zuko in the eyes. The whites of his were red and Zuko frowned at it. "I need a distraction," he explained simply with a shrug. "Alcohol seems to do just fine, otherwise."
"You and I both know sex and beer aren't making you any better," Zuko said quietly, bringing him a barstool to sit on prior to his fidgeting hands getting distracted by the mess he knew was still behind him. "Can't we just talk this out?" Quickly he added, "When you're sober. I'll get you a glass of water and some pills and you can go lie down." He was happy about- well, not happy per say, but rather settling with- his decision and followed his part through with it, thankful for the silence that fell upon them. The only sound that was heard for a while was the tap and then the shuffle of pills being jostled around in a small bottle.
Zuko rounded the counter to stand next to Jet, offering his hand in assistance with the pills and glass in his hand. Jet hastily took both and put them on the countertop, gripping Zuko's wrist. They shared a moments worth of eye contact before Jet crashed his lips onto Zuko's a little too sloppily, pinching his own lip between his teeth in the process.
Zuko's first intention was to push him away and to resist. "Stop it," he bit.
"I'm not drunk anymore, just a. . . . A little hung-over," Jet just about pleaded, swiping the back of his hand along the side of Zuko's beautiful pale skin. Zuko almost shivered at the touch but resisted.
"Then wait until you're sober," Zuko pressed, only halfheartedly wiggling free of the grip on him that now consisted of a greedy arm around his waist, locking him in place amid Jet's thighs.
"I can't wait that long," Jet nearly moaned, sneakily diving his fingers into the waistband of Zuko's work pants and testing Zuko's limits. The standing man pushed into his tainted caress, cursing himself for being so weak when it came to Jet's body.
"I can," Zuko whispered, trying to be deadly but only letting it leave his lips in an almost desperate way. Not wanting this to escalate to a point where time would be wasted and dinner would be a bowl of cereal, Zuko did, in fact, shake loose and held up the glass of water, boring into Jet expectantly. "Drink."
Jet calculated his situation as fast as he could in his clouded mind, distracted by lust and pain and alcohol, and kept that dangerous eye contact as expressively as he could, making sure that Zuko knew exactly how he was feeling— directed at him or not.
He popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with another swig of pure water, not once looking away. "Better?"
"Now go lie down," Zuko told him, gesturing to the couch.
Jet scowled, pushing his eyebrows inward and forming his lips into a tight line. He wasn't deterred though.
"Fine," he agreed, throwing his hands up and standing a little more stable now and led himself to the living room.
Zuko sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning back to what he was working on. His first burst of energy saved him from doing more than two bags and they all went into the same place, so he was finished relatively quickly. He scratched the back of his neck, wondering when this streak of a bad mood Jet had was going to end.
He got out a bag of corn, mashed potato mix, and two chicken breasts and started pouring the vegetables into separate bowls and was about to turn the oven on when he heard something odd coming from behind him. It was a moan. A moan of pleasure.
He ignored it for as long as he could but then it happened again, deeper, more deliberate, accented with a sharp gasp. Dare he look and antagonize the man? Or just simply go about his business and ignore him, not allowing him the satisfaction of him giving in?
"Zuko. . . ."
Nope. Not gonna look. He shook his head at himself, tending to the dinner he was seeming to get less and less interested in. What does he think we are, anyway? The ruthless hormonal teenagers we were years ago? Hah!
"Nngh. . . ."
A grunt.
"Ahh. . . ."
A shaky breath.
"Shit."
A break in restraint.
Damn.
"Jet, stop whatever you're"— he snapped his head around, not prepared for what he saw—"doing."
There he was, hand down his pants, shirt pushed up just above his navel, exposing his scarred, tan, muscled stomach as he flittered his nails lightly across his skin.
"Stop that!" Zuko yelped, face heating in anger and slight embarrassment. What am I doing blushing like I'm fifteen?!
"I told you—I couldn't wait," Jet groaned, peeking at him with one eye, making sure to arch off the cushions like he knew Zuko liked. At the silence, the tension, the slacked jaw, Jet smirked. "Wipe your drool."
Zuko's cheeks burst with red and even though he knew he wasn't drooling his hand still flew up to his mouth. "Don't you have any class?"
Jet let out a tensed chuckle.
The scarred man was conflicted; disgusted and fascinated. His body ached but his head scolded this behavior, creating an unpleasant heat to surge through him. He forced his misbehaving eyes to look away. Unfortunately they were especially unreasonable today and he had to physically cover them with his hand. "The least you could do is go to the bedroom," Zuko finally managed to force out. His voice was sidetracked and a little shaky. What was it about Jet's tousled brown hair, pink flushed skin, needy, shameless movements of his wrist, unbuttoned jeans and wrinkled shirt that was so attractive?
"Is that an invitation?" Jet cocked an eyebrow, dipped his finger between his lips and visibly swirled his tongue around it with an open mouth.
He's drunk, he's drunk, he's drunk.
"Mmm, Zuko, I want you so bad," Jet tried to whisper seductively. It only lost its intensity when a tiny unwanted giggle slipped past his barriers. "But then again. . . . You could just watch if ya'd like."
That bastard.
In seconds Zuko was straddling his hips and shoving his tongue down Jet's throat, catching him off guard in a gasp when he slammed his groin onto his, sparking delicious friction. The kiss was wet and loud, mangled with deep throated moans as Jet gripped himself with Zuko's own hardness clothed directly above him, able to feel his movements. Zuko pulled back his lips just about gasping for air, licking the saliva off around his mouth. "You're so irritating at times, you know that?" he snapped, still not over the fiery guilt his chest held. He threw off his shirt and slid the belt that coiled around his waist to the floor, loosening his pants. "God, if you weren't so—"
"Sexy? Irresistible? Insanely good in bed?" Jet finished for him, grinning wide and devilishly. Zuko glared at him, nipping sharply at his ear that made him stop.
"If you weren't so distracting I wouldn't have this problem with you," he replied, shimmying down his pants and briefs to his thighs with a liberated sigh. "You're such a. . . . nuisance."
"Don't blame me that you're acting like you're a kid watching porn," Jet laughed, removing his bottoms completely so that their nakedness was opposite. How fitting, Zuko rolled his eyes to himself in his head.
"I will blame you for drunkenly masturbating on our sofa while I'm trying to make dinner," Zuko huffed into his neck, biting down and holding onto his skin as he gripped Jet's ass cheeks, spreading them and positioning his head with Jet's entrance.
"Let's forget that I'm hung-over and enjoy this fucking, shall we?"
As soon as the words finished leaving his mouth Zuko thrust all the way in him with a satisfied mute scream of dominative pleasure. Jet's whole body shook violently for a split second and he ripped lines into Zuko's back with his nails, blinded by bliss and pain. "I'll fuck the alcohol right out of you," Zuko promised, licking the sunken in indents of his teeth on the side of Jet's neck.
Everything seemed to be dragged out, prolonged and lingering to Jet, every bite took an extra second to register, every thrust faded with the next, every heat wave stayed longer than it should have. For Zuko, it wasn't going by fast enough. He wanted this aching, itching desire to be fulfilled and satisfied as quickly as it could.
He situated his weight on an arm propped up on Jet's shoulder as his free hand roamed his sweating, steamy body. This is why he stayed with him. It's hard to admit, but it was true. He was literally addicted to his body. He was addicted to this insatiable, lively, picturesque sexiness of a body—he couldn't stay away from it for very long, he'd experience things similar to withdrawal, and he'd be unable to hold back. That was exactly what happened.
He took his frustration in himself and in Jet on Jet, being rough, aggressive, and over the top passionate. Their skin slapped together and created red patches on their connecting thighs.
"Z—Z—Zuko," Jet gasped out between the thrusts that cut him off. The subject of his attention slowed down to catch his breath and regain his energy, but he never fully ceased.
"What? Are those bottles finally wearing off?" he rolled his eyes, giving him a particularly hard pound.
"YES!" Jet screamed. The alcohol was draining thin and its protection from the stinging pain of raw sex was no longer there. It was there that his brain realized his situation fully.
Zuko laughed somewhat like a madman, but he ignored that fact. "Good." He made a guttural moan deep in his being that hit Jet down to the core. He swallowed hard, preparing for the unexpected. Zuko's sweat rolled off his neck and down onto Jet's already slick chest, mixing with the droplets that dripped off his hair as his pace picked up again. Jet bit down on his lips and squeezed his eyes shut during the remaining two thrusts that sent Zuko to the edge buried deep inside him.
He trembled in blissful release with his jaw slack in a strangled sigh. His nails clawed Jet's stomach with angry red welts as his muscles twitched with spasms. His hips rocked to slowly drag out his orgasm, the pleasure swelling in him more and more with each sputter of his pulsating member. Jet arched his back off the couch as Zuko filled him up with liquid hotness, silently thankful that he was done but cursing his own need for climax.
Zuko smirked with guiltless satisfaction and licked his lips, panting slightly. His mind was blank for the moments when he lingered in Jet, not quite wanting to pull out just yet. Then he did, gradually and relishing in the shocked face Jet had adopted.
"I'm kind of glad you're an ass," he snorted, wiping his hair back with his wrist, "Then I get to fuck you and leave you hanging."
Jet just gaped at him, his erection hard and throbbing between his legs. "You're not fucking serious," he blinked incredulously. Zuko just shrugged and grinned wider, patting Jet's knee as he stood up and stretched his back.
"Oh, I am," he said, leaning down close to his face. "Maybe this'll teach you a lesson." He laughed darkly and kissed him on his unresponsive lips, quickly reaching down and giving his hardness a testing squeeze, shaking his head. "Ouch, that must be painful."
"No shit!" he yelped, smacking Zuko in the arm. The hand stayed wrapped around him and he whined. Oh yes. The alcohol was no longer there. He had a clear mind now and was absolutely a mess. A conscious, sober mess.
Zuko stared him in the eye, making sure that there were no mistakes in this communication. "No more drinking—"
"It's not like I have a problem!"
Zuko gripped him tightly to shut him up and it worked perfectly; Jet was caught in a mute scream. "Promise me. Because I swear if I come home to you drunk or passed out God so help me you're getting cut off a week for every opened bottle."
"You can't just cut me off like that," Jet answered, thinking he found a loophole, "you like sex just as much as I do."
"Don't test me," Zuko warned, almost removing his fingers, "You won't like the result."
"And what would that be?" Jet rolled his eyes, still not realizing the situation he was in with Zuko in control of his orgasm.
"I'd make you watch. And if you touched me I'd just have to tie you up." His tone was a bit mischievous, but he was as serious as ever.
"How does that sound like a bad thing?" Jet asked. In his head he couldn't think of anything sexier than experimenting in the field of bondage with Zuko.
"Because unless you can come without any sort of contact whatsoever, you're going to be sporting a boner for as long as I want you to." He started pumping him skillfully but with just enough of a limit to keep him listening. Zuko added, "And I won't be as nice as I am now."
It didn't take very long for the magic of Zuko's unnaturally hot palm to do its charm and bring Jet to his much needed edge. He gripped onto Zuko's forearm as his hips left the cushion and his breath caught in his throat, crying out the smallest of a moan. Zuko's eye brow raised appreciatively as he closely watched his unmanageable lover got lost in his pleasures. He licked his lips as the last of Jet's ejaculation spilled over his hand and the muscle he had a hold of limped.
Jet's body relaxed similar to the way Zuko's had but there was a persistent sting in his body that ached and prevented him from the priceless afterglow that Zuko obtained and still illuminated. "You're lucky that dinner's on the stove and I'm not in a bad mood."
Jet shook his head leisurely, brushing his fingers through Zuko's black hair. "You call the earlier attitude you were in 'not a bad mood'?" He was slightly teasing but knew Zuko well enough not to push it.
"Shut up," Zuko chortled, taking his hand back and wiping it off with Jet's discarded shirt, "I was in actually having a pretty nice day until I came home."
"I'm so sorry pounding into my ass was such a killjoy," Jet rolled his eyes. However his mind betrayed him and snuck in a barely-there grin, despite the pain in his rear end.
"It would have been better if we'd had a nice romantic home-cooked meal beforehand and maybe enjoyed a little foreplay. And if we were on our bed."
"I agree with you all but the bed part," Jet said, pulling Zuko closer to him. He held Zuko's face in his hands. Zuko knew that deep, deep down that this tenderer side of his partner was what really kept them together.
"Why is that?" Zuko mused, switching between his dangerous light brown eyes.
"Because I know you love to have sex in kinky places once in a while."
"A couch is not kinky. A couch is lazy," Zuko pointed out.
"Yeah but a bed is so. . . . traditional," Jet laughed, bringing him in for a kiss. His stomach fluttered as he did so.
"But I'm so good in bed! Literally," Zuko countered with a matter-of-fact smirk.
"No argument there," Jet agreed. Zuko rolled his eyes and stood up, re-buttoning his pants again and leaving Jet to lie back and stretch.
Zuko immediately checked on his food and sighed thankfully that nothing had burned. Actually, the vegetables were cooked pretty well and as long as he kept them warmed in the oven while he made the potatoes and chicken breast on the stovetop, dinner could be made in twenty minutes. Zuko smiled to himself and forgot why he had gotten him so riled up and angry before. His skin was still tingling with aftermath and the sweet caresses and kisses Jet had just offered washed away the aggravation of what he had been greeted with after a long day's work and shopping. And his quite secretive passion for cooking was making sparkles in his eyes as he worked in the kitchen. Being so enveloped in this art form, he hadn't the slightest acknowledgement of Jet, now clad in his pants once again, padding his way across the tiled floor to wrap his arms around Zuko's waist and to press his lips to the back of his bare neck. Zuko jumped for a moment but was instantly soothed by the palms flattening out on his stomach.
"I just wanted to say sorry for earlier," Jet whispered reluctantly, grateful that his face was hidden in Zuko's hair. He was honest, but never good at admitting his wrongdoing, which anyone else would probably see as insincerity.
Zuko just smiled and patted his arm affectionately, resting his hand on it for a while as he simply enjoyed his warmth. His tanner boyfriend began to sway gently back and forth in a smooth, even rhythm. Zuko's eyes eventually slipped shut and he let silent music be played in his ears, moving along with the beat Jet offered him.
"Y'know I just miss my parents so bad. . . ."
"Hey, hey, hey," Zuko shushed him, turning his head so Jet could see his face a little bit, "You don't have to talk about it. We can wait 'til tomorrow; I have off."
"I know you do," Jet mumbled, kissing his earlobe and holding him tighter, "But I shouldn't be getting happiness from a bottle when this is what makes me happy. You make me happy. And I'm sorry for not seeing that."
Zuko rotated in his arms so that they were face to face, and he circled Jet's neck with his arms, continuing their idle dancing. "Well now that you say that I feel guilty for being so rough with you," he smiled sheepishly, twirling a piece of his hair.
Jet smiled back and shook his head. "Don't feel guilty. I need to be manhandled sometimes," he chuckled.
Zuko laughed back. "Damn right. You were really pissing me off."
"But you're so sexy when you're all hot and bothered," Jet cocked an eyebrow, biting his lip playfully.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay," Zuko rolled his eyes, leaning their foreheads together. "Save it for later."