Kiss
by Erin
January 2005

It was easy, kissing Jett. Far too easy. Joxer just leaned forward, cutting off the steady stream of words, the old lecture on handling weapons that Joxer had heard once too often and it was so much nicer to hear nothing at all. Nothing beyond the soft, shocked gasp that he more felt than heard, warm breath against his lips as his mouth closed over Jett's.

He wanted to see Jett's reaction but he was equally afraid of it and Joxer kept his eyes tightly shut. He just stood there, close enough to feel the heat from Jett's body, lips pressing but not demanding.

Anyone could've walked into the armory, their father, the servants, but Joxer didn't let it stop him from stepping just that much closer. Tilting his head for a better angle, he shivered as the leather of Jett's vest brushed against his bare chest, sliding against sweat slicked skin.

Joxer couldn't help the faint moan that escaped him, muffled against Jett's lips. It all felt so...so right in a way Joxer knew should've been very wrong. His own brother.

Jett didn't push him away but there was no response either, other than that first light gasp, and eventually Joxer couldn't drag it out anymore. He had to draw back, open his eyes and face whatever Jett would do to him for daring to presume...so much.

But Jett's expression was unreadable. Eyes narrowed, but not in anger as he looked closely at Joxer.

Breathing harder than he thought he should, Joxer had to look away, at the floor, the weapons hanging along the walls, anywhere but at that intent gaze so focused on him. He could feel his cheeks heating and knew he'd screwed up, same as always. Although he'd never done it quite like this.

"Sorry," he said, but his voice was soft and he didn't really mean it, not for his actions anyway. He wasn't sorry for stealing a kiss, one he'd wanted for...too long now, but he would regret losing his closeness with Jett, that thing, that something that felt like "brother" to him -- felt like it should be so much more than that.

Jett's hand closed around his upper arm, grip firm but not even close to bruising. Joxer's eyes went first to that hand, then back to Jett's face, taking a deep breath as he readying himself for whatever Jett would do.

Jett licked his lips, a slow, drawn out movement that left them glistening with moisture and left Joxer suddenly short of breath. All thoughts of bracing for a confrontation fleeing his mind at the simple sight of Jett's tongue.

"Is this why you watch me, Jox?" Jett asked softly, no judgment there, just...curiousity.

Joxer nodded, not trusting his voice to keep its normal timbre instead of taking on a husky, aroused tone.

Then the corner of Jett's mouth quirked up into a half smirk. "Okay."

Joxer didn't have a chance to respond, to even think. Jett tugged him forward, arm sliding around his waist, holding him tight, close. And Jett kissed him.

Lips pressuring his open, Jett's tongue sliding across, over his, wet and slick and anything but the neat and chaste kiss Joxer had given him. And where had Jett learned to kiss like this? To hold someone so tight that it hurt to breathe in a good way? To get someone hard with a flick of his tongue, a twist of his hips? Joxer had thought his fumblings with the servants had given him experience, but Jett knew this, in a way Joxer's imagination hadn't touched on, a way no one had ever touched him.

Eyes falling shut without conscious decision, the image of Jett's intent, hungry gaze burned into his mind, Joxer dug his fingers into Jett's shoulders, into hot skin and slick leather, wiry muscles flexing beneath his grip. He just held on. And let Jett show him.

Fin