9. Strings
This contains slash (actually, more so than I've ever ventured to write before. I admit that I'm timid with it, so unfortunately I rarely practice _ ).
Most of the time, they do hate one another, but sometimes the boredom of gloomy, dull eternity forces the need for a distraction.
Jacob wakes from uneasy sleep when the door creaks open, and he recognizes Esau by the heavy footsteps. No one else would stride so unabashedly into Jacob's territory like that. The way he moves always fascinates Jacob, so confident despite him being the prisoner, and it's even more captivating when Esau slides onto Jacob's bed and swings one leg over his to straddle the blonde.
Esau's lips press insistently against Jacob's, almost fiercely, as Jacob expected they would be. He blinks in alarm when he realizes that he can't shake the grip of Esau's wrists. Not that Jacob really wants to—he's been bored and frustrated for weeks only to find himself suddenly pinned to his bed by his only companion. Knowing Esau's aggressive instincts, it's no surprise to feel his teeth at Jacob's neck. Wasting no time, Esau shoves the sheet aside and wraps his hand around Jacob where he is already embarrassingly hard, and he can imagine that this is no surprise to Esau.
Of course, he knows exactly what he's doing, and the way his hand moves over Jacob is skilful and on the verge of painful, just no-nonsense twists and pressure that unravels him far too quickly, and it's too much, too fast. Jacob swallows the moan that tugs as his throat, willing himself to keep silent.
"I saw you spying on me earlier," Esau growls, and though Jacob hears the words he only wants to arch his hips into the touch, but Esau's weight keeps him pinned. "You need to be taught a lesson," he hisses, and as Esau's voice echoes around Jacob he isn't sure if he's nodding or shaking his head or completely still, because the room lurches and spins in front of him and Esau is so close. A little rougher in the way he moves, and Jacob's too far gone, his body needs it, and he's just staring and doing nothing to fight it, and Esau smirks and licks his lips. He squeezes Jacob a little more tightly, and Jacob's lost to it, the shock of it surging through him, mixing with the sensation of the constant stroking, and he feels himself seize and shudder, hears himself cry out, and Esau laughs.
When both are satiated, Esau tugs the sweat-soaked blanket off the bed. He lies down next to Jacob, with just enough space between them so that no part of their bodies touch, and promptly collapses into sleep.
But Jacob remains awake. He can already feel soreness setting in, and knows he'll have an uncomfortable time of it for awhile. And for what, a brief distraction? A few seconds of uncertain pleasure/pain? It hadn't solved anything. Nothing had changed, really.
As if they were threads on the loom, Jacob gently twists the strands of Esau's hair, slides his fingers in the black strings without concern for waking the other man. No, Esau, will be asleep for some time. The fire's long burnt out, and Jacob is unable to see even the face of the other in the dark. Of course it is better that way, because in the absence of light he does not have to acknowledge that anything took place at all.
