Chapter 10: The Never-ending Bath Scene

Dirk: Mack on Jake

He's still sleeping. Don't you think that's a little creepy? Yeah, you do.

You wake up the next morning with a splitting headache. Glaring blearily around the room, you realize exactly why.

You're still in the fucking fairy forest.

Jake is sound asleep next to you, and he doesn't even move when you stealthily extricate yourself from the bed. You take a few minutes to wash up as best you can before throwing on the same clothes you were wearing before (gross in your opinion) and make your way out the door.

You're in search for a shower, bath, or even an extremely public lake to bathe in when you run into Dave. Quite literally.

Your little bro actually winces a little bit when he crashes into you after rounding a corner. You notice the disheveled state of his hair and raise an eyebrow. "Looking for a shower too?"

He nods and mutters, "it's like the fucking Labyrinth in here, and David Bowie is making me his little bitch holding a shower hostage instead of a little brother. Whatever, I don't trust a guy that stuffs a cucumber down his pants anyway."

You smirk back and point out, "he claims he didn't."

"Yeah whatever, like I believe that. I've seen enough dicks to know when someone's full of shit," Dave mutters. It looks like he's tempted to say more, but for once he somehow miraculously holds his tongue. Instead, he asks, "don't suppose you know which way to go?"

You really don't, but you're not about to tell Dave that. Instead, you jerk your head to the left and say, "this way."

As you're walking down the corridors of the palace, you notice something that makes you mentally pause in interest. It's so minor a detail that you doubt anyone else would even notice, but Dave has been your brother for a very long time. Nothing gets by you.

Dave's limping.

You find it interesting, considering incubi heal very quickly. Especially when they've been fed. And you have a pretty good feeling that John didn't hesitate to show Dave his affections last night. You quirk an eyebrow at him and ask, "rough night?"

Dave grumbles, "you're just as bad as Bro."

"Just lookin' out for ya, lil' man," you respond, letting a bit of your accent bleed into your words. When it's just you and Dave, sometimes you don't bother to hide it. It's not like Dave doesn't know you lived in Texas for a while. He lived there too.

Dave sighs and shakes his head. He pauses in the middle of the hallway. When you stop and turn to face him, he leans in a little closer to you, lowers his voice, and mutters, "John's—he's got—he's holy? And when he finished, I didn't heal up like usual? I don't fucking know!"

You're stricken. It takes all of your Strider skill not to bust out laughing. You know that you should be pitying your dear brother, but you can't help the tiny smirk that comes to your lips.

Dave notices immediately, of course, and he shoves you away. "Oh fuck you! Like I chose to—"

"Dave," you say, quieting his rant. "Sorry dude, it's just kind of funny. You've gotta admit that."

"It is not funny," Dave growls back.

"Yeah, ok, if I were in your shoes I wouldn't think it was funny either," you admit. "But you don't look that worse for wear. Does it hurt?"

"Just a little," he murmurs. "Is this what regular humans feel like every time? Fuck, it must suck for them."

You shrug and offer, "some are better at accommodating than others. You know that." You pause for a moment, gazing critically at Dave. "And some are just hung better."

The light flush that comes to his already too-pale cheeks is all the answer you need. But it does help that he insistently stammers, "fuck you, man."

You decide to have pity on your little bro and instead settle for patting his shoulder and walking away. "Let's find you a shower."

"Thought you knew where you were going?" Dave mutters, still sounding a little bitter.

"I do."

You don't.

About five minutes later, you find yourselves outside in a secluded little glen. A small pool of clear water is surrounded by trees. Next to the side of the pool, there are sponges, buckets, and towels that clearly mark this particular pool as a bathing pool. Oh, and even if it wasn't a bathing pool, there's one other little thing that would make you want to bathe here anyway.

Jake's already there.

"Good day, old chaps!" he shouts jovially, waving from where he's standing in the middle of the pool. "I say, the water is quite crisp! Care to join me?"

You and Dave both share a glance. Your little bro shrugs and mutters, "he's your boyfriend."

At one point in time, you probably had both shame and humility. But given your incubus nature, both are long gone. Screwing thousands of people will help a person get over that. So, you don't really care if a billion fairies are watching you or not, and you don't hesitate to shrug off your clothes in the broad daylight. You even leave your shades in the small clothing pile, noticing that Jake left his glasses aside too.

You kind of forget Dave's even there and focus on joining Jake in the water that is indeed quite "crisp."

It's nice having nothing between your eyes and his. You can see his deep emerald hue much better this way. And though you will love Jake no matter what he wears, you do think he's quite handsome ditching the glasses. Part of you knows that you'll have to be very careful not to inadvertently place him under your suggestion, but that's a risk you are willing to take.

"How'd you beat us out here?" You ask, wrapping your arms around Jake and leaning in, touching your forehead to his.

You feel it instantly. His happiness and love. You feel a warmth mirroring his in your own chest, ecstatic yourself that his love is still there. It didn't go out overnight. You're helpless to stop the happy grin that spreads across your lips.

Jake smiles, embracing you back. You feel the bar of soap that he brought out with him on your back, and you wonder if the pixies are going to throw a fit or not. Whatever, you've had to deal with their spiteful forest, they can deal with a little soap. "Didn't you look out the window in the room? It leads right out here!" He says, pointing up to a window quite high up.

"You jumped?"

"Well, I thought I'd give your rocket-board a whirl. I still have that. Err-had that," he admits, glancing aside very suspiciously.

"Jaaaaaake—" the way you trail his name makes him flinch a little bit. "What happened to my rocketboard?"

"It might have disappeared into the trees that way and dumped me into this lake?" he explains. "Sorry if I broke it."

You want to give him a hard time, because that guilty face he's making is so adorable. But you also don't want to make Jake feel bad. So instead, you shrug and answer honestly, "I'll just fix it."

Jake seems somewhat relieved by that answer, and his grip loosens on you, his hands slipping down lower on your back. You hum lightly at the feeling of his bare skin against yours, loving the feeling of his honest joy as you taste his energy just a bit. He's so simple, so warm, so happy. How the hell is he so much older than you?

"Ugh. Little brother? Right here? If you're gonna get your mack on, could you at least wait until I'm gone?" Dave asks, splashing some water over at you from where he's bathing on the complete opposite side of the pool. "Talk about awkward."

You're inclined to ignore him and keep sampling Jake's delicious energy, but your boyfriend has far more shame than you. His cheeks flush after Dave's comment, and he hastily pulls away from you. "I-I suppose we should focus on the bathing we came here to do!" he stammers, returning to vigorously scrubbing beneath his arms with the bar of soap.

Swiftly, you catch his wrist, and snatch the soap out of his hand. When he glances at you in question, you give him a fond look and say, "allow me."

Slowly, sensually, you begin sliding the soap along Jake's skin. You start at his left shoulder, rubbing circles with both the soap and your fingers. You allow your fingertips to dance across his skin, especially the sensitive place at the crook of his neck that makes him gasp. As you run the soap down his arm, you massage little circles into his muscles, appreciating his lean strength. Ghosting your fingers along the underside of his arm makes him flinch ever so slightly, and his energy prickles with a light sensation of—ticklishness? You smirk, you'll have to remember that for later.

You lightly pull at each of his fingers, taking care to wash clean the dirt that has caked beneath his nails from exploring the forest yesterday. Then you move on to his chest, feeling the warmth of his beating heart beneath his skin. It may be your imagination, but you feel like the gentle fire of his love is stronger here. Before soaping it, you place a kiss atop his chest where his heart lays.

Jake sighs softly, bringing his hand to your cheek. His hand still has soap on it, but you don't mind. You have plans for Jake, and a little soap isn't going to hurt anything. If anything, it's going to help.

His abdomen is next. While his chest didn't sport all that much hair, the trail leading from his navel to his dick is dense with thick dark hair. He flinches when you twist your fingers through the trail. Again? Lucky you. Looks like Jake is ticklish in more than one place.

You finish washing his other arm and move on to his back. The muscles beneath his skin are bulky and tight. You remember hearing once that this means he's holding his tension in his back. But what tension could he be holding?

You have no idea. What could possibly be bothering your carefree boyfriend? He never seems to be upset by anything.

The way you see it, he only has two possible stressors in his life: his work and you. But Jake loves the work you do. The more dangerous, the more "exciting" it is to him. The more arduous, the more "fun" he sees it.

You suppose that you could be the thing that's stressing him, but Jesus fucking Christ, you just started dating a week ago. Aside from your little tryst a couple nights ago, and the occasional kiss here and there, it isn't as if your relationship even changed much after becoming boyfriends.

You could be wrong about it, though you're 95% certain you aren't, but you don't think that you are the thing stressing Jake.

Whatever it is, Jake must not have told you about it yet. It's the only conclusion that makes sense.

Though you're worried about him, you don't want Jake to catch on. So, you don't stop sweeping the bar of soap across his back as you think all of these things, working your fingers around his skin, instinctively rubbing at the tense knots that have you concerned.

You decide not to fret about what you can't control. Jake will tell you eventually.

So, you move along, dipping the soap below the water level and dragging it slowly across his nice ass. Fuck do you love his ass. You can't resist squeezing his left cheek after soaping it up, making Jake squeak a bit in surprise.

You're vaguely aware of Dave splashing frantically to get out of the pool, and good riddance. Internally, you smirk. Now you can do things you might not have done in front of him.

Jake gasps as you dip the soap between his legs, rubbing it along his inner thigh. "I don't suppose I could convince you to let me wash these parts myself, could I?" he asks softly.

"Mm-mm," you hum in the negative. The sounds that catch in the back of Jake's throat as you gently trace your fingers along his skin are too tempting to resist.

You decide it's time to up the ante. Lightly, you press a kiss into the back of Jake's neck, and the soft gasp that catches in his throat makes you struggle to keep your own self control. You want to grab him, and take him, and consume his very soul.

You are so glad that Jake can't see your eyes right now, because you know it will be hard to stop yourself from suggesting more at this point. Instead, you dip your head below the surface of the water, and move on to wash his lower half.

Thankfully, you don't have to worry about breathing. You slide the bar down Jake's outer thighs first, then move down to his feet. Jake causes you to grin as he wiggles his toes uncomfortably when you wash the bottom of his feet. As you rub the soap along the backs of his legs, you smirk again, noting that muscles in his legs tense when you touch the area just behind his knees.

Ticklish data stored for later.

You move to Jake's inner thighs, approaching the dense tangle of hair between his legs and your prize within it several times only to back away. You think Jake's saying something, but you can't really tell what it is from under the water.

But you can sense him. You can feel his steadily growing frustration, and you can see the evidence of his want growing between his legs. Impatient as always, Jake begins to steadily lean into your touches, not so stealthily moving his dick closer to your hands when you approach it with the soap.

But every time, you back down. And every time, you feel the need building within him.

Such a fucking tease. That's you.

And then you remember something. Jake and public displays of affection don't really mix. You're certain that there must be fairies all around by this time of the day, so why is Jake so willing?

What if he isn't? What if it's actually you that wants this? You that placed the suggestion in his head?

Your hands pause in their work as you think about it, letting go of Jake's legs. Almost instantly, Jake's hands plunge beneath the surface of the water, grasp yours, and place them back on his skin.

Aggressive, isn't he? You love it. It fuels a delicious fire of want inside you, and you're certain you've never wanted to fuck someone as much as you want to fuck Jake English. Or have him fuck you. You honestly don't care.

Because with anyone else, you know exactly what you would do. You would tease him until he begged you for release, then you would fuck him, drink his life's energy, and wipe away his memories, leaving him with nothing to remember you by in the morning. You would use him but keep his heart intact, leaving only yours to sink deeper into the dark depths of loneliness.

But this isn't anyone else. This is Jake. You love him and aren't about to hurt him with the darkness inside you.

Your mind made up, you surface, letting the water splash behind you. You quickly run both hands through your hair, slicking it back out of your eyes so that you can see Jake. Really see Jake.

"I thought you didn't need to breathe?" Jake asks, sounding a little impatient.

"I don't. Chill. I just need to ask you something," you say. You watch his bright green eyes for any sign of doubt, being careful not to leave any of your own influence as you ask, "do you really want this Jake?"

Jake stares at you, a frown slowly forming on his lips. "What are you going on about now?"

That's right. This is Jake you're talking to. Better be a little more blunt. "Do you want me to suck your dick? Do you want sex? We're in the middle of the fucking fairy forest. In a magic bathing pool. Probably surrounded by little voyeur fairies just waiting to get a glimpse of this hot bod, and I'll have to tell them sorry, this is all Jake's."

Jake laughs, pressing his hands to your chest. He's warm. He's genuine. He's happy. "Stop stop! You're starting to sound like your brother! The Dave brother!"

"Little shit learned from the best," you agree. "But seriously, Jake, I don't want to push anything on you that you don't want. You know that."

Jake sighs, almost in exasperation this time. "Yes, I know that. Would it help if I did this?"

He does something you really aren't expecting next. He takes your hands, and places them on top of his rock hard dick. "Dirk, I want this. I want you to touch me. I want to fuck you."

"That escalated quickly," you murmur.

"Dirk, you've been cockteasing me for fifteen minutes already!" Jake growls back in a way that definitely does not go straight to your dick.

Oh who are you kidding? It went straight to your dick. Still, you manage to chuckle and say, "fifteen minutes? Baby, that ain't nothing."

You would have said more, but Jake shuts you up rather quickly, leaning the extra few inches forward and bringing your lips together. His kiss is sweet, but it's also needy. His lips meld to yours and if you didn't know better, you would think he was trying to pull the life-force from you. It's hot, and you love it. You can feel Jake's anticipation of what's to come on his tongue.

Heh. Come on his tongue? Not any time soon, you don't think.

Jake digs his fingernails into your back, pulling you closer to him. He gasps lightly when your dicks finally make contact.

Oh, hello boner. Didn't realize you were there. But since you are…

You decide that Jake must want this. It's not your influence this time. So you waste no time grabbing his fine rump and pulling him to you, grinding your hardness to his. He catches the sound of a cry in the back of his throat this time, not quite fully letting it go. Internally, you frown. You'll have none of that.

So you let your hands drift a little higher, up to his waist. Then you pull him casually over to the side of the pool. One last time, you murmur, "you're sure you don't mind voyeur fairies?"

"Ballocks Dirk! Which of us is the incubus?" he asks, sealing the deal.

You lean back against the edge of the bathing pool. It's earthen and soft, but somehow the fairies have worked magic into it so that none of the dirt comes off on your skin or dirties the pool. For once, you're a little grateful you're in the fairy forest.

Jake is quick to lean into you, his dense muscular frame draped over you and his lips again on yours. Making out with Jake just might be one of the best things ever. In every touch, you feel his growing elation, his delight, and his raw need. It's a need you crave to satisfy, and you'll let him take you as soon as he seems to be ready.

Jake whines a bit in the back of his throat again, grinding his dick into yours. You immediately thrust back up, creating more deliciously warm friction. It's difficult to find purchase in this pool, but against the side, and with Jake pressed so tightly against you, you can easily feel every dip and ridge in his body. Every muscle. Every time part of his warm skin brushes against yours.

For several minutes, it's an all out grinding, kissing, and making out war. You find yourself pushed back farther and farther against the bank of the pool until you're left with no direction to go except Jake. And yes, you've decided that Jake is definitely a direction.

So you move toward Jake, letting your hands roam free across his skin, your fingernails digging into places that make him hiss and raking through his hair in ways that make him moan softly with pleasure. Jake finally fixes his gaze on you, and you can tell from the look in his brilliant green eyes that he wants you.

Jake's ready. And he wants you. He wants you badly.

At some point, Jake discarded the soap along the side of the pool. You are quick to snatch it up. Coating a few fingers in the slippery substance, you are quick to prepare yourself. Not so much because you need the preparation. One benefit of being an incubus is your "ability" (you use that term loosely here) to not need much or any preparation for sex. After all, what self-appreciating incubus isn't ready to romp 100% of the time?

Really, it's more for Jake's comfort that you slide three then four fingers in and out of yourself. You don't waste much time with it, and as you slick just a bit more soap inside yourself, you smirk at him and ask, "you know how this works?"

"I think I have an idea," he murmurs, his lust-laden eyes on your fingers as they work you.

"Good, explaining things is so awkward," you mutter back. Then, you lean back against the bank and use your arms to pull yourself out of the water. By some stroke of luck, the bank of the pool is about the same height as his dick. Your ass and his line up perfectly. Win.

You heave an exaggerated sigh, tossing your hair aside all for show, and slide your feet to each side, giving him a generous view of yourself.

And all Jake does is stare. His mouth opens slightly. He seems transfixed. You really really hope it's in a good way, but you aren't going to get your hopes up.

You frown slightly. "Dude, don't tell me you're getting cold feet now," you murmur.

"N-no! Not at all, old chap!" he stammers, his gaze finally falling to your eyes. "I've just—never been with a man before."

Oh no. That's right. You're Jake's first boyfriend. What if he—

Before you can even think farther, Jake smiles shyly at you. Softly, he says, "you're beautiful."

Had anyone else said that, you would have left right there. Your hunger be damned. You would have stood up, gracefully given him the bird, and walked away without a word.

But when Jake says it, your heart melts. You can feel his sincerity, see the earnestness behind his eyes, and sense his happiness and elation to be with you.

You. Nobody else. You.

You've never been happier in your entire fucking life. And when Jake finally moves forward, slowly, cautiously lining himself up with you, that happiness only grows. He pushes into you carefully, like he doesn't want to break you. As if he could. But still, the thought makes you smile. Jake is cautious because he doesn't want to hurt you. He cares about you.

He loves you.

The thought makes you gasp, and he glances at you sharply, the concern evident in his expression. "Keep going, English. You're doing great." You will yourself to offer as little resistance as possible. Slowly, carefully, he slides into you, filling you with his delicious warmth.

You feel it when he's fully inside you. Not just because the fuzz around his dick has met your balls, but because you can sense the overwhelming emotion coming from Jake. You know before he does it that he's going to lean over and kiss you.

So when he does, you eagerly meet his lips, your tongue greeting his and pulling at him playfully. You love this man. You love him so much.

He keeps kissing you as he slowly, almost experimentally, moves out and then back into you. You give him a small hum of encouragement. He's doing things right. Hell, you don't think Jake can really do anything wrong at this point.

You start rolling your hips in time to meet him, and you feel the pleasure wrack through him, from his core, through his arms and legs, to his fingers and toes, and into you. His energy is so fucking wonderful. It's so Jake.

He starts picking up the pace, and it isn't long before you can feel his breath quickening, his body beginning to shudder with want. You grip his butt tighter, pulling him into you harder. He isn't trying to contain the small whines anymore, and it's music to your ears.

He loves you he loves you he loves you.

You love him you love him you love him.

Jake's body tenses, his movements becoming sharper, more forceful. You know he's close. You are too. And if you time this right—

Jake stills, and you feel the warmth of his love spilling inside you. You allow yourself a deep throated growl, one you usually hold back so as not to scare people. But this is Jake. Somehow, you know he will accept you for what you are regardless of what you do.

A second later, you're coming with him, squeezing the plushness of his rump tighter, letting yourself spill everywhere between yourself and him. It's a fucking unbelievably crazy high.

The burning fire of his energy surrounds you like lava, completely carrying you away. For a few moments, you simply stop being. You aren't.

There's only Jake. Jake's happiness. Jake's love.

A few moments later, you come back to yourself to find your hands stroking Jake's back lightly. He's still laying on top of you, panting softly from the exertion. Your come is everywhere. It makes one giant sticky mess, and you guess it's a good thing there's a bathing pool nearby. Have you ever come this much in your life? How the hell could loving someone affect that?

Jake finally props himself up on his elbows, grinning at you lopsidedly. "Well, Strider, that was quite a go," he murmurs softly.

"Yeah. Yeah it was," you agree lightly.

"I don't suppose you would care for a bath again?" he asks, his grin growing wider. "Perhaps you will allow me the honor of bathing you this time?"

Even though you just had literally mind-blowing sex, he's fucking planning something. It's something stupid. Something John might do. But you can't seem to bring yourself to mind right now. "Yeah, sure."

His smile is so wide that it practically splits his face in two. You grip onto him tighter instinctively. Here it comes. Here it fucking comes.

Jake lifts you off the ground with those oversized biceps, and tosses you into the middle of the pool. The splash is so huge it knocks a good amount of water out of the pool, showering at least a couple dozen fairies that were sitting around, invisibly watching you two go at it. And that's just the fairies nearby.

Voyeur fairies. You fucking knew it.

The fairies, now revealed as the perverts they are, shriek and quickly fly away. Jake's face turns a shade of crimson that you adore on him. When he looks at you, a small shy grin on his face and a bar of soap in his hand, you're certain of two things.

Jake English is a huge dork. But you are absolutely in love with him.

You wouldn't have him any other way.

LateNiteSlacker's Notes:

This chapter earned its title because I thought this scene was never going to end. Ever.