Jett is home. He can hear the boys heartbeat thrumming in his ears, somehow soothing the deep set ache behind his right eye. Gally is grateful for the brief moment of peace. He has to go inside though.
It seems that Eustass and Thatcher are finally home. All the vehicles are in the yard. Gally pauses at Thatcher's jeep, closing his eyes and seeing scattered memories of the night he'd been brought here. His vision had been lost, for how long Gally didn't know. The first thing he saw upon regaining it had been Thatcher's face. He'd wondered if he'd died. Thatcher could have been an angel for all Gally knew. He'd looked into the man's eyes, and it was the last time he'd ever see such a clear blue. He is grateful for that. If he'd been dying, it would have been a great last image. Instead he's here, and he sees Thatcher's eyes every night in his dreams. It's only a small comfort, but Gally holds onto it with two hands.
He trudged past the jeep.
There are a few lights on in the home. Thatcher's bags are still lying forgotten beside the staircase. Gally can't hear anyone moving around though, so he assumes they are resting.
Jett is here, but Gally doesn't find him in the kitchen. Jett's spent much of his time 'stress baking' lately, filling the kitchen with various baked goods. Gally stops long enough to grab a muffin before heading up the stairs. He pauses outside Jett's door, brow furrowing in confusion as he realizes the boy isn't in there. Instead Gally ventures on to his bedroom, staggering to a halt as he opens the door and finds Jett sitting on his mattress. He is shocked, but not really. It's a strange sensation.
"Welcome back." Jett doesn't look up at him. The boy is sitting cross legged on Gally's bed, reading a well worn book. Gally realizes belatedly that the book is his, too. It's the iliad. His mother had read it to him before the world went to shit. It's still his favorite.
"Thanks, I reckon. I appreciate the sarcasm, fuckin' charming." Gally grunts in response, unsure of how to act with this boy in his space. Jett comes and goes, just as quickly as a hurricane might. He's just as destructive, and he never sticks around.
So why is he here?
Gally can't fathom that the boy may have been sitting here waiting on him. Its an absurd thought, and Gally squashes it the moment it pops into his head.
Jett stares at him for a while, watches as he pulls off his work boots. Gally hates those fucking things. He hates a lot of things, and yet he puts up with them anyways. Maybe he's not the hardass he thought he was.
Jett is still staring. Gally fidgets with his hands, picks at the buttons of his flannel shirt. He wants to give the boy something to stare at but he's at a loss with those eyes boring into him.
"You came back late today."
They haven't talked about the kiss. Just like they haven't breached the subject of the night when Jett showed up at the bar. They haven't spoke of panic attacks or Jett wearing Gally's clothes, oversized and threatening to fall off the boys shoulders. They haven't mentioned Jett's sleeping in Gally's bed. They wont talk about Gally coming home and finding the boy in his room.
Gally finally released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, wandering over to sit beside Jett on the bed.
"No shit? Well damn. An' here I was thinkin' I was early."
Jett is wearing one of Galileo's high school hoodies and a pair of dark sweat pants. Gally wants to kiss him.
Gally has accepted that he isn't very good at lying to himself.
"Fuck off, Leo. Im trying to be civil here. Don't fucking ruin it." Jett set the book aside, turning fully to face Gally as though that would make things easier.
Gally caught a glimpse of the boys lips, and promptly looked away.
"I was wanting to talk about Boyd, and you're all I got."
Galileo blinks, stupidly. He isn't sure he understands, he must have heard wrong.
"Well if ya want my opinion, I think Boyd is one stupid mother fucker and there ain't jack shit anyone can do to help that." Gally doesn't like talking about Boyd. Doesn't like Boyd at all. He makes this clear every chance he gets. "And I think it's a damn shame that you're spendin' so much time frettin' over some shit that is outta your power." Its not Jett's fault this happened. Gally wants to tell him that, too. He doubts anyone else has.
Silence falls over them. Gally struggles with words, and Jett stares at him in contemplation. The boys face is drawn, eyebrows pulled together and lips twitching into a bothered frown. He opens his mouth, and Gally expects him to argue. It's what he does best, after all.
Gally doesn't understand what happens next. His brain doesn't know how to process this, can't believe Jett isn't fighting him.
"I get all that." The boy speaks softly, like he's admitting a dark secret. Gally feels something lift in his chest. "Boyd is an idiot for doing this to himself. And I know there isn't anything I can do about it. But it doesn't matter....I loved him once. I'll always love him. I feel helpless. I feel like..." Jett's breath hitches on the words. He doesn't have to say it. Gally knows.
For a moment he feels anger, unadulterated and hateful towards Boyd for getting them into this situation. Towards himself, for not being able to fix it. He is a handy man. It's all he's good for, and here he is, useless.
"It ain't your fault, ya know. You ain't got nothing to do with this. Addiction is strong. It ain't like you drove him to this, so don't go winding yourself up thinking you did. You hear me?" Gally grasps Jett's wrist, holds it firm but soft. He makes sure he has the boys undivided attention.
"You didn't do this, Jones. An' there wasn't a damn thing ya could've done to stop it. So let yourself off the hook, alright? Stop mopin' around here like a ghost. It's gettin' on my fuckin nerves. I liked you better when ya had some fight in your bones."
Jett listens to him and never tries to interrupt. He looks lost, and found, and frustrated. His eyes shift between Gally's face and the man's hand on his wrist. It's warm. Gally is always warm.
He makes Jett warm.
"You're right. Thank you, Leo." Gally always imagined Jett would rather suffocate than say anything so kind to him. But here they were, and the boy was making it look easy.
God, Gally hates him. He can't stand all this civility.
"Bless all, im sorry." Galileo leans forward, grinning. Jett notices he has a dimple. Only one, in his right cheek.
"Could you repeat that darlin? So I can make it my ringtone." The endearment slips out before Gally can catch it. And now it's just there, hanging between them. Like a lot of things are.
Gally thinks of the ocean and rain and dying. He thinks of music and Jett in his bed.
Jett barely notices the slip. He just smiles at Gally, more genuine than ever before. It was the first time he'd ever truly smiled at the man, with no malice or ill intent. It makes something flutter behind a rib cage too small to hold Gally's swelling heart.
"I said that you're right, you asshole. But im not thanking you again. That was enough for one lifetime."
Gally is smiling still, thinking of days when he couldn't. A part of him wants to ruin this. He doesn't know what to do with this happiness. He's never had much experience with it, and now it's like he's drowning. He think about arguing with Jett, about anything, everything. Thinks of all the terrible comments he could make, rude jeers and hateful jabs. He hates Jett, loathes the boy. Feeling anything else is too much, like a fire licking his insides, lighting him like a furnace.
"It looks like something scratched you here." Jett observes, reaching out.
Galileo stiffens
Jett flicks at a tear in Gally's shirt, moving the flannel aside and peering at a shallow cut on his shoulder. A branch had hit him at work, he hadn't been paying attention. It's yet to heal completely.
For a moment, they both freeze.
Gally thinks again about hating Jett. Of seeing the boy out with Boyd and watching them with aggressive anger and jealousy, pure disdain exploding in his chest. He thinks of how he'd thought he'd been jealous of their happiness. He hates that he knows now it was because of Jett. He thinks about how Jett hates him, looks down at him and sneers with every sentence. Galileo thinks of hating Jett, hating him and his stupid face and his stupid fucking mouth and -
And that mouth is on his, again.
Jett kisses like this is a fight, and Gally kisses back like he is running out of time. Deep and slow but also urgent and wanting. Jett arches into Gally, he is terrible and this is sin. His tongue trails hotly over Gally's lower lip as he nips and bites and fucking kisses. Gally is aware of his hands entangled in Jett's stupid hair, fingers curling and grasping handfuls, running over the boys scalp, tugging and stroking. He kisses Jett.
Slow. Lazy. Languid.
Hard. Needing. Hateful
Gally brushes hair away from Jett's face with trembling fingers. His vision wobbles, edges blurring. He is afraid there will be darkness.
"Oh." Gally sighs.
Jett turns his face away, breathing. Its not heavy. He doesn't sound winded or anything. He's just breathing.
Gally likes the sound of it. He watches Jett's chest and shoulders, sees them rise and fall. A body he has no control over. He feels his own tense. He has no control over it, either, on most days.
"I'm sorry." Jett says. Its low. Soft. Gally wants to catch the words between their teeth, crush them before they have a chance to ruin this. Jett is warm, pressed against him as though they could be dancing. In his mind they are. He knows he's holding a sharp blade, standing on the edge of the abyss. "This was a mistake. I-"
Hurt.
Hurt stabs through Gally, deep and fast, arcing through him like a strike of lightning, damaging everything in its path. He'd forgotten what this felt like, so intense it cut off air.
Of course if was a mistake
(Boyd?) And tearful dark eyes. They should be blue. They aren't.
Jett. Jett crying. Jett drunk. Jett sobbing his heart out, Jett curled up asleep against Gally's chest.
Dancing and the ocean and drowning.
Galileo pulls away.
"I think its about high time you go." He says, and isn't surprised by the emptiness that follows.
Gally fucks a pretty boy the next night. He wants to go dancing but he's never been the type. His brain just likes the soothing rhythms. Instead he goes to a bar and gets piss drunk, picks up the first dark haired boy that catches his gaze. He's easy on the eyes. They are a shade of green Gally can see. He can't remember the boy's name already, but he'll do just fine.
He makes the prettiest noises.
Gally spends all his time teasing them out of him, deft fingers and experienced mouth moving on the warmth of his body. He is loud, and screams when he climazes. His eyes rolls back into his head. He is beautiful. Not like Jett, but still.
Galileo stretches out on the hotel bed and thinks of dancing.
The boy's mouth bobs on his cock.
His mind wanders. He thinks of Jett, swaying under the light of a well lit ballroom, the type he's only ever seen in movies. His hair is combed back, and his lips are pink. He starts to twirl and Gally is dizzy.
The boy wiggles his ass in time with the suckling of his lips, and Gally bites down on a whine. His body is not his. His body is somewhere else.
Dancing.
Floating
Drowning
Jett.
Jett stretched out and gasping, eyes fluttering open and shut in bliss as his hips rock to a rhythm only Gally is supposed to know. Boyd knows it, too.
Jett and his plump lips, eyes that are too dark, eyes Gally is desperate to truly see. Jett with his eyes on Gally, on Gally's body.
He seizes up as an orgasm takes hold of him, white for moment and fading out his vision. His body jolts awake. His mind jerks.
Or is it the other way around?
Gally comes, gasping and breathless.
"Oh." He says. "Oh."
Gally stops by Jett's room when he gets home, even though he already knows the boy isn't there. He doesn't know why he does it, but he steps inside. The room smells like Jett. It's more tidy than Gally would have suspected. He can't remember driving home, just knows where he ended up.
He has only been in here a handful of times, mostly just to finish arguments. Once Jett had invited him in. Gally had thought it was a joke, he'd refused. But before he left, Jett had reached out and ran slender fingers through his hair. The boy had paused over his gunshot scar, his touch feather light.
Gally shudders as he remembers it, how it felt. The damn thing is always either numb or aching. But in the seconds Jett had touched it, everything was warm.
He shouldn't be here, he knows.
Gally takes one last look around, frowning even as he thinks music. He knows the hollow in his chest is a byproduct of missing Jett, and he hates it.
His fingers tremble, so he clenches them into a fist.
The lines between love and hate are paper thin, and sometimes they disappear altogether. Gally has trouble understanding them. He struggles with them on his way out.
Jett isn't around when Gally gets up the next morning, either. Instead it's just Eustass he finds sitting in the kitchen. Thatcher evidently took Oleander and Malakai out for breakfast with Bellamy and his bunch. Eustass was dressed to go meet them by the time Galileo runs into him.
The alpha smiles. Gally just stares.
"Good morning, kid."
"Hey." Galileo fidgetts, toys with his fingers. He's never been alone with the alpha before, not really. This is the man everyone adores, the man who saved his life even though he wasn't asked to do so. "Have you seen Jett lately?"
Eustass immediately frowns at him, arms crossing almost defensively over his chest. The man was protective of Jett. Gally knew, as did everyone else.
"He's been over at Vitaly's for a while, worrying about Boyd." Eustass sizes him up, dark eyes piercing straight through Gally. The man is fiercely protective over the people he loves.
How can they love him?
"Oh. Well alrighty, then."
Gally backs down, moves to leave the room altogether. He doesn't like Eustass glaring at him as though he's some criminal out to hurt Jett. He doesn't like Eustass much at all.
"Wait." The alpha calls after him, the command grounding Gally in place. He bounces back and forth on the heels of his feet, hands flexing at his side. He doesn't know what he's doing here.
Something pricks behind his eyes. Something pricks
"Don't go looking for him. Okay? He's been fine these past few days." He speaks as though he knows Gally would ruin the peace, standing tall and broad. "And I don't think he'd want to see you. I mean....You guys don't seem to get along ya."
Of course. Everyone knows how they can't stand each other. Gally can only imagine what Jett's told Eustass about his hatred. Of course the boy wouldn't want to see him.
Something big aches behind Galileo's ribcage.
"I got it boss. But uh, I should be gettin' on outta here. I have work."
Gally can feel the heat of Eustass's eyes on his back as turns to leave. Its raining outside, light droplets against burning skin. He sticks his tongue out absently, catches a drop that rolls into the back of his mouth and tastes like earth.
He thinks of kissing Jett.
Every taste in his mouth.
Coffee, bitter as fuck, black. Scalding sips over a simple kitchen counter.
Cupcakes. Cookies. Whatever he baked that day. A fingertip of icing sugar on his tongue and Jett's dark eyes, his wide teasing grin.
Sticky fingertips digging into the back of his neck.
Nails. chewed on from either nerves or irritation, on small hands, fingers Gally knows like a map. A map he can trace in darkness.
He thinks of dancing.
Galileo opens his eyes.
There are bright lights and strobes, upbeat music and people dancing. His head aches in time with the beat. Girls dressed in shades of pastel, with soft skin and plump lips. Gally imagines that kissing them would be like eating sugar cubes, sweetness dissolving on his tongue. Boys twirl about, dressed sleek and moving with grace. Some of them have glitter brushed across their eyelids.
It's a nice place to be. Malakai loves to drag him here for dances. The atmosphere is soft and warm. The people are lovely.
Galileo likes the music.
There's a giggle a his side. Two young boys brush past him on their way to the dance floor, their bodies swaying awkwardly to the beat. They seem to step on each others toes, so caught up in the rhythm they don't notice. Or maybe they're caught up in each other, hands tangled in hands. Their foreheads bump, and they kiss. It's clumsy and passionate and there's so much love.
Gally tries not to stare for too long. Tries even harder not to think of Jett.
He fails.
Eventually he manages to move on, slipping through the crowd in search of Malakai.
He finds the boy sitting at the bar, an attractive man to his right. It was obvious just with how the guy was leaning in that he was attempting to coax Malakai into a dance, or maybe even something more. Mal seemed to be enjoying the attention. Gally strolled up to the pair and took a seat on Malakai's left. If there was a problem, it wouldn't last long. Galileo may be short be he was wildly intimidating. And his hands were easily strong enough to snap bone. On the nights they went out together, Gally acted as a personal bodyguard.
"Howdy. I see you done found yourself a possible suitor. How's this one treatin' ya?" Gally orders himself a drink, bourbon on the rocks. He aims to stop the aching in his temples, drink until he forgets all about Jett Jones.
He's never managed it before, but that never stops him from trying.
"He's treating me just fine, actually. He was just asking to take me dancing." The boy is nursing a brightly colored cocktail in his hands, not the strongest drink but very fruity and sweet. "What about you, Gally? Aren't you up for a little dancing?"
Gally smirks, his gaze flickering out to the crowd. He can still see that young couple, twisting and turning together.
"Nah, not really doll. I ain't done that in so long I ain't sure i'd remember how." It was laughable, how awkwardly he bobbed to the music nowadays. No one besides Malakai had ever witnessed it.
Gally loved to dance though, even if he did have two left feet. He hasn't danced since his mother died, says he doesn't like to. It's an easy lie to tell. Maybe not always, and not to everyone, but its easy to lie to Malakai. At least right now, while the boy is blissed out by whatever was in the fruity cocktail. Gally will have to stick with him for the rest of the night, make sure no one tries anything that's sure to get them killed.
"Is this the same fella you were talkin' about yesterday? He's a tall glass of wine, ain't he?"
Malakai fixes him with a disapproving frown. Even through the haze, it seems he can tell somethings wrong.
"Come on Gally. We both know I hate it when you try to change the subject. It's like you're insulting me. Like I don't already know how sick and twisty you are." The boy rolls his eyes, annoyingly perceptive.
"Listen, I ain't-"
"It's something to do with Jett, isn't it?" Malakai asks, almost sourly, and Gally feels his stomach do a flip. "I fucking knew it. Galileo, how in the hell do you hate the guy so much, but spend all your free time thinking about him? Jesus, he can't stand you either. I don't understand you sometimes."
Malakai pats his shoulder, orders him another drink.
"Well I don't remember askin' for you to understand. Just listen to me bitch." Despite the words, his voice is low and brooding. He feels the ache behind his eyelids intensify, drowning his vision in black nothingness. Gally ignores it, at this point so used to the occurrence that he knows to simply sit back and wait for it to pass.
"And I ain't mopin'." He finished the next drink, focuses on the burning liquid as it slides easily down his throat.
Malakai persists. "Come and dance with us."
Galileo's lower lip trembles. He imagines Jett where Malakai is, soft slender fingers and eyes blazing. His lashes are long, fluttering.
He imagines Jett, and it makes him want to dance.
"Okay."
He remembers driving home, and putting Malakai in his bed. It was late enough that everyone else had gone to bed. He'd stumbled down the hallway, and tripped at Jett's door. The boy still wasn't home, so Gally remembers laying there, until at some point Thatcher came out and found him. His brain stores every memory of Thatcher. The man pulled his boots off for him, and put him in bed, even taking the time to pull the blanket up around his shoulders. He remembers thinking about his mother, thinking about how Thatcher was everything he'd always wanted but never had.
Maybe he'd said that.
Maybe not.
Gally doesn't remember going to sleep. Just knows that eventually he falls into darkness.
Early the next morning, someone is knocking at his door. Gally doesn't jolt away immediately. He doesn't jolt awake at all. Instead his eyes flutter, but his mind is still millions of miles away, some place his body is not, floating in an ocean surrounded by sharks.
Panic seizes the part of him still conscious. For a moment he thinks he's drowning.
The knock is louder now.
"Wait! Sonofva bitch, wait!" Gally almost screams through gritted teeth. Whoever's outside falls silent.
Galileo remembers legs, they are weak and he stumbles onto them. The numbness shoots straight through, a sharp explosion of pain behind his eyes awakening every muscle in his body. He curses.
A headache is pounding in his temples too now. He is dizzy, and he's hungover. He's still wearing the flannel shirt he'd worn to work the other morning and his hair is matted on the left from where he'd slept on it.
"The door ain't locked." He says, bleary. He's still struggling to get there.
Whoever's behind the door pauses.
Galileo hates silence. It's so easy to fill, but he's too tired.
He reached for the knob. It seems so far, swimming in and out of his vision.
It twists before his trembling fingers can reach. The door swings open.
"Oh....It's you." Gally says, and promptly blacks out.
There is a burst of noise. Noise, and colour. These are two things Gally's world seems to lack right now.
Two things he always associates with Jett.
There are fingers on his face, soft and slender. Like a memory Gally can't quite grasp.
Skin remembers skin.
The fingers are gentle and warm, attached to palms resting against his cheeks. Gally thinks of glitter and music and dancing.
He thinks of floating and drowning and dying.
"Jones?" He says.
The fingers on his face freeze.
No, that's not the right word. His brain rejects it.
Freezing indicated being cold. Jett is not cold. He is like a furnace of pure anger and aggression. His loud mouth always blazing and dangerous. He can't seem to keep anything to himself, likes to let Gally know exactly what's on his mind.
Galileo is cold.
"Leo?"
The sound is almost soothing, washing over him. Warm. Soft. Like ocean waves. He remembers the tide, washing him to shore.
He was dead weight in the ocean. Dead weight. That's all he is now. All he'll ever be.
Gally's ear gives a funny throb.
He can see, He chooses not to. He knows this is bad, but he lets himself enjoy it anyways. He likes the colours dancing behind his eyelids, colors he's memorized, can hold onto. He knows the soft lines of Jett's face by heart, and he chooses Jett, even though he shouldn't. Even though he knows it's going to hurt.
"What in the hell is happenin' here? Did I miss somethin'?" Gally mumbles, suddenly confused by the intimacy. Jett's been gone for days now.
The boy moves in.
There's heat. So much heat. It's burning away at his insides and licking his ribcage, burning everything that isn't numb. His mind heaves, for once anchored to his body, in this instance of reality, instead of wandering to other places and times. It does not let this go. He does not let go.
He will not let go.
That had been Boyd's problem, Gally's figured out. He let go too easy. He should have fought harder.
Gally is no stranger to a fight.
Jett is kissing him. It's a hateful thing, but somehow its soft and warm and Jett's mouth opens when Gally licks at his lower lip.
Gally loves it.
Gally hates it.
Jett shudders when Gally's hands start to roam, tangling themselves in the boys thin shirt and pushing it up. Gally rakes his teeth over Jett's collar bone with so much force he leaves raw and aching skin in his wake.
Jett groans, and surges forward.
"Missed me, huh?" The boy is grinning. Gally wants to knock the smile clean off his face.
God, he never wants it to leave.
"I wouldn't go sayin' that." Gally huffs, teeth finding a spot between Jett's jaw and neck that makes the smaller boy squirm. "It's been pretty damn suitable, not havin' you 'round to bitch everytime I turn a corner."
"I fucking hate you, leo."
Jett's fingers rake over his skin, leaving angry red lines that fade into white. Gally groans at the sting of it, and sinks deeper into the kiss. It's still just as gentle, just as hard. They are still testing the waters of whatever it was their relationship had reached.
Hate, Gally decides. Hate, and-
Love?
"Hey." Jett says. Gally blinks up at him.
He is somehow shirtless now. Gally doesn't remember when that happened, but Jett is straddling his lap so it doesn't matter. The boys mouth is pink and hanging open just a little. His hair is brushed to the side, falling over skin.
"Hey."
"Hey." Jett kisses him. Galileo wants to shove him away, knock him on his pretty little ass. Knock him senseless. Maybe knock himself out.
Gally wants to see Jett fall apart. Except he doesn't.
Gally wishes he could find some way to put himself back together. He wants to.
"Hey." Jett's hands find either side of his face. Dark eyes peer down at him, curious and hesitant and maybe even tender.
Maybe even concerned.
They should be blue. Gally wishes he could see that they are blue.
"Leo?"
Something wells up in his throat. He's breathing Jett's air. There are warm fingers on his cheeks, brushing gently at his temples, fingertips light and soft as they graze the place a bullet had landed.
"I missed you." Gally hears himself saying. His tongue is his. This body is his.
Why is it that he only feels this way with Jett? Why couldn't it have been anyone, anything else?
Jett's mouth dips. Then it curves, so pretty. And he's kissing Gally again. This time Galileo doesn't mistake the knot in his stomach for nerves, or the blood rushing from his head down south for irritation. He's tired of trying to lie to himself. He wants this.
This time Galileo is certain of what he wants how, and when.
He closes the gap between their bodies with only his own.
Gally reaches up to remove Jett's shirt from around his neck, kisses and licks every inch of exposed skin. It burns hot under his tongue. Jett arches and whines, keens and croons for him. Gally lets his hands roam over the boys body, eliciting shudders and low, growling noises out of his throat, his chest.
"Leo." He keeps saying. Like his name means something. Like he means something. Like he's someone that should mean something.
"I hate you." Gally growls. Jett shudders, nips at his neck in an expression of aggression. Need.
"I know. Gally, Leo, fuck, Leo."
"You're gonna be so good for me, aren't you? You're gonn' be such a good boy for me. Take my cock like a fucking angel. But we don't want to wake Eustass and Thatcher now, do we? Fucking hell, I hate so much you. Fuck, I-"
Galileo takes Jett's earlobe into his mouth, between his warm lips. and the boy bucks wantingly. He's trembling. Galileo has a hand on Jett's thigh and that's shaking, too.
Jett's eyes are open wide, his cheeks flushed pink, head thrown back and hair sticking to his face. Jett is beautiful.
"Leo-"
"Hush." Gally grunts, still nibbling on Jett's ear. And next goes Jett's belt.
Jett goes extremely still when Gally hooks strong fingers through the waistband of his jeans, tugging him closer. Galileo gives his ear one last hungry nip and draws away. Their eyes catch.
They stare at each other.
It's so intense Gally feels as though he's burning.
He almost laughs at how nostalgic this is. Then he is all seriousness again, fingers brushing over every bit of exposed skin he could reach, the soft curve where Jett's back meets his hips, a perfectly sculpted ass. A shiver runs down Jett's spine.
"Are you gon' be quite, Jones?"
Silence. Gally hates silence.
And then Jett opens his mouth, but just barely.
"Jett." Jett's fangs are practically buried in his bottom lip. He looks at Galileo and Galileo wants to take him apart. "Please, I- just call me Jett."
Gally snorts. "Are you gon' be quiet," He draws each word out, long and measured, and Jett's teeth dig in just little deeper. "-Jett?" Gally's fingers dip down, and Jett nods, a little bit breathless, rocking his hips into the mattress. Into Galileo. He decides he likes Jett like this.
Silent.
His.
"Good boy."
Galileo tugs, and Jett's boxers come away. He takes a moment to savor this, the exposure, how easy it is to render Jett speechless.
So much for that big mouth.
"Leo-"
"Shhh."
He's already half hard, Jett. precome glistening along the head of his dick. Gally cocks his head and looks at him, wondering what it would be like to just up and leave. Leave Jett alone like this, naked and humiliated. The thought goes to his cock, too, and he bites back a noise.
"I wanna-" Jett breaks away. He's actually shaking, thighs trembling in a way that makes Gally a little concerned. But only a little.
"Tell me, darlin'. What is it you want?"
Galileo's nose brushes Jett's face gently. He feels the smaller mans chest rise and fall beneath his. He catches wrists smaller than his, interlaces fingers through those longer, softer.
It dawns on him that he could break Jett like this. Turn him over and fuck him until he screams, deny his orgasm and shove him out into the cold, half dressed. Part of him aches to do that. To end this. Whatever this is.
"I want you to fuck me."
Galileo blinks.
His mind is far, far away from the ocean and music and dancing.
"Is that what you want sugar? You want me to fuck you, Jett? You want my cock, do ya? Want me to be inside you, filling you up and fucking till you can't sit down for a week. Til' I got you screaming and begging for it. Until you can't think of anything but me. Is that what you want?" The words came punctuated by a snap of his hips as he grinds down onto Jett's bare hardness, and the boy whines.
"Shh, now. You promised me you'd be quiet, darlin'."
Jett seems to struggle with it for a moment, mouth opening and closing to catch his breath.
"Please." He says. "Leo, please. Fuck me."
And who is Galileo to say no to a beautiful boy who begs so nicely.
As it turns out, Jett is not good at keeping his word.
Galileo brushes his finger around the smaller beta hole and he bucks, thighs quivering. A small, needy noise escapes his throat. Gally's mind snags on a peculiar thought.
He does it before thinking, curious. His hand comes down hard over Jett's right ass cheek, earning another whimper and then almost complete stillness.
He feels a rush of warmth, moving south and settling in his groin.
"Of course you'd get off on that, huh darlin'?"
"I fucking - God I hate you!"
"Be good boy for me." Gally hums, coating his fingers with generous amounts of lube from his nightstand. He realizes then that maybe he doesn't want to hurt Jett as much as he thought.
Jett watches him, body trembling with anticipation.
This is him. This is Gally, taking him apart bit by bit, watching Jett tremble and shake and beg, curse and whine, scrape at his feet. Brick by brick, he will tear down everything Jett believes he is, collapse his structure.
Galileo slips the first finger in, and Jett's body goes very still.
"Good boy."
"Fuck, L-Leo." Jett's voice is low and quivering. He sounds as if he wants to say more, maybe whine for more. There's no need. Galileo is already twisting his finger in the wet heat, biting back a groan as it tightens so well around him. Jett seizes up, full on shaking. He whines, and Gally feels blood pooling in his stomach. His fingers are prodding and swirling, carefully opening Jett up and getting him nice and loose.
"Oh, Leo. Fuck."
Another hard smack across the ass, and Jett breaks away into whimpers. He claws at the mattress, hands fisting the sheets.
"Friendly reminder," Galileo pushes a second digit in, satisfied with Jett's desperate whine. "That I told you to be quiet, Jett." The name tastes like fire on his tongue. He wants to say it again, experimental.
Instead he uses he fangs, scraps them over Jett's back, bare skin that is burning under his touch. Jett buries his head into the pillows. Gally thinks he hears the boy sob.
Oh. Oh. Galileo has never been so far away from dancing. His blood rushes hot. His pulse is racing. He can't hear over the pounding in his ears.
Gally presses kisses along the boy's spine, pausing when he reaches the curve of Jett's ass. He bites, sinks his fangs into tender flesh. His fingers are pushing and kneading. He is in awe of every inch of skin Jett lets him take in his hands and worship. Gally spreads the boys ass with his free hand and slaps him again, the sound echoing in open space.
Jett makes a noise that sounds like it wants to be Gally's name, and bucks again.
"Fuck you're beautiful. So damn beautiful, Jett. So good for me." Gally sinks a third finger in, down to the knuck. Jett doesn't seem capable of making coherent noises anymore. His face is buried in the pillows, his body twisting, hips rocking desperately, hair matted, a mess. Galileo can only imagine how hard he is, pressed against the mattress by Gally's weight. "Look at you, darlin'. You're gorgeous."
"Leo, fucking hurry. Damn- Oh - damnit Gal-"
The sound Jett makes when he doesn't finish Gally's name is nothing short of beautiful, and it rushes straight to Galileo's cock. It twitches, straining against his pants.
"Darlin'," Gally grunts, massaging around the spot. Jett moans, a filthy sound that makes Galileo's free hand fly to his dick. "You gotta be more patient. Ya know, you got this habit of rushing into things-"
"I can take it." Jett is shaking so much he might be having a seizure. Galileo slaps him on the ass again and he whimpers, spreads his legs in a way so obscene it should be illegal.
"I can. Gally- Leo, fuck, I can t-take it. Fuck me, fuck me already!"
Warmth, exploding and expanding in his chest. Something that bites.
He exhales shakily and smacks Jett's ass again, watches dazed by how his cheeks shake with the pressure. His fingertips, red and angry, lie printed in the rosy skin.
"Just a minute."
Jett thinks better than to push with Gally in this position of power. He falls silent, only except the occasional desperate whine as Gally brushes his fingers across Jett's prostate again. Galileo watches his back tremble, watches the lines of Jett's body rise and fall to meet his fingers.
Gally grabs the curve of Jett's ass and grinds into it.
Jett must be painfully hard by now. Should be. Gally thinks of his cock, pressed roughly into the cold sheets. Maybe it's trapped between his belly and the mattress, leaking with unadulterated longing , and stiff, not much different from his own.
Gally's hands fly to his zipper, and he works his dick out as quickly as he can. It's almost painful.
Jett groans when Gally lets his cock fall between quivering ass cheeks, trailing it over his wet pink entrance. Galileo slaps it against Jett's beautiful pink hole. and shudders at the sound it makes.
"If you ain't gon' be quiet. I ain't gon' fuck you."
Thats a lie. Gally would fuck him anyways, but he likes to see Jett squirm.
He seizes a fistful of the boys hair, and Jett jerks upright, body rising to meet him. Still Gally teases, moves his dick along the side of Jett's entrance, touching but never really giving into to what Jett so desperately wants. The smaller beta is almost crying for release, but he can do nothing about it.
This is Jett Jones. This is the man Galileo loathes.
"You want me to fuck you sugar? Stop whining." Gally curls his fingers in Jett's hair. it's soft. Jett's body is a work of art beneath him, in all it's beauty, a shrine built for worshipping. "Beg. Do it like you mean it. You want my cock, don't you darlin?"
Silence. Galileo thinks about slapping his ass again.
"Please." Jett grits out, and it's soft and raw and broken. "Please, Leo. Pl-Please fuck me."
Gally groans, slaps him over the ass again. Jett chokes on what sounds like a sob, his body rocking in reaction to the sting, the humiliation. Galileo is rock hard and leaking against Jett's pucker and its killing him. Jett is killing him.
"Tell me pretty boy, what is it you call the alpha man, hmm? Do you call him daddy? I bet you'd have more respect if it were him fucking you."
Jett writhes and wiggles, shakes his head no in an explosion of fury and indignation. He wants to argue but his throat is dry. He wants this so bad. He wants Gally so bad.
"S-Sir."
"I'm sorry?" Galileo pulls his fingers out, and Jett's body shakes. He instantly misses the prodding warmth. He coats his dock with lubricant, massages it slowly.
The high whine Jett makes when he recognises the sound is satisfying.
"I call him sir." Jett whispers. He sounds embarrassed, scalding with humiliation.
Galileo is a sick, sick man, and he loves it.
He reaches for Jett's discarded shirt, slipping it back over the boy's head, a makeshift collar. "Good boy. I wonder if you'd still beg me for it." He grins, tugging until Jett has to tilt his head backwards, a long pale neck and bare skin. "If I asked you to call me 'sir.'"
There's a small, sharp stuttering of breath, and then Jett's head drops forward when Galileo let's go of the shirt.
"Please fuck me." Jett says, quiet. "S-Sir."
Gally savors it for a moment.
Then he grins, wicked.
"I think I might like it when you call me that. In fact, I like holdin' you down like this, hearing you whine like a needy bitch. Shows you got a speck of respect in those bones after all, huh? Such a pretty ass you got. I have a good mind to just lick you open all nice and wet. Leave you here, rock hard, while I touch myself and come all over you. Bet you'd like that too, you little shit." He grabs the shirt again and Jett twists his head around, opens his mouth as if to say something, a protest-
"One word outta you darlin', and i'm trussin' you up like a chicken an' leavin' you here. Naked. Humiliated. You wont even get to touch yourself. Maybe daddy dearest will find you, all desperate and needy like this."
Jett's dark eyes harden into a hateful glare.
Gally smiles back, cheeky.
"Be a good boy for me." He says, and stuffs the shirt into Jett's mouth.
Gally slides in slowly. Its torture, but after a while it gets satisfying as more choked noises tear their way from Jett's throat. The boy is clawing at the sheets.
Jett's body shakes, and he clenches and Gally at first, which only further blurs the lines between pain and pleasure.
"Loosen up, sweetheart." He says, in a voice so gentle he doesn't recognise it. "Jus' for me. There's a good boy. I don't wanna hurt you, Jett." He thought he did. Sometimes he still does. But right here, right now, Gally honest to god doesn't want that.
Jett's hands reach back, and then he's parting his ass cheeks for Gally, trembling with every bit of his being. They are both invested in this, straining for release.
Jett makes a keen whine through the shirt when Gally finally slides in fully, and that's all it takes.
With every thrust Jett shudders. He screams through the shirt, fingers clawing desperately to latch onto something, anything, but his palms are slippery and they come undone. Galileo looks down at his beautiful writhing body, and loves it.
He hates that he loves it, sinks his claws into tender flesh on Jett's shoulder and scratches his way down to the boys hips, leaves angry red lines. He pushes in a little deeper, thrusts a little harder, trying to coax the reactions he wants.
For once he isn't disappointed.
Jett is rutting into the couch and holy fuck, it shouldn't be this hot but it is. Galileo allows only a split second in between thrusts, hard, fast, rough. He's cursing and groaning, all at once, cock buried deep inside Jett's pretty little pucker. His thighs bracket Jett's body, and they ache.
At some point the shirt falls out of Jett's mouth and he does nothing but sob, shrieking into the pillows. He makes to grab for his probably aching cock, but Galileo slaps his hands away, pinches the inside of his thigh insides. Jett lets out a high whine, falling back. He can do nothing but take it, still crying for more.
"Sir," He cries between vicious thrusts, "Sir, sir, fucking fuck-"
"So good for me. Come on, Jett. Come on."
Jett whines, higher, desperate. "Sir- Oh fuck- I can't!"
The boy tightens around Gally's dick, and this time Galileo cries out, his vision whitening to nothingness as orgasm rips through him.
He pulls out, sweaty and wrecked. Jett is lying on his belly, Gally can hear him crying softly. Come glistens down his thighs, over his back. Galileo feels his dick throb as he looks at it, commits it to memory.
"C'mere." He says, carefully flipping Jett over. The smaller beta whines, twists in his arms. His cock is still erect and aching. Gally traps it between their bodies, rocks Jett slowly on his lap.
"Well look at you. Look at you, darlin'. So beautiful for me. So damn good."
Jett sobs almost hatefully, his chest heaving. Gally sinks to his knees so fast he might have rug burn.
"Do you want me to get you off? Huh sweetheart? You'd like that, wouldn't you. Me sucking your dick. " Gally takes Jett roughly in his hand. "Get you nice and wet for me. Let you fuck my mouth." He licks his lips to prove a point, and Jett swallows, falls back with hands on either side of his hips, balancing his weight.
He looks almost distraught.
"How do I know you aren't just fucking around?"
Galileo looks up a him. He can see Jett's dark eyes, tired and perhaps even afraid. He wonders what they really look like, wants to see the color his brain forgot.
He glances down and sees the shirt still hanging around Jett's neck, a wet patch where the boys mouth had been. Galileo puts a strong hand on Jett's thigh, ears a wanting shudder. He kisses the inside of it, gently, slow. A soft trail that makes Jett tremble, lips falling apart ever so slightly.
"Leo-"
"Hush." Galileo responds, and takes Jett's cock into his mouth.
He uses his tongue, mostly. Swirling and licking up and down the shaft. He smacks is lips when he pulls away, making the most obscene noises. He does it just to see Jett squirm. Gally takes the boys balls in one hand, the smaller beta jerks, whining and writhing as Gally's other hand roams free about his body.
"Oh! Fuck!" He cries when Galileo slips a finger into his aching entrance, still dripping with the mans release. "Oh I-"
Galileo finds his prostate quickly, his stupid brain having memorized its place. Jett is screaming now, unintelligible swears that die off to nothingness. He tries for Gally's name but his voice breaks over the syllables. The boys toes curl, and Galileo would be lying if he said Jett wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.
A hard thrust of his fingers, Gally swallows around Jett's dick, and with a desperate cry the boy shoots down his throat, voice raw and bleeding with pent up sexual frustration.
Galileo licks his lips.
He feels numb. His head is spinning. He just got down onto his knees and sucked Jett jones's dick.
Somehow he doesn't hate himself for it.
His mind is here. His body is here. Gally is at peace with his body and his body is telling him to kiss Jett Jones. not stop until they're both breathless and sweaty, sticky and disgusting, and even then still keep on kissing him.
Jett looks at him with large, wet eyes. His chest rises and falls erratically. He has tear stains on his cheeks, and raw red marks down the length of his body.
"Hey," Gally says.
"Hey."
Galileo sinks down next to him, and if he reaches for Jett and pulls the boy close, breathes in the scent of sex and sweet shampoo, no one needs to know. Jett's heavy breathing turns into soft snores, and even though it takes Gally a little longer to fall asleep, he does so with a soft sort of peace he hasn't ever known until now.
When Galileo wakes up, Jett is not pressed into his side. Jett is not on the bed at all. This does not worry Gally. Not a bit.
Because Jett is, instead, sitting on a nearby beanbag chair with a mug of what smells like coffee. There's an imprint on his face from where he slept on his side, curled around Gally like a human blanket. His dark eyes are still bleary with sleep, hair matted to the side of his head.
It shouldn't be adorable, but it is.
Galileo stands, wincing, and slowly makes his way over. Jett eyes catch his. They hold.
"Good morning."
"Mornin'."
A pause.
Maybe this would turn out like this kiss. Maybe they'd go back to not speaking and their separate lives. Maybe Gally would go get drunk off his ass in some bar and sleep with some person he doesn't want. Maybe he'd realize that there are better people than someone who actively loathes him.
"Leo," Jett says, staring at the mug instead of Gally, watches as steam wafts from it. "I uh, I don't think I was very clear with what I wanted last time."
Galileo stares. His head aches.
"Yeah. Yeah, no, you weren't."
Galileo can feel something breaking inside of him. He shoves it away. Buries it deep. Of course this is just another mistake. Of course Jett would want nothing to do with him. Anxiety claws at his chest, something tightens around his neck.
He realizes belatedly that Jett is wearing his clothes again.
The boy sees him looking.
"Sorry. My shirts pretty wrecked."
Galileo waves him off. "It's fine." He reaches out. His brain does it without his consent. He smoothes out the wrinkles in an old shirt, too big for the body it hangs off of. "You look good like that, in my clothes. A hell of a lot better than all that black mess you wear, like you're always ready for a funeral."
Probably his.
Jett stares, brow furrowing.
"You're fucking terrible, you know that? At least I don't fucking dress like some redneck lumberjack."
"Well hell, i'm going to take that," Galileo is already smiling, amused. "As a compliment."
Jett just looks at him. Gally wants to kiss him. Gally wants to-
Hate him. He's always wanted to hate him. Wants to tear him down and knock him the fuck out, destroy him completely.
"I want to kiss you." He hadn't meant to say it, but he did.
Silence. Gally cant fucking stand silence.
Jett moves and catches Gally's attention. He puts his mug down, steps in closer. His jaw tightens as he lifts his nose to brush against Gally's.
"Do it, then."
His voice trembles.
"Are you going to leave, after I do?" Galileo doesn't recognise his own voice. Maybe it's shattered, too. He isn't thinking. He grabs Jett's coffee with a ferocity that scares himself and it hits hard. Black. Strong. Bitter. Jett's eyes follow him. "Because if so, i'm not gonn' touch you at all."
Jett's voice is quiet. "You don't give a flying fuck about me. So why do you care?"
Gally thinks of broken glass. Broken ribs. Same thing.
He stares at Jett, at this man, small and vulnerable and his destruction. His lip curls, and he can't stop it from happening. He's already regretting what he'll say before it leaves his mouth.
"I don't." He says, short and sharp and cutting.
He thinks of Jett's pale body, beautiful and quivering beneath him-
and the handle breaks in his hands. The mug falls to the ground, shatters. Pieces scattered across the floor.
"Leave, Jones."
The boy arches a brow, startled. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Just fucking go. Leave."
"Leo-"
"Stop fuckin' callin' me that." He snaps, stares at the broken glass. His mind floats into oblivion. Something ignites in his chest. "You ain't my friend, Jones. I'm not gonn' start wantin' to hang out with you an' your bullshit problems just because we fucked. Once."
"Maybe I want that." Jett grabs his arm, tight. Galileo's gaze darts upwards, surprise catching in his throat.
"I told you to-"
"You took care of me." Jett says, soft and gentle and god, Gally hates that he can be so soft and gentle when only hours ago he was screaming into the pillows for Gally to keep going, harder, harder, calling him sir and getting him off. "When Boyd overdosed...When he did that, I don't think I could have survived it without you. You don't know what it was like going up to that hospital and staring his mom in the face. " Jett already blamed himself. Vitaly made it no secret that he blamed Jett, too.
"I've met Boyd's mom."
Jett shakes his head. "Not like me you haven't. Vitaly hates me for hurting Boyd and I really don't blame him. I hate me, too."
Gally snorts. "Well that makes three of us, I reckon."
Jett lets his hand fall back to his side.
"Look, I ain't a therapist Jones and you seem to need one." Galileo runs shaky fingers through his hair, tries to think. His head hurts. "And im a pretty shitty listener. I don't know about your relationship with Boyd or Vitaly. I don't want to. It ain't none of my business."
Jett doesn't back down. Instead, he shocks gally into silence.
"I like you."
Jett says this, and Gally feels suddenly dizzy.
This is uncalled for. Jett is changing their game and Gally doesn't know how to play anymore.
Jett isn't supposed to like him. Jett hates him. And he hates Jett. The entire pack knows it by now, enough to try and avoid having them in the same room at once. They are supposed to be nothing. Two matches burning each other out. Bad. Toxic. Jett can't like him. He couldn't.
"I didn't hold onto Boyd." Jett's eyes are distant. Gally recognizes the look in them all too well. "And I know I could have. I should have. He wouldn't need to hurt himself. I could've helped him."
Gally shakes his head. "That's a load of bullshit. And it has nothing to do with me."
He thinks of the ocean, rolling in the tides and sucking water into his lungs. He thinks of drowning.
"I said I like you." Jett's jaw is set. His lower lip juts out, almost a pout but not quite, almost trembling. But not quite. He almost looks like he's going to come forward and kiss Gally.
But not quite.
Gally finds he hates the word almost.
"I didn't hold onto Boyd. But maybe I can hold onto you."
" I ain't Boyd." Galileo says, bitter. The words are numb on his tongue. "I'm not some guy you can coddle or play nice with. I ain't some guy you can wrap around your finger and string along, plan a life with. I don't give a fuck about you, Jones."
He doesn't mean that. He wants to, but he doesn't.
As expected, Jett calls his bluff.
"Then why fuck me? Why humiliate me like that?"
Jett steps over the broken glass. Somehow Galileo doubts he would've felt anything even if he hadn't. This boy is the devil incarnate.
He is chest to chest with Gally now, his jaw set, challenging. "You said it yourself. You hate me. I hate you. I loathe you. That means you give a fuck. You want to use me, be used, humiliate me? Then be my guest. Hurt me, Leo. I want you to hurt me."
Galileo stares at him, dumbfounded. He's only now realizing how badly the situation with Boyd has fucked with Jett's head.
There is so much nothing in his chest it hurts. It feels like its expanding. Or maybe it's getting ready to cave. A black hole.
"No." He says.
Jett sags, exhausted. Like a balloon that's been pricked.
"I don't want to hurt you." Gally says, and finds that he means it. His hands twist themselves into the front of Jett's shirt-his shirt, really- and he holds them there, bunched up in soft fabric. "I want to help you, you stupid motherfucker. I'll tie you up and fuck you, call you names and use your pretty ass if you'd like-" Jett shudders under his hands. "But i'm not going to hurt you."
Jett hesitates, for once.
"You mean that?"
Warm. Soft. Gally moves his hands into Jett's hair, brushing it away from his face. He isn't used to touching like this, but he likes it. He aches for it.
Gally wants to hate him. He does.
He kisses jett's forehead, too warm and too soft. And he knows that he can't keep lying to himself.
