Work Text:
As a person who didn’t get touched much, you do grow to crave it.
The years I’d spent with sparse touch were a blur of memories in my head, melting together to form an amalgamation of sadness, ecstasy and just…disassociation. There were days where I spent the majority of my time just staring at walls. 6+ hours of nothing.
No talking, no drinking or eating. No human touch. No human company.
After I lost Alex, things just went downhill.
Anyone who pretends they could be fine by themselves is a liar. I mistakenly thought so too, I was ready to live a life without other people, all by myself. That is, until I started living like that. I didn’t wake up at normal times, my days typically started at around 10 at night, and after a fruitful day of lying in bed, or lying on the ground, (taking a few bites of bland uber-driven food if I was feeling up to it), I would go back to sleep at 8 ish in the morning.
Worst thing was, barely anyone cared. I’d pushed my mum away that many times that she didn’t check up on me, she knew not to. My sister didn’t care much for me because of the way I treated her-and to a further extent my whole family- before I left to go and live with Bryan. So I was completely and utterly alone.
Not anymore I guess.
I don’t think Jake even knows how much he’s done for me. He doesn’t seem to notice things like that. Some of my fans do, and there are plenty of comments saying things like “I’m so glad Johnnie’s better now”, and “it’s great that Johnnie found Jake”. And I agree. I still have my bad days, but Jake has helped me. Helped me keep a routine, helped me post videos regularly, helped me find friends.
I think I’ll always be grateful. Like literally forever. But even though he’s helped me astronomically emotionally, through literally just company, I think he may have helped me even more physically. After Alex, I began to associate touch with betrayal, with everything bad.
Sensitivity and patheticness.
Jake helped me change that. Gradually, his touch molded from something I shied away from, to something I actively seeked out. Like tonight, where I’m lying tucked into the crook of his body, my head nestled in his shoulder, and one of my legs thrown over both of his.
I’m matching my breathing with his, purely because it’s nice to have someone else to breathe for. Gratifying, I guess. These might be my favorite moments. More so even than the ones we’re melded together for, where he’s buried deep inside of me, shifting, moving and making me feel alive, so very alive. Only last night, i felt every part of my body stop in pure…joy? I’d been pissing him off, because i loved the way his face would contort from anger to laughter back to anger. Standing at the edge of the door acting like an annoying sibling, talking loudly without pause to get a rise out of him.
It worked.
Everything stopped the moment he crossed the room angrily and roughly pulled me into his arms, pinning me to the wall, and I was too shocked to have any reaction at all. My body went limp pressed against his, and there was no space between our faces for me to glance away, there was no thought in my brain other than cataloging the way Jake felt against me. I was standing-barely- but not even breathing but I felt awake, more awake than ever before, every fiber of my being felt scorching, and far too sensitive, far too tuned in on the way jake’s skin felt, how his hips pushed me harder into the wall, how his hands trapped mine at their sides.
I couldn’t even speak, to say something to diffuse the tension. I didn’t want to.
And then he was kissing me.
Deeply, desperately.
His hands trailed around my waist and he’s breathing so hard and he hoisted me up, into his arms, and my legs tentatively wrapped around his hips and he kissed my neck, my throat, and he set me down on the edge of his bed, the soft sheets overstimulating me. He had one hand under my neck, the other under my shirt and he ran his fingers up my back and suddenly his thigh was between my legs and his hand was slipping behind my knee and up, higher, pulling me closer, and when he broke the kiss I was breathing so fast, head spinning as I tried to hold on to him.
“Up,” he said, gasping for air.
“Lift your arms up.”
I did. He tugged up my shirt. Pulled it over my head. Tossed it to the floor.
“Lie back,” he said to me, still breathing hard, guiding me onto the table as his hands slid down my spine, under my backside.
He unbuttoned my jeans. Unzipped them. Said, “Lift your hips for me,” and hooked his fingers around the waist of my pants and my boxers at the same time.
Tugged them down. I gasped. I was lying on his bed in nothing. Nothing at all.
Then his hands were moving up my legs and the insides of my thighs and his lips were making their way down my chest, and he was undoing what little was left of my composure and every bit of my sanity and I was aching, everywhere, tasting colors and sounds I didn’t even know existed. My head was pressed back against the bed and my hands were gripping his shoulders and he was hot, everywhere, gentle and somehow so urgent, and I was trying not to shout and he was already moving down my body, he’d already chosen where to kiss me.
How to kiss me.
And he wasn't going to stop. I was beyond rational thought. Beyond words, beyond comprehensible ideas. Seconds had merged into minutes and hearts were collapsing and hands were grasping and I’d tripped over a planet and I didn’t know anything anymore, I didn’t know anything because nothing would ever be able to compare to this. Nothing would ever capture the way I had felt right then. Nothing mattered anymore.
Nothing but that moment and his mouth on my body, his hands on my skin, his kisses in brand-new places making me absolutely, certifiably insane. I cried out and clung to him, dying and somehow being brought back to life in the same moment, the same breath. He was on his knees. I bit back the moan caught in my throat just before he stood up. He was on top of me in an instant, kissing me with a kind of intensity that makes me wonder why I hadn’t died or caught on fire or woken up from that dream yet.
He was running his hands down my body only to bring them back up to my face and he kissed me once, twice, and his teeth caught my bottom lip for just a second and I was clinging to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and running my hands through his hair and pulling him into me. He tasted so sweet. So hot and so sweet and I kept trying to say his name but I couldn't even find the time to breathe, much less to say a single word. I shoved him up, off me. I ripped off his shirt, hands shaking and fumbling.
I hardly had a chance to push the fabric off his body before he pulled me into his lap. He wrapped my legs around his hips and dips me backward until the mattress is under my head and he leant over me, cupping my face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses around my mouth and he pulled me close and he kissed me, kissed me until time topples over and my head spins into oblivion.
It’s a heavy, unbelievable kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world. The kind that takes forever and no time at all. His hands are holding my cheeks, and he pulls back just to look me in the eye and his chest is heaving and he says, “I think,” he says, “I’m going to explode,” and I wish, more than ever, that I knew how to capture moments like these and revisit them forever.
Because that.
That was everything.
And now it’s him.
He’s my everything.