The Long Way Home

[Jay Carpenter]

Jay didn’t move when Nox leaned in. Not at first. He just stared, chest heaving, blood roaring in his ears like static. His pulse beat out of rhythm, fists twitching at his sides, barely held in check. And when Nox reached for him, gripped the front of his coat with those fingers he remembered far too well, Jay felt something in him snap.

Not break. Not shatter.

Snap.

And then Nox’s mouth was on his, and the world went white.

His mouth crashed into Nox’s in return, fierce and demanding. His hands were already moving. Gripping the sides of that absurd, puffy coat like it was a barricade he had every right to tear down.

His teeth caught Nox’s lip, not gently. A bite. A punishment. A reminder.

This wasn’t forgiveness.

It wasn’t peace.
It was a demand.

A dammit-you’re-a-stupid-son-of-a-bitch kiss.

Jay kissed like he fought. Hard, with his whole body. Like he didn’t know how to hold back. A low growl rumbled in his throat, one hand snapping down to grab the zipper of Nox’s coat, dragging it down with a force that rattled every tooth on the thing. The cold rushed between them for just a second, and then his palm was sliding beneath, across fabric, the splay of ribs, the flare of muscle. His arm looped around Nox’s waist and yanked him in, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, the kiss deepening into something bruising and raw.

He pressed him back against the railing with the full weight of his body, pinning him there. Not violently, but there was no mistaking who was in control.

Jay kissed like he needed to erase everything else. The months of silence, the rejection, the apology that didn’t land. It was all teeth and tongue and rough breath, and still, he didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

This wasn’t reunion.

It wasn’t romance.

It was a reckoning.

His thigh wedged between Nox’s legs, not shy, and Jay devoured the taste of him like he was trying to pull something out of his lungs. Like he was trying to find the answer to every unspoken question inside his mouth.

The railing groaned behind them, metal cold against Nox’s back. Jay didn’t care. It was a flimsy barrier between them and the edge of ruin. Who knew when it would fall away?

His fingers dug into skin beneath the coat. He wanted to feel him. All of him. Every breath, every tremble, every lie and truth and memory stitched beneath the surface.

He didn’t slow. Not yet.
There were no words.

Jay didn’t need them.

His kiss was a threat and a promise

He broke the kiss only for a second, forehead dropping to Nox’s, breath heaving between them. And then, without pause, he claimed his mouth again, harder this time. Rougher. Fiercer.

Desperate.

[Nox]

Nox was not in foreign territory, the slight tinge of violence. The need and desire to let Jay have his way. Nox resisted only enough to make it a challenge for Jay but not enough to be resistant to his manuevering. Though here was hardly the place to finish this. But Nox didn't interrupt he just followed the flow and flicked to a lust filled song Ashton had made. It wasn't passion. Just lust, desire and the need.

Their bodies pressed against the railing. It groaned against his back. He felt the cold icey bar against his back. And the heat on his front.

This was not the place. Nox bit Jay's lip to separate them a little. He wanted a little play, and a fight, Nox could provide some. Nox pulled away and dropped to his knees and looked up at Jay ready and willing. He whispered. "We can do this here. Or we can go someplace a little warmer." Nox didn't live too far from here. And he would bring Jay home. It didn't mean anything if he did, but he wasn't sure Jay would appreciate the company afterwards. There were always places to go. Places that knew him. Though he wasn't exactly sure what Jay wanted. Nox's fingers waited on Jay's waist band for Jay to respond with some indication of what he wanted.

[Jay Carpenter]

Jay felt the shift as Nox dropped to his knees.

The cold bled straight through his coat now, the railing biting like a warning. The metal beneath Nox’s hands, the way he looked up...  ready, open, offering. It should have snapped Jay out of it. Should have sent some pang of guilt or shame or anything.

But all Jay felt was heat.

Not lust, not really. Not love. Just… burn.
Burn behind his ribs.
Burn in his hand.
Burn in the places where silence had taken root and refused to be moved.

His fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to let it happen churning in the pit of his stomach like fire.

But then. Footsteps. A voice. Laughter, distantly slurred, approaching from down the path. Locals, probably. Some of the Carnival’s stragglers perhaps, half-high, fully oblivious. Jay’s body reacted before his brain could.

He pulled Nox up in a sharp, silent motion and murmured, voice low and threaded with breath:
“Warmer.”

No explanation. No apology.

He turned and started walking, returning into the neon fog of the Red Light District, the noise swelling again like a wave crashing around them and sweeping them asunder.

The lights blurred at the edges. The signs pulsed in too-perfect colors. VR dens, synth-shops, dispensaries glowing with digital flames. This part of the city always felt like it had a heartbeat: hot and wrong and thudding under the skin.

He didn’t look back to see if Nox followed. He just moved. 

His hand hurt again. Worse than before. The throbbing now had an edge. A pulse that cut sharper than the clench in his jaw. He flexed it once, twice. Fuck. Either the drug had worn off, or it was doing exactly what it was made to: make you crave another strip.

His eyes flicked down a nearby alley, where a blue-lit kiosk blinked slowly like it recognized him. He could grab another packet. Slide it under his tongue. Just float again. Not think. Not feel.

But he didn’t stop. Not yet.

Because Nox was behind him. And his body still hummed with adrenaline, and something that tasted like fury wearing desire’s clothes.

Jay told himself it wasn’t cheating. What was happening wasn’t Natalie’s. She was light, safety, home.

This was something else. This wasn’t emotion. This was reflex.
This was pressure and release.
A different part of him entirely.

Men, women. It didn’t matter. That was never what any of this was about.

It was about fire in his blood and silence in his skull. It was about not being alone in the one place he was always trying to survive.

He turned a corner, down another corridor of flickering red signage and steam curling from street vents. The city pulsed around him like something half-dead but still breathing.

This was where he belonged tonight.

Here.

With the ache in his hand.
And the ledge always waiting just a step away.