Jay emerged from his flat around 2:00 in the afternoon, when he finally noticed he hadn’t eaten anything yet. Bonfire Night had arrived faster than he expected; the days were flying by, not least because he was spending more than a few of them with Sebastian Moran.
His thoughts lingered on Moran as he ordered at the counter. From what Jay had heard, people who’d been in war zones tended not to enjoy fireworks all that much—especially when those fireworks were going off randomly in their neighbourhoods. Moran hadn’t said anything about it, but their relationship (for lack of a better word) wasn’t exactly at the trauma-sharing stage. Mostly it involved grabbing a drink together, or something to eat, and then a quick withdrawal to one of their flats so they could shag each others’ brains out.
Jay fiddled with his phone while he ate; he’d pulled up his text thread with Moran, fingers hovering over the screen. It felt … intrusive, somehow, to ask if he needed help getting through the evening. Maybe he didn’t—maybe he’d prefer to be alone, and Jay’s presence would hurt more than it would help.
Fuck it. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jay dashed off a quick text:
Plans tonight?
After a minute or two, his phone buzzed with Moran’s reply:
Not really
Want me to come over?
There. Vague enough to give Moran some plausible deniability; if he wanted to be alone, he’d say so.
Before Jay even had a chance to put the phone down, Moran’s reply came in:
God yes
Well. That settled that.
The fireworks hadn’t started by the time Jay arrived in Chelsea, but he spotted a few households setting up on the walk from the tube station. It was the usual pantomime, played out again and again: the overconfident father, the dubious mother, the kids either openly excited or feigning boredom. Every Bonfire Night had been the same, as far back as Jay could remember.
The memories ached, and he pushed them away.
As Jay approached Moran’s building, the door opened. Moran’s upstairs neighbour, Mrs. Holloway, was on her way out; she was one of those regal, well-appointed older women found not infrequently throughout London, and Jay was a bit terrified of her.
Mrs. Holloway recognised him, of course. They’d crossed paths a few times now, usually as Jay was performing the walk of shame after spending the night. Jay ignored her faintly disapproving look as he slipped past her into the corridor.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, and knocked on Moran’s door.
It opened almost immediately. Moran was dressed for a night in: a worn t-shirt with a hole under the collar and a pair of grey sweatpants. He was relaxed, and smiling, and obviously very pleased to see Jay.
“Hi,” he said, stepping aside slightly to welcome Jay inside.
“Hi,” Jay replied, and made his way down the hall to the sitting room. He dropped his laptop bag into one of the armchairs; he didn’t expect to get much use out of the computer tonight, but had figured it was best to have it on hand. Then Sebastian caught Jay’s face between his hands and kissed him.
Jay made a noise into Sebastian’s mouth—surprised, but not displeased—and clutched at his shoulders to steady them both. If this was the distraction Sebastian needed, Jay was happy to oblige. His lips moved enthusiastically against Sebastian’s, opening to let Sebastian’s tongue slip inside. The kiss was slow, unhurried; they had all night, after all.
Sebastian kept one hand on Jay’s face, thumb stroking along his cheek, while the other roamed down his back to palm at his arse; his touch was confident and familiar and yet still so careful not to go anywhere near Jay’s chest. Jay let his own hands wander, dragging his palms down Sebastian’s front, soaking up the solid warmth of his body through his thin shirt. He snuck his fingers up under the hem, teasing across bare skin; Sebastian sighed and leaned into the touch, mouth slipping from Jay’s lips to kiss at his jaw, down his neck.
Jay tipped his head to the side, thoroughly enjoying Sebastian’s attentions. He pushed his hands further up under Sebastian’s shirt to stroke his back, fingertips digging into toned, powerful muscle. Sebastian hummed into Jay’s shoulder and pulled away, but only to tug his shirt off over his head and toss it aside. Jay leaned in immediately to kiss at his throat, his collarbone, tasting the light sweat gathering on his skin.
But there was only so much of what Jay wanted to do to him that could be done standing, so he grabbed Sebastian by the arms and steered him down onto the sofa.
It was an old Victorian-style sofa which Jay had so far found less than conducive to shagging on, but Sebastian’s bed was all the way down the hall and Jay wanted to keep touching him now. Sebastian made a noise of mild protest and struggled to find a comfortable position as Jay climbed over him; eventually he managed to recline against one of the arms, bracing a foot on the floor while the rest of him sprawled along the length of the sofa. Jay picked up where he’d left off—dragging his lips and tongue over the lines of Sebastian’s chest before trailing slow, lingering, open-mouthed kisses down his belly. He palmed at Sebastian’s groin, delighting in the groan that rumbled under his lips; he could feel the eager shape of him swelling through the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
He wanted Sebastian in his mouth. Sebastian had gone down on him a few times now; considering how infrequently cunnilingus must have factored into the man’s sex life before now, he was a wonderfully quick study. It was well past time Jay returned the favour.
Jay looked up at Sebastian from between his thighs, grinning, and inched his waistband down. Sebastian moaned in anticipation, hips arching up off the sofa, begging without words—
And a sharp, deafening bang echoed through the flat.
Sebastian swore, every muscle in his body tensing as he jolted upright. He pulled Jay in close and rolled them both off the sofa; Jay wheezed a loud grunt as he landed on his back, Sebastian braced protectively over him. Sebastian was breathing fast, eyes wide—nearly as shocked as Jay to find himself on the floor, reflex having overridden all conscious thought.
Then, with a look of realisation, Sebastian sat up and snatched his phone off the coffee table. He squinted at the screen and let out a little sigh, some of the tension in his shoulders and back ebbing away.
He’d checked the date. He didn’t know what day it was.
“Oh my god,” Jay said, “you forgot.”
Sebastian groaned and rubbed his eyes.
Jay covered his mouth to stifle a hysterical laugh. “You forgot the thing you’re never supposed to forget.”
Another bang echoed down the street; Sebastian flinched again, but not as badly as before. “Wait,” he said, peering down at Jay, “you knew?”
Jay stared up at him in disbelief. “What did you think I invited myself over for?”
“Sex,” Sebastian said—which, in hindsight, was a fair assumption.
There was another burst of fireworks—smaller ones this time, but clustered together in a way that, Jay gathered after a moment, sounded an awful lot like gunfire. Sebastian tensed up over Jay, closing his eyes with a harsh, frustrated sigh.
Jay couldn’t help wondering if it was possible for Sebastian to maintain an erection under these conditions. Then another firework went off, and he concluded that was an experiment best left for another time.
“Right,” he said, wriggling out from under Sebastian so he could sit up and dig his own phone out of his pocket. “I’m ordering food—all I’ve had today is some noodles and two energy drinks. You want anything?”
Sebastian relaxed a little—relieved, maybe, that Jay was staying. “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair with a huff of laughter, then met Jay’s eyes with a soft smile. “Thanks.”
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