Rated: NC17
Pairing J/SB
Disclaimer: I don't own them, just in case snyone wasn't aware of 
that fact.
I call it Inspired just because that was why I wrote it. It's not 
really a story as much as a fleeting moment in my mind that happened 
to come along at a convenient time for once; I was at the computer 
and had nothing to do that couldn't be put off. 


Inspired by Olivia Monteith

Jay's rapid fire mind was derailing on so 
many trains of thought even he couldn't quite keep up with all of 
them. His heart was pounding so hard he knew that it could be heard 
out in the street, and for once, he couldn't talk. He wanted to, but 
when he opened his mouth, the words couldn't come out, just gasps and 
whimpers. What the fuck was up with that? Oh, there was a traffic jam 
in his brain, he could almost see it; words typed out in different 
styles and sizes, all jammed up and mixing together in a huge mess 
right there at the back of his throat. Only one short word seemed to 
be able to squeeze through, over and over again, and occasionally 
bringing a friend or to with it.

"Bob," he whispered against the dark hair that fell over his face.

Bob, of course was silent, as good as his name. Or at least he wasn't 
talking. His breathing was pretty hard and loud. The way Bob's breath 
felt, hot and close where his mouth was pressed against the joining 
of Jay's neck and shoulder made the smaller man shudder. Jay was 
already a mass of nerve ending, frayed and heightened so that he was 
sure he could make out every whisker on Bob's face from the feel of 
it against his skin alone. Every breath, every touch of Bob's hands 
on his bare chest, or hovering at the bottom of his belly, at the 
open fly of his shorts, almost but not quite touching his cock caused 
Jay to shiver violently, erratically and constantly.

This was better than any drug. This fear, uncertainty, this doubt� He 
rarely felt so alive. And the big motherfucker was a master at 
dealing it, too. He gave Jay just enough that he wanted more, that he 
asked for more, even though some part of him was screaming at 
him, `What the fucking hell are you doing?! This is a fucking guy! 
That ain't keys in his pocket stabbing at you!' He had heard that 
voice long ago for a brief time when he smoked his first joint. But 
then, like now, his thrill of adventure, and his need won out. He had 
believed since then that he was addicted long before he experienced 
his first high. And it seemed he had been addicted to this since long 
before Lunchbox had laid that first sweet, hungry kiss on him.

And like a good dealer, Bob made him pay before he would give him 
more. He made him offer up something hard won and something he valued 
in exchange for the next touch, the next move forward, the next 
score. The fat fucker's hand still hadn't moved further down. It just 
teased at the waistband of Jay's boxers, fingers trailing along the 
valley at the top of his hips and pubic bone, making Jay's stomach 
twitch and sending a shock through him with every pass. Jay was 
learning the pattern, had known it really since long before he could 
walk. The more you want something, the more it cost. You had to 
decide what you wanted, needed more and if it's worth what you have 
to give up in exchange. In this case, he would have to surrender a 
little of his hard won pride, to take another few bricks from the 
wall he built around himself to keep others out and himself in. And 
he would have to sweeten the deal with some of his inhibitions that 
had been a part of him for so long that he felt a sting as each one 
was stripped away. But what Bob offered in return was a soothing 
salve that made him glad he had stripped them away.

Hard to believe, all of it. That Jay had inhibitions, that he kept 
himself behind a wall, but he was only human. It was there, we all do 
it. We present a mask to the world, something that's not quite real, 
a shell that helps us to survive. Bob shrouded himself in silence, 
used a defense of camouflage, blending in and making you not quite 
sure that what you saw was actually there. Jay built a fortress where 
he hurled out weapons of words from the battlements because he wasn't 
as brave as Bob, not cool enough to simply stand under scrutiny and 
confident enough in his ability to slip by undetected. 

It was hard to believe that he was lying here, whimpering and 
whispering, half naked under his room mate, that he was sweating and 
panting like he was being chased, and he didn't even really want to 
run. Hard to believe that his hand was slowly rising to squeeze Bob's 
shoulder, still covered in his undershirt, and not push him away. 
Instead, he found himself pulling bob closer, and shocked at the 
tiny, helpless, pleading moan that slipped from his throat. He knew 
that sound came from him, because it echoed throughout his body, he 
felt it reverberating from the very soles of his feet.

`There, you fat bitch. Is that enough? No? How much more will I have 
to give to get your hand on my dick?' he thought. `And can I give it 
to you? Why can't you just do it? Why are you making me do this? 
Making me responsible?'

He was frustrated as hell when Bob stubbornly refused to take his 
cock. He had instead, laid his palm flat and firm against Jay's 
sweaty stomach and slid it over to his hip. His thumb brushed 
repeatedly over that sensitive spot between belly and bone over and 
over, making Jay shudder, and finally buck his hips upward as his 
head fell back and his voice keened out roughly, "Booooooobbbb!" 

Bob pulled back slightly, quirked an eyebrow, and a ghost of a smile 
pulled at his lips. `Yes? You wanted something?'

`Fuck! Give the fat motherfucker what he wants!' Jay heard in the 
back of his mind.

His hand was clumsy with uncontrollable trembling as he pulled Bob's 
hand back to the waistband of his boxers, hesitated a moment, before 
he shoved it down under the elastic at the same time that he thrust 
his hips up to meet it.

He immediately melted into a quivering mass of ecstasy, his eyes 
sliding shut, his neck arching, his hands twitching, and moaning in 
what almost sounded like pain. He still hadn't come, but damn, Bob's 
hand felt good, all callused and hot on him.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Bob leaning over him, the look 
in the big guy's eye making him feel like a mouse being played with 
by a cat, and desert at a Weight Watcher's meeting. A wave of cold 
fear and hot excitement washed over him at once, leaving him feeling 
impossibly more sensitive to everything.

Bob pushed up on his knees to kneel above Jay, and hooked his 
fingers in the waistband of Jay's shorts and underwear, dragging them 
down, past his hips, over his thighs, and finally completely off of 
him completely.

Jay felt helpless, delicious, afraid, and eager all at once. He 
swallowed hard and his head fell back against the couch, giving 
himself up. He trailed his fingers over his stomach in the same 
tingling, tickling manner that Bob had moments ago. It made him 
shiver again, but lacked something vital that he could only seem to 
get from Bob's touch.

He looked back at Bob to see the larger man was removing the last of 
his own clothes, and Jay's excitement and fear ratcheted up a few 
more notches. What did Lunchbox have in mind? Could he handle it? Did 
he want it?

Bob leaned down and pressed his lips against Jay's as he fumbled on 
the floor for his trench. By the time he ended the kiss and leaned 
back a few inches to look into Jay's face, he had found what he was 
looking for in the many pockets of his coat. He set one item on the 
table and leaned away before tearing open a small foil package.

`Quick, Dumbass! Sat something!'

"Uh... . Lunchbox?"

Bob paused and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Jay swallowed dryly again, and stammered, "N-nothing, man. Nothing."

`What?!' something in his mind screamed. `He's gonna fuck you!'

And a mellow, smooth voice he almost didn't recognize as his own 
answered back, `Yeah, maybe.'

He offered a wobbly smile, hoping it communicated what he wanted to 
Bob, and ignored the nagging voice that shouted, `You don't even know 
what you fucking want!'

Bob finished rolling on the condom and reached for the table as he 
lowered himself carefully over Jay once more. For the first time, Jay 
looked to see what Bob had over there. Lotion. Of course. Jay had 
ragged on him about that pansy ass hand lotion, berated him for being 
such a pussy that he couldn't take a little chafing on his hands in 
winter. He was glad now that Bob carried it.

He watched as Bob thumbed the cap off with one hand, and squeezed a 
generous amount onto the fingers of the other hand. He then swirled 
his thumb in it, smearing it over his fingertips and warming it at 
the same time.

Bob looked intently into Jay's eyes as he shifted again and slowly 
reached down between the slim thighs, leaving a damp trail of lotion 
where his fingers brushed over Jay's groin and thigh. He paused 
there, waiting. 

Jay's stomach fluttered wildly, and his shaking grew till he thought 
he would fly apart. He could no longer think in words or any patterns 
that made sense, even to himself, but something in his brain still 
worked. His fingers curled into tight fists on the cushions of the 
couch as he shifted his body, allowing his legs to separate, allowing 
Bob in. Allowing Bob's body to come to rest between his legs, his 
hand in to caress Jay's balls and cock leaving them wet with lotion, 
feeling chilled and burning when he moved his hand away. More lotion 
was squeezed out into Bob's hand before he finally ran a finger 
slowly, and carefully over the crease behind Jay's sac. 

The nagging voice in Jay's mind was fading fast in the distant while 
the small, terrified voice was growing stronger and chanting a 
mantra. `He's gonna fuck me, he's gonna fuck my ass. Oh please, fuck 
me. Fuck, me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme....'

As he felt Bob's finger finally push inside of him, he shattered in a 
soft cry as his body gave an involuntary jerk. Suddenly, Bob was 
right there, dark hair forming a curtain around their faces only 
inches apart. Bob's lips moved to form a softly whispered word.

"Stop?"

Jay panted so hard his body seemed to be curling around each 
exhalation, forcing the air out of his lungs with each whistling 
breath. His mouth and throat were too dry to speak at first, and when 
he swallowed and tried a second time with more success, the answer 
sounded like a rusty hinge.

"No. Don't stop. Just... just go slow, okay?"

Bob looked contemplatively at him a few second before softly nodding 
his head once. He kissed Jay lightly on his eye lids, forehead, 
temples and hair as he slowly stretched him, gradually and 
painstakingly. 

Jay closed his eyes and wrapped his arms over Bob's back, holding on 
so tightly that his muscles burned and he wondered vaguely if he 
would leave bruises.

As if from far away he heard his voice 
chanting, "FuckmefuckmefuckmeBob. Fuck me," and was only mildly 
shocked that he was actually speaking in a soft, constant murmur. It 
seemed that the traffic jam was over and his mouth was working right 
again. 

Finally, Bob heeded his pleas and hooked his fingers behind each of 
Jay's knees, pulling them up and finally draping them over his 
shoulders.

Jay's unruly mind spared a thought at how silly it must look, but 
right now, in this moment, he had no pride or vanity. He didn't care 
about anything but what was about to happen. He felt another thrill 
of invigorating terror rise up from the pit of his stomach just 
before Bob's cock began to slowly sink into him, and then he was 
lost. He felt like he was caught on a storm swept sea of panic, lust, 
pain and pleasure in a row boat, and he was loving the ride. He 
reached out blindly for something to hold onto, and his hands found 
Bob's shoulders. His fingers ached from the grip as he pulled at his 
friend, trying to bring him in, bring him closer, draw him in to 
gather comfort and warmth that he knew he could only get from Bob.

With each carefully measured thrust of Bob's hips, a new blossom of 
pain exploded inside of Jay, reaching up into his stomach, flooding 
his body, and turning magically into toe curling, mind bending 
pleasure unlike anything he had ever put into his body before. 
Nothing, no drug in the world, no act, no thrill compared to this. He 
needed more.

And for once, Bob gave him more, without first demanding a high 
price. Bob's hand curled around his cock, his callused thumb stroking 
over the head, and Jay was gone. He was no longer known to himself. 
The man writhing and screaming hoarsely with tears streaming over his 
cheeks was no one he had ever seen before, but he thought he might 
like to get to know better.

Bob came seconds later, releasing his grip on Jay's legs and falling 
forward, keening softly and quietly into Jay's tangled sweaty hair. 

At last, Jay's overtaxed body began to relax into a boneless state he 
had seldom known in his life. His arms fell away from Bob's back as 
his breathing gradually grew slower and deeper. 

"Thanks, Lunchbox. I needed that."